I am compelled to take pictures of my babies while they sleep.
My soft, snuggly one year old, who sleeps, as he does everything else, with total abandon. Who does not stop until he curls up on his tummy at the end of the day, arms and legs tucked up under him, and sighs heavily as you scratch his back. And then his mouth hangs open, his eyes roll back in his head, and his heavy lids close. And as I lay next to him, I want to remember.
And my tall, quirky four year old. She still naps during the day and desperately needs it. She also needs to fall asleep surrounded by 15 stuffed animals, a pile of books, and 1-3 shining lights. But she’s just as snuggly and often times, deep in the night, she cheerfully pads down the hall, pillow and blanket in hand. And then what do you say? Because for the same reason I take pictures of them sleeping, I let them search us out in the night. I want to remember.
No matter how far away it seems now, I know that one day they won’t want to share our bed, won’t want me to snuggle “just one more minute,” and eventually, won’t even fall asleep in my house. During the day, they live fast and hard and I get caught up in all the day to day mom things. Before I know it, night has fallen and their breathing is once again soft and steady. So I pause, and take a picture.