We live by our routines. Some families have fluid bedtimes and love to go with the flow, but not us. We eat, sleep and play at the same time every weekday. There is comfort in a predictable routine. It's comforting for the kids and it gives the grow-ups something to look forward to: quiet time. When we get home from daycare the routine ends up being almost as hurried as the one in the morning. Dinner for L (whatever we can talk him into eating), family play time, baths and then both kids get milk/bottles and fall asleep. L hops off of his dad's lap, blows me a kiss and goes to his crib. For a few minutes I am alone with E.
As I was rocking E to sleep last night, I had one of those rare moments when you know, you just know, that this will be remembered. Perhaps I will be rocking my grandchild to sleep and I will look down, think of that moment, and say to myself, "It seems like just yesterday I was rocking E."
Already, I look back at photos of her as a newborn and feel a knot in my stomach. Perhaps because know she is my last child or maybe because after having one baby, you realize just how quickly they grow up. Whatever the reason, I wish I could somehow record all of it as a feeling. I would be a billionaire if I developed a pill that recreated the feeling you have when you rock your child to sleep. Since I'm not smart enough and far too tired to do that, I'll just try to appreciate L and E as they are every night. I will try to remember their clean little faces and chubby feet. I let thousands of moments pass me by every day. Life is too busy and too exhausting to remember or appreciate them all. I try to take bedtime and make it a designated time for appreciation. I'm not always successful, but when I am, those moments are more precious to me than anything in the world.