This is Avery (~2.5 months) on the changing table, looking cheerful and rested this morning, as if he has no idea of the occurrences that happened just hours ago. Those blue eyes and lovable smirk make it easy to forget any frustration I once had, but as I rocked …and rocked …and rocked him last night trying ever so carefully to get him to sleep, I thought, am I really just rocking myself to sleep here?
I mean, the sounds of the ocean are playing on his sound machine, the lights are dimmed and I’m rocking him back and forth in the glider, but he’s looking wide-eyed and giggly and I’m about to fall off the chair and start dreaming about the beaches of Tahiti and what a Rum Runner tasted like again. I wondered how this could all be so exciting to him. So I asked Avery, “You want a midnight dance party eh? Okay, let’s do it.” I got up off the chair and started dancing around the room, bouncing him to the sounds of me singing Technotronic’s “Move This” lyrics. Sure I was a little delirious, but what do you expect at 3:00 a.m.?
I looked down after no more than a minute and behold, a sleeping baby. Go figure. As I left the room and closed the door slowly while the sounds of waves still swooshed, I wondered what he could be dreaming of. But just as I lay my head on my pillow, that thought entered and left my mind, the baby monitor began to scream. It was 3 hours later. Time for the next feeding.