savoring

we have spent the majority of this summer living life, but not documenting it.

i was ok with that...

but i know that i've already forgotten so much and i wish i had posted more.

in the moment, you think you'll never forget.

in a week, once you've slept at least 3 hours consecutively per night

and then greeted the sun by way of early greetings from your own son,

memories fade so fast, 

and life catches you up in her quick little dance.

it gets hard to catch your breath.

we fought jaxon for months.

every night, every nap time.

he wouldn't stay in bed.

for hours we would go back and forth.

finally we discovered the underlying issue-

he hates to be alone.

now, we usually let him fall asleep on the floor (his preference),

in the hall or just inside the living room.

we carry him to his bed as we turn in for the night,

but not before i lay down next to him and kiss him all over 

until my heart is content.

it's the only time he's that still, 

and no matter what he says, 

he's still my baby.

this afternoon, he was fighting again.

he wouldn't lay still, so i made him go to his own bed.

he cried, "sleep with me, please!"

as i'm walking to the door, i tell him i can't...

and then a little voice inside stops me and says, "why not?"

so i curl up next to him in his toddler bed.

he instantly calms, 

and i put my hand on his little chest while i watch it rise and fall, 

slowly into a rhythm.

i'm taken back, not so very long ago, 

when he was tiny enough that i could curl up around him.

he was never content unless we were tummy to tummy, skin to skin.

my mind began to race--

"lord, this is going too fast. i'll keep the tantrums. i'll keep the diapers. 

i'm not ready for this to pass by me. i'm not ready for "real" problems.

my kids *want* to be with me now. what am i going to do when they don't?

my baby is almost one. i don't plan on having more...saying that makes me ache, 

but i don't think i'll ever be 'ok' with my babies growing up. it wouldn't matter if i had 15..."

on and on it went until i realized that i was getting too far ahead of myself.

slow down. 

they're still so small. 

his grace is (and will be) sufficient.

that promise swept peace over me and i let go of my fears.

 little by little, i inched my way out of that creaky little bed,

stopping every few movements when his little eyes would flutter open.

when i was finally out of his room, i came here.

i needed to document this.

i need to remember these moments.