And. It. Happened.
Sweet Emmy Lou woke an hour early, full of spunk and energy. (Sunday being the one day a week that I let myself sleep in a bit and don't worry about getting up and moving before she gets up.) I dragged my no longer joyful body out of bed and shuffled my freezing feet down the hall to oblige my baby's demands of "Mama, up, up, up."
We ended up running lots of errands that afternoon so in addition to waking up early, Emmy's only nap was had in her carseat driving from Point A to Point B. Since I was doing the driving, it meant no nap for me. I shouldn't have been surprised then, when my now over-tired angel woke up at 1:00 am that very night and was having an awful time getting back to sleep. Realizing that this predicament wiped going back to sleep completely off of my list of options I threw the covers off of my doubly unhappy body and once again shuffled my freezing feet down to Emmy's room, longing for sleep and hoping that some good ol' fashioned begging and pleading would remedy the situation. (It didn't, and neither did rocking, reading, or singing.)
It is easy to feel sorry for myself on that short middle of the night walk from my bed to Emmy's room to soothe her back to sleep. But as soon as I open her door and lay my eyes on her precious face, my self-pity evaporates and is replaced by something amazing...GRATITUDE.
Those of you who know sweet Emmy Lou, know that she moves non-stop from sun-up to sun-down, leaving any hopes I have for cuddling shattered in her dust. But during these periodic late night snuggles, we sit in the rocking chair together where she curls up on my lap and snuggles into my chest for some love from mommy. And I forget that it is 2:00 or 3:00 or 4:00 am and think about how lucky I am that I get to snuggle with this.
I mean, seriously, how lucky am I? I always end up weighing the option of sleeping the rest of the night in that creaky rocking chair with her in my arms but don't so that we can all get some quality shut-eye. I gingerly lay Emmy back into her bed and sneak back to my room. But this time the walk down the hall has a very different sense of longing. Not for sleep this time but to always be able to hold that sweet baby in my arms and know that she finds comfort there.