Laying in my bed, my sleep was disturbed by a muffled cry in the distance. Far, far in the distance. Perhaps, I thought to myself, it would go away if I could only go back to sleep. But it was no use, I was awake, and the 'cry in the distance' was in fact only coming from the room next door. My children beckoned and another day was upon us. Groaning as I lugged my ever-increasing girth from the bed, I went to save my daughter from the melancholy of her room. Diaper changes, morning hugs, more diaper changes, a routine I know well. Selah and Caleb greeted each other in the normal fashion: squealing and laughing and occasionally screaming as the other invades their "personal boundary" of the day. And I yawned as my body defied the action I was forced to impose upon it. Ah yes, another day at the Spooners was now in full bloom...
As I prepared breakfast I tried to distract my son from the 3 minute wait that to him, seemed an eternity. Dancing, singing, and eventually pulling out the morning Flinstone Vitamin from its hiding place. Ah, there we go, a moment of silence as Caleb consumed his morning treat. And as I continue on with the drama of my day, I was interrupted once again by his insistent pull at my leg. "Yes, son" I say for what already seems like the millionth time, my patience beginning to wane. "Mama, dyo haf gut sweeeeep????" My sleep-deprived brain takes a minute to log in the information being thrown at it. Crazily searching for something by which to reference the gibberish that I should, by now, be able to interpret with ease. And all at once, it comes to me. My 2 year old son is asking if I had a good sleep! Wonder of wonders. "Yes Caleb!" I cried as I swooped him into my arms for a snuggle. "Did you have a good sleep too???" "Ya mama" he sweetly replied.
As I continued my morning preparations, my day seemed a little brighter. The monotony a little fresher. I was faced with a glimpse at the man that my little boy will one day become. And I can't help but fall a little bit more in love with this "job" of motherhood to which I have voluntarily been assigned.
No comments:
Post a Comment