Good Mornings.January 17, 2013 at 8:48 am | Posted in Mama Bear | 5 Comments
Seriously, go read it. It made me cry.
Lucky isn’t what you’d call a morning person. Whenever we have to wake him up in the mornings, he’s grumpy and tired, and you have to take the right “tone” with him.
Since I’m not a morning person either, I totally get it.
See, my mother WAS a morning person, and when she used to wake us up, I swear her goal was to be AS.ANNOYING.AS.POSSIBLE. She’d come into our rooms, and say in this awful sing-songy tone: Good morning… it’s time to get up for SCH-OOOOOOOL!”
I get that when I wake Lucky up he’s going to be Grouchy Bear. So I keep my tone quiet and respectful, and I kiss him, and when he inevitably yells at me to GO! AWAY! MOMMY! I will generally tell him that I’ll leave if he really wants me to, it’s not a problem, that I hate getting up in the mornings too.
He doesn’t really want me to go. He just wants to go back to sleep.
I don’t remember when I suggested that we sit in his rocking chair until he was awake enough to go downstairs. But it was many months ago – before we put together his cardboard playhouse he loves, when the rocking chair was still a central part of his room.
He and I have spent HOURS in that rocking chair, you see. Maybe even days. It’s where I spent so much time nursing him overnight. It’s where I’ve gave him cuddles when he was so sick that one winter. It’s where we used to read stories every night before bed, before he got his Big Boy bed and wanted us to lay down with him.
And it’s sort of amazing – even now, with how tall he is, he can still fold himself into my lap, his head on my chest. The rocking chair squeaks now, and it’s stuck in the corner of the room next to his closet, behind his playhouse. To get to the chair requires squeezing by his desk, toy chest, AND the playhouse. And since our old house is insulated with (basically) newspaper, sitting in the chair is drafty and not so comfortable.
But. He refuses to let me take it out of his room, to put it away.
And so on Tuesday morning, when he was reluctant to have anything to do with waking up, I asked him if he thought a snuggle in the rocking chair might help a bit. He nodded, gathered up all his stuffed animals, and waited for me to pick him up.
We gingerly made our way to the chair and I smoothed one of his baby blankets over him. And then we rocked, his head on my chest, my arms wrapped around him, our breathing slow, and steady, my heart swollen with love and happiness and contentment and fulfillment.
And then he popped up, and told me, Okay, Mommy. I’m awake now. And we went downstairs and started our day.
But those moments with him on the rocker have stayed with me for two days now.
Snuggling with my son is my favorite part of parenting.
I have the hope that he never outgrows it. But you know – I’m practical enough to realize that at some point, I’m certain he will. Everything, it seems, is fleeting when you’re a parent. The good. The bad. All of it.
All we can do is be in the moment and enjoy it while it lasts.
Now, if you’ll excuse me?
I need to go wake up my son.