Given the weekend health matters, we’ve had a bit more trouble than usual getting the kid to sleep. And by a bit, I mean the kid can fight.
So we tried it all. We rocked, we shushed, we snuggled, we cried it out. We played until well past our bedtime; we watered the garden; we had a late night guzzle of milk. All to no avail.
But we were TIRED. So tired. All of us.
And somewhere along the way we reached that tipping point where there is just nothing left to give.
Mom needs a break. 15 minutes to sit and read or watch TV or do…nothing. And when that break doesn’t come a few days in a row, mom gets…tired. Weary. Just beat.
So when Sunday night involves a bedtime that stretches on for hours, it’s hard. And there’s nothing left to give.
Until there is.
Until the switch flips, the voice says the boy needs his MOM, not anyone else, his MOM, and the realization hits: there will come a day when the boy does it on his own. When he doesn’t need mom so very much. When snuggles are brushed aside with an I’m not a baby, I can do it myself.
These days are numbered. What that number is, I know not. But I know that it is finite.
And that needing Mom means he needs ONE person in this entire world. And I am that one – which is humbling, so very humbling.
And it is also just the realization that this mom needed in order to find more, to give more, to love more.