This morning, my sweet, precious, adorable baby woke up at 6am. I've got to say, at 6am, he was a lot less sweet, precious, and adorable. Especially on a FRIDAY. Friday is my "sleep in" day-- my alarm goes off at 6:30, when Gabe's does, and I don't actually get out of bed until about 6:45, once Gabe is done showering.
So although it was only "early" by about 45 minutes, it was EARLY because it was my day!
But when life hands you lemons..... so we headed down for breakfast. As Max and Gabe ate, I scurried around putting laundry away and doing all the first of the day things that are easier to do withOUT little hands "helping".... We got Gabe out the door to the bus and then my "good" idea hit me. I got Max dressed for the day and we played a bit until the first signs of "fussy"-- since he woke up an hour and a half early, he was ready for his morning nap early, too.
As soon as I saw the first eye rub/ fussy combo, I scooped him up and we went into his room. I gave him his snuggle and his passy and positioned him on my lap just right, as we sat in the rocking chair-- and then I began singing. You see, my idea was to sit and rock and sing praises to Jesus until Max fell asleep. What could be better than worshiping Jesus with this sweet baby? Max was really into it... at first. He stroked my face and cuddled up and just listened as we sang.
I was on my 5th song when the wiggling started... next came the flailing... but I kept on singing... I just had to "overcome" him... he'd give in and relax again for sure if I just kept going.... then came the screeching paired with the flinging himself backwards. I tried to act like this wrestling match wasn't effecting me... with hair in my face and my knuckles turning white, I kept on smiling and singing and gazing at my "precious" boy....
At this point, as my hands started to cramp up, so I decided I was losing this battle. So I put in my last ditch effort- I stood up, cuddled him up in the "newborn" hold and started swaying and shushing... and he went silent. His eyes began to roll back in his head as he rubbed his snuggled on his cheek. It was working!! I was going to win!!
But then, I started to notice that my "newborn" weighed 25lbs instead of 7lbs, and the bounce and shush was making me really out of breath. All of a sudden my back started aching and I started sweating... I looked at the clock and made a mental note: "I'll do this for 5 more minutes, he'll certainly be asleep by then, but if not, I'll just lay him down". It was my goal- I could do this for 5 minutes. I put the muscle spasms out of my mind, closed my eyes and hummed. I was really getting into it, rocking ever so gently and putting my sweet, precious, adorable baby right to sleep.
After many minutes, probably past my goal, I opened my eyes: it had only been ONE minute and my little baby was starting straight at me- not even blinking- not even close to sleeping.
And it was at that moment that I realized I was "beat" by the one year old-- there would be no sweet cuddle with my baby while he sleeps lemonade out of this lemon-- Jesus didn't get near as many praises as I had planned-- and the boy was wide awake. Darn it! So I laid him down, wiped the sweat off my brow, and walked out. Hmmph.
But it's the thought that counts, right????