La Veilleuse (Nightlight)

He is so still and quiet sometimes, his little round monk’s head covered in soft brown hair. I love watching him sleep next to me, our breathing in synch, his long eyelashes gently moving as he dreams. You see, I have gained a small boy as a bed mate. We have a system. Mummy (A) cannot sleep with him in the room from a mixture of being a light sleeper, waking to every little grumble and gurgle, and from her anxiety about whether he is alive and breathing. I seem to be able to conk out most of the time to the sounds of rain or the ocean from his “sleep sheep”, though of course I check him regularly throughout the night. I also trust in my inner Maman radar, and surely I would know that something was wrong since our auras mingle from our proximity (right?!). 

Anyway, all this to say my beloved and I sleep in separate rooms, again. I bring Ben in to her for their nighttime milking. It’s a flawed plan, but I’m discovering the whole parenting thing is one big flawed plan. There will always be holes in it, things we could have done differently, that we’ve forgotten. Our family doctor told us to “go with your gut” which is pretty cool from a doc. And that most things are “normal”. I am someone who likes to be in control however, and I seek perfection in many things (especially in myself, though I’m working on that). I am committed not to hold A nor Ben to my insane standards either, an ongoing practice. What a crazy ride! It’s one I chose eyes wide open of course, and I have signed up 100% (okay maybe 92%) for the amazing growing experience it will be and already is. I also hope to chill out about things that used to make me nuts. But we’ve only just begun and already I cringe as he profusely spits up on the specially chosen outfit for today, watch anxiously as our friends’ toddler manhandles everything in sight with his banana covered hands, and am irritated that I’m not secretly an amazing healer since our baby still has a yeasty butt rash after a week. Thank goddess I still have my yoga room, and Ben and I have our precious nights together. And these daytime moments of Maman-baby time where A is out shopping and little Ben is attached to my front in his wrap (ergonomic it is not sadly, or my back just needs to adjust to a quickly growing boy, who has already gained a pound!).

Here we two are, listening to Coeur de Pirate and alternately slow dancing or twirling around to her super sweet voice. As the world’s struggles fall away, I remember again that he is mine, that we are each others’ and that I am his nightlight now and forever.

E