Peace

There is a drool spot at my knee. For the past couple of months, in fact, drool spots have appeared at my knees and my belly, my shoulder and my arms. No, I have not developed an alarming medical condition. What I have done is move my child out of his crib and into a toddler bed. And opportunistic little thing that he is, he's taken this to mean that instead of lying in his bed and being patted to sleep, he should be lying ON TOP OF ME to some degree or another.

Before I had this child, I wanted the kind of baby who would fall asleep at 7:30 every night in his bed by himself and stay asleep until 8 the next morning. Can I just say how glad I am that I didn't get that baby?

I love that he falls asleep on top of me. I love that I can think back to when he was small enough to fit in the crook of one arm. I love comparing that to how big he is now, sprawling over my entire torso with his head on my shoulders and his feet on the ground while I sit on a beanbag chair and read a book. I love that I can sniff his sweet, baby hair while he chatters to himself and then quiets, sighs, and drifts off into sleep. I love that I have at least an hour built into my day when I can sit and read and be quiet and still and not feel guilty that I'm neglecting the laundry or the vacuuming. And regardless of how anxious or agitated or impatient I might be going into this falling-asleep ritual, at the end of it, I'm relaxed and calm and at peace.

I know I didn't get what I wanted, but as it turns out, I got exactly what I needed.