When I was a little girl I got Tums for my leg pains. Mum figured it was the best thing: part placebo, part calcium for my growing bones. I am not a milk drinker so the calcium probably did me a lot of good in those chalky tablets. (We had powdered milk when I was young. I believe anyone who has had to chew their milk will not grow up to love milk. Period.) Paul said that when he was a child they got pain medicine for their growing pains. Like most other things, we’re doing this Paul’s way.
Last night Little Red awoke right as I was about to go to sleep. Paul got him some ibuprofen and brought him into our room for a prayer. Then, while we waited for the medication to kick in we laid this giant, ever-growing boy between us. I recalled memories of cosleeping with a tiny, redheaded baby. How did he get so big?
I told him about when he was a baby. About napping together. About him kicking my scar no matter where I placed him.
I told him about getting up in the middle of the night to feed him. About how it felt like Christmas, every time. About looking into those darker-than night eyes in the middle of the night and feeling giddy. About still feeling so blessed to be his mother.
I told him about how he’d stick his feet straight up into the air, even if he was sound asleep, everytime we put him in bed. About “tenting” him with his blanket because his feet stuck straight up until we left the room. About going back into our own room and playing “pop quiz: who am I?” and doing the same thing.
I told him that five years later we still pray every night to be good parents for him. That every night we tell each other how amazing/cool/fun/smart/curious/adventurous/funny/clever/cute he (and his brother) is. That we just can’t believe these amazing people are part of our family. That every night we lie in bed and talk about how much we love our boys.
We talked long into a comfortable forever. It was probably only ten or fifteen minutes but it was a soft eternity in which we had all turned off the clock to enjoy the moment. He felt better, and though none of us begrudged being awake, it was time to go to sleep. He was a bit hyper after this all-about-him trip down memory lane, so I made it a game.
On your mark . . .
Get set . . .
(I did. And Paul took him back to bed shortly after.)