The last trip around the sun was filled with many, many hours awake in the darkness. A few nights awake by kids’ sides because of croup, the hour long feedings of a really tiny new baby, changing wet jammies and sheets at two a.m., waking up to a not-so-little boy (who looks so small in his pajamas yet takes up a remarkable amount of space) climbing into our bed with his blanket and asking us to find his beloved Bear, and a few spent staying up too late to talk and binge watch shows with Matt, pretending we could still do that and not be bone tired the following day.
And then there were the hours after those hours when I couldn’t fall back asleep because, like most moms, my mind was making grocery lists, remembering work responsibilities, wishing I didn’t have work responsibilities, wondering what happens if the first day of kindergarten rolls around and your kid doesn’t want to get on the bus, thinking of ways to handle tantrums, feeling bad about how yesterday’s tantrums were handled, thinking of ways to spend more time with my kids, thinking how nice it would be to have time to myself, listening to three people and one cat sleep loudly, and half wanting to wake everyone up because I miss them even though they are right there beside me and they’ll be awake again soon crying, Kate wanting a bottle and Hank not wanting to go to school.
Here we are, in the pre-dawn hours of a new year, and I’m holding a sleeping baby in a pitch black family room so as not to wake the two other inhabitants of my bedroom.
My eyes are tired, but my heart is full.
Let’s do this – another amazing, exhausting, love-filled, tear-filled, hug-filled trip around the sun.