Late Night Blog Reading and Blessing Counting

I found something special last night while conducting my rounds of “favorite blog reading”.

On the Mommy Writes blog, I discovered a link to a very well written and moving essay that Mommy Writes wrote and had published over at Mothering Heights.  The essay is about how quickly the time we have to mother and enjoy our children while they are so small goes by.

I’ve read much on this particular topic before, but nothing quite as well done as this. The essay even brought a tear or two to my eye–a sign of solid writing, if I do say so myself. Link over to the essay and see what I’m talking about firsthand, if you’d like

Eva has started sleeping in her toddler bed at night, but she likes to get up three or four times and come find me before finally settling in for good. Her bedtime is 8 p.m. While I was reading the essay by Mommy Writes, I heard Eva’s door open and shut again, then little feet making their way down the hall. It was 10:00 p.m.

I turned on the light and found Eva sitting on the floor of the hallway, smiling up at me. She was dressed in her green-and-purple flowered blanket sleeper, headbands still on top of her pretty blonde head—three at once, the way she likes to wear them.  Instead of chasing her back to her bed with another warning, I picked Eva up and hugged her extra tightly as I carried her back to her room. She rested her head on my shoulder and we sat together quietly on her bed for a little while.

As I held Eva and gave her kisses, I reflected on the essay I’d just read.  I thought of my 2-year old angel and the way she loves for me to paint her nails bright pink, yet how she can also point to and say “tractor” whenever she sees one. How she says “Love you, nigh-nigh,” at bedtime, and the way she silently hands me one diaper for Vincent each morning.

I thought of Vincent, asleep in the next room, on antibiotics for an ear infection and using an infant mask and inhaler for his breathing because he caught the nightmarish virus I had, but it hit him even harder. I thought of the way he still greets me and everyone else with his signature bright smile and twinkly eyes in spite of his feeling so terrible.

Eva was asleep in seconds. I tucked her back in her little bed and felt like the luckiest mother in the world.

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