It was on his index finger, white, sticky, and fresh from Liam's nose. The look on his face showed me that he had no idea what to do with it (only because it wasn't his booger), and so I instinctively said nothing, dove into my bag for a wipe, and promptly cleaned him up. And then I tucked that oogly booger in the wipe back into my purse without even a flinch or a cringe -- because that's just what moms do, right?
It's nice to be needed.
|Exhibit A: Booger inside wipe, on church pew, next to Longchamp handbag|
So, yes, it's nice to be needed.
Perhaps that's why, according to my calculations, I haven't slept in on a Saturday morning for exactly 4 years and 4 months.
The blessed routine disappeared when I adopted my golden retriever Macy (because sometimes a dog's just gotta pee).
Liam made it onto the scene before our Macy left, so the overlap (which I am eternally grateful for) made Saturday morning sleep-in's still impossible (for me).
I've been dragging my wagon lately and my birthday is this week, so today it was Established that I would get to sleep in, especially since we already went to mass yesterday and since Michael has off work on Monday.
Thankfully, Liam slept in an hour later (rising at 7 AM instead of yesterday's 6 AM), but because he has a cold, he alternated back and forth in my arms for 2.5 hours between: blankets on, blankets off, nursing, not nursing, awake, and sound asleep.
By 9:30 AM, he was finally ready to start his day, and so I woke Daddy, excited that it was finally now my time to "sleep in" (although technically I already hadn't).
Daddy diligently rose, and I--with a Christmas morning smile on my face--dove back into bed with glee, turning on the sound machine to drown out all the sounds that I knew would surely emanate from our living room.
I thought about barking a few orders to Daddy before I made my escape, but he tends to be slightly grumpy when he's groggy, so I figured, "He's got this. After all, Liam is almost two years old, right?"
I did remind him that Liam needed a diaper change (since it had been more than two hours) and I encouraged him to put a sweatshirt and slippers on our boy, but that was it. The rest I left to pure Daddy Instinct.
|Exhibit B: The sound machine that just didn't work.|
After an hour-and-a-half of squeezing my eyelids tightly closed and trying to sleep, I finally gave up. The racket in the living room was too loud. Liam was wailing now, his little arms and legs flailing around. I looked like a mess when I turned the corner into the living room, but I must tell you that Daddy and Liam did look worse. And both of them looked so relieved to see me.
God bless Michael. He had tried everything possible to keep our boy quiet, removing both his and his son's shoes (he explained to me) so that their stomping feet wouldn't wake me. He apologized for the loud crash from earlier, which was a tall pile of books sliding off the couch.
"It's OK," I began. "I couldn't sleep anyway. I'm starving hungry because I've been up for 4 hours and haven't eaten breakfast."
Breakfast. The B Word. The thing that just made Liam's eyes light up and Daddy's lightbulb turn on.
Oops. He had forgotten about it. Not a breakfast-eater himself, Daddy had hung on the couch and tried to entertain Liam with books and small toys. No wonder our boy had been pacing back and forth, to and from the kitchen. He was hungry!
"You didn't put Liam in the high chair, give him breakfast, and let him watch morning cartoons?" I asked, befuddled.
"I've never done the morning routine!" he exclaimed. And he was right.
After I gave a hearty breakfast to our very hungry boy and myself (at a late 11 AM!), Daddy quickly planned my consolation prize. He took Liam outside onto the lawn for some fun so that I could enjoy 30 minutes to sit and blog in my pajamas...about this.
Ah, it's nice to be needed. :)
And I absolutely LOVE being a mom.