Goodnight Sweetheart

I found a treasure waiting for me tonight after my Target run. Ssshh. Yes, Target. Currently my favorite store. For about six years now. Could you even THINK of living without that joint? I think not.








After swimming home in the floods of 5-2-07 tonight, I heard the smallest voice peep through the monitor, "Daddy, I NEEEED my Mommy." Apparently Daddy didn't hear this cry and usually I would proceed to find Daddy and push him to take care of the bed time battles, but this little voice was just the saddest and yet sweetest I've heard since, oh, say, oh, forever. So, I tip-toed into G's room to find him sitting at the edge of his bed.








"Mommy, you came back from Taw-get stuh! You always come back. Daddy and I had paw-ty pop-cuhn and Back-aw-di-gans. And I got a biiiiig wain on my head. I went in the wain. Then I pushed, pushed, pushed it off my head. Like this. It was a biiiig wain, Mommy. I pushed, pushed, pushed it off my head like this. I think I have it in my teeth, Mommy. I need it out."





(To clarify, he and Kenny had a popcorn party and watched the best little kid's flick broadcast ever to distract from the rain that he apparently wanted to play in. Normally, we go for it. Lightning tonight. No cigar. And the thing in his teeth. Not the rain. Popcorn.)








So, while I normally re-tuck him in, give him a quick kiss and wish him sweet dreams, tonight I felt compelled to just sit and listen. Never mind it was 8:55 p.m. and I was exhausted and wanted to climb into my own bed. I listened and he talked and talked and talked. Then I rubbed his back and forehead and hair. And started to remember.








I began to remember those nights that I either just couldn't fall asleep or just didn't want to as a kid. Those were the nights my dad would come in my room without a hint of frustration and patiently and calmly rub my back until I fell asleep. I craved those nights. I loved those nights. Dad never seemed to mind. Or did he? Didn't show it. Does Dad remember those nights now? How does he remember them? Fondly? With frustration?




How will I remember these nights once my little bird has left the nest? I dare not even say with frustration. I hope fondly. But for now, why is it that I get so busy with the mundane evening routine that causes me to mind? These nights are treasures. One of these days Garrett won't want me to rub his back or listen to his stories or rub his hair. Why only allow myself a handful of nights to love on this most precious gift from Above longer than "normal" only "because it isn't good for him to fall asleep with your aid"?




Who cares?





What on earth could he find wrong with more tenderness and time with Mommy?

Will he ever look back and think, gee, I wish she hadn't have always been there to rub my back?



I hope and think not.






So, for tonight, I listened to my heart and sat watching and lifting up a prayer of thanksgiving for the miracle that Garrett is to me and to so many others.










I hope your bedtimes are filled with such moments as these. Maybe not tonight or any night in the near future. But one day. I waited for these moments all of my life. I craved them. Now they are here. I dare not let them slip by.