He came to my bed again last night.
Reluctantly, I lifted the blanket and let him in, a little irritated that he was back AGAIN.
It’s the third night this week and he’s nine-years-old for goodness sake.
Then he wrapped his arm across my body and laid his small face on my chest.
And I quickly remembered…. I remembered that very, very soon he will never come to my bed again.
Not just that he will come lay with me less, but that he stop coming to lay with me altogether.
He already needs me far less than he used to. He has already changed so much from my the baby who only wanted mama.
Which is good, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. But my gosh, it happens so fast.
One day he won’t get scared at night. One day he won’t want me laying him. One day he won’t live here.
So I’ve decided I’m going to lay with them until I can’t anymore. I will keep lifting my blanket and keep pulling them into the warm bed next to me until they stop showing up.
Because I know for sure that they will stop showing up.
And I know for sure when that happens I’ll be sad and I will regret not taking every single opportunity to snuggle those little people.
So come on to my bed, little babies. I’ll save you a place as long as you want it.
Liz is a just a mom trying to keep it real about how little she sleeps, how often she gets puked on and how much she loves them. You can find her here every day writing about real-mom moments.