Sleeping Beauty

Well, here I am stuck at work, missing my three boys. Linc went back to the doctor this morning to check on his ears after last week's tube surgery. He got a great report, which is excellent, but it doesn't explain why he's been so miserable this week.

It has been so bad that last night, the unspeakable happened... Lincoln stayed up later than Nico.

I took Nico up to bed while Linc rolled around on the floor downstairs and babbled at the top of his lungs. I came downstairs fully prepared to be furious with him for refusing to sleep and keeping his brother up, but I stopped when I found him happily playing with a pair of Nico's Scooby Doo underwear. Let's face it, the guilt of having to pry a pair of not-fresh-out-of-the-washer underwear out of your little one's hand pretty much wipes out any justification for frustration.

So, instead, I sat down on the carpet by him and watched him relax in stages, growing increasingly still until he finally gave in and closed his eyes. Even in sleep, his hand was stretched out to me, like he was making one final grope for comfort and reassurance. When I picked him up, he had carpet indentations in his little cheek, and he leaned in hard against me.

I am trying to remember to appreciate these moments because already when I look at Nico I can hardly see the beautiful baby he was just two years ago. I don't mean that he isn't beautiful now, just that he doesn't look like the baby I remember, the round, sweet thing that would just melt into my chest and wrap himself up in my arms to nap on the couch. I know that as soon as I blink, I will be saying the same about Lincoln, and I want to hold on as long as I can. I want to memorize the sight of him drifting off to sleep beside me on the carpet, to implant these sweet images in my brain in the hopes that they can ward off the impervious march of time. I know it won't keep him from growing up really, but maybe it will create a sanctuary in my mind where I can always come back and see him the way he is now.