A night in the life

I sat in the glider, one I borrowed from my sister, and watched her play. She just had her nightly bath given by Daddy, and was sitting on the floor wearing a white onesie. She was obviously drowsy as she played in her room, going from one book to the other, sometime tripping over stuffed animals. I can’t believe how much she’s growing. I looked at her wispy hair and wondered again just where in the world she got that from. She smiled at me and pointed at the animals in her picture book.

Next door I heard muffled whining; Ethan was sad that he didn’t get to kiss her goodnight. Not that we didn’t give him the opportunity, because we more than did, but he purposefully didn’t take advantage when he should have. “This is your last chance, Ethan. You’d better kiss her now cause she’s going to bed!” 

He didn’t believe us. He kept playing with her feet and repeating, “Muna, I love you. Muna, Muna!”

In case I haven’t mentioned before, Clementine’s other name is Muna Muhala. It sounds Arabic or Hawaiian, but in all actuality it is a name Ethan made up when she was still in my tummy. He’d come up to me and rub my swollen belly and talk to “Muna Muhala” and tell her how much he loved her. He was crazy about her in a way I’ve never seen before. You always see the images of kids kissing their Mama’s pregnant belly, but with Ethan, it was way more than that. He was beyond thrilled. He could not wait for her arrival, and sometimes I swear I could feel the anticipation dripping out his pores.

So, he didn’t kiss her goodnight. Bobby took her to her room after warning Ethan he would do so, and the boy was devastated. Soon after, the whining began.

Back in her room, I stood my ground. The whining bothered me, and I was tempted to take her in there and be like, okay. kiss her already, be quiet, everythings’s all right! But I didn’t--I really wanted him to understand we were serious, and it was difficult to do, but eventually he fell asleep. 

Then Muna and I began our nightly ritual.

I turned on her lamp and took her into my arms. She sat with me on the glider and immediately reached for my shirt. I nursed her for 10 minutes until she was almost asleep, then I stood up and she clung to me. We hugged each other like we do every night--a big long squeeze, goodnight my love, see you in the morning. I kissed her, said my usual sweet nothings to her, and left the room.

I thought about our 10 minute nursing session, and how that used to be 45 minutes when she was first born. She would fall asleep while nursing and I’d have to do the cheek rub the nurses tell you about to keep her awake so she’d finish her meal. She doesn’t nurse as much as she used to, and I have a feeling it’s coming to an end sometime soon. 

That reality makes me sad.

I went downstairs after a final goodnight to my boys, and sat down at the computer. Bobby was doing some work, and I thought I’d check in with my Facebook peeps. Gosh, I know!

But I thought about her. And how she’s not such a little baby anymore. She’s a toddler now, albeit an extraordinary, out-of-this-world, super sweet, take-my-breath-away-she’s-so-beautiful toddler. She lights up the room and we all want to kiss her all the time. We got lucky with her, her daddy and I, her brothers. For a moment I felt bad for little Ethan. I couldn’t imagine being deprived of kissing goodnight any of my babies. But I know he’ll see her in the morning, and next time, when given the opportunity, he’ll plant that goodnight kiss on her like nobody’s business.

So I left my desk, went to the kitchen, and pulled out our last bottle of champagne. 'Cause life is good. And I felt like celebrating.