Time Flies

Lo and behold, I am one of those clingy mothers. Well, not totally, but I am experiencing a tiny bit of grief today because we're moving the Munchkin into her own room tonight.

Thus far, she's been sleeping in a bassinet next to our bed. We had decided to keep her with us for four months because my exhaustive prenatal research on SIDS said that 1) babies who sleep in the same room as their parents are less likely to suffer froms SIDS, as long as they are in their own beds, and 2) the risk of SIDS drops significantly after four months.

But she was an incredibly noisy sleeper when she was born; she sounded like a small jungle's worth of animals snorting, wheezing, barking, growling, squealing. This cacophony has driven Sam to the guest room many nights, and he is understandably eager to return to his own bed for good. I'll be happy to have him back of course, but I find a small part of myself nonetheless mourning the loss of my tiny roommate.

I love the light in our room at her bedtime, and how the leaves create patterns on the blinds.

I love peeking at her before climbing into bed, sometimes turning the lights on very low to watch her sweet breathing: hard on the exhale with an occasional little sigh of contentment. I've even been known to find her little dumpling palm so irresistible that I've risked touching it just to watch the tiny fingers move in response.

I love waking up in the morning to her small sounds, and peering over the bassinet to say, "Good morning, Miss Munchkinson!" (Yes, I know, I know. We've already established that I can't help myself.) She responds as if she's amazed and delighted that against all odds, I've survived the night to return to her bassinet and rescue her from immobility. Who else in the world is so happy to see me that their arms and legs flail with uncontrollable joy?