I'm tired. So tired.
It has everything to do with a certain little boy getting up often to eat or a need to be rocked.
My first flesh reaction is to complain. And boy could I!
And then I thought about how badly I would want to get up with him many times if something were to happen to him, if he was all of the sudden gone. And I realized that I need to cherish those moments. And think about what I love about getting up with him instead of the fact that 2 hours of continuous sleep isn't great.
I love watching him nurse so contentedly like I am the only person that will satisfy him at that moment.
I love when he is done and just laying in my arms so totally asleep.
I love when I pick him up to move him to my shoulder, he startles, and both arms go straight in the air, fists closed, knees pulled up to his chest, kind of like he is about to take off like a super hero.
I love when I lay him on my shoulder and his whole body is limp against mine, just snuggled in so content, so trusting and so totally asleep.
I love watching him after I lay him down in his crib as he finds the most perfect, comfortable way to sleep. His knees pull up under him and his little bum sticks up in the air.
I love kissing his fist.
I love kissing his cheeks.
I love kissing him.
I love him.
Getting up in the night isn't so bad.