I’m sitting here on a Friday night, the last night of my spring break with my youngest son Ethan asleep in my lap. He is transitioning into needing a more structured sleep schedule and going through a sleep process. In retrospect, I should have put him in his crib while he was on the way to sleep, so he can practice falling asleep in his crib. Instead, I let him fall asleep in my arms and, gently let him settle in my lap. A missed opportunity? Yes. Am I going to sweat it right now? No. I’m simply going to enjoy his warmth in his lap, and the almost impossible to detect, but truly incredible feeling of his heart beat as his chest pushes up against my abdomen.
I hear the dishwasher going through its wash cycle, a reminder that chores are done enough for the night. I look over as a basket full of clean clothing feeling satisfied that this afternoon while I watched both of my boys…somehow.
As I look over toward the living room through the legs of the dining room table and chairs, I can see Buffy’s shape in the darkness. Even though I am too far away to hear her breath, I can feel her presence.
I see her little snout covered in dirt and can hear myself chastising her for trying to roll her newly groomed body into patch of dirt. She always leads with her nose and then flops her back onto the ground and joyously kicks her legs out as she rolls. Sometimes she does this when she smells something wonderful in her mind. Other times it’s a sign that she is shedding. I’m not sure what it was today but as her nose dipped into the dirt, and her body began to roll, I yelled at her, and she abruptly stopped. The with royal dignity and grace she trotted over me as if she had done nothing wrong, with dark earth hanging off of her whiskers.
My annoyance with my puppy has long sense passed. Freshly groomed dog means extra cuddles, which means tonight I will cuddle with her as I fall asleep in bed tonight. She will sit near me when I bring her up to the bed. As I get her positioned underneath my arm she will cooperate at first, however once she is settled she will stay there, and relax in my arms. Buffy will only leave later when Diana picks her up and then puts her in her bed in Ethan’s room.
Ethan’s arm just flopped off of his chest and now is hanging off of my lap. I see his fingers, delicate and soft. The skin is perfect and little fingernails seem almost impossibly small. It’s these hands, these wonderful fingers which are the biggest different I’ve noticed between Ethan and Ollie today.
What I brought my face close to Ethan’s face earlier today, he reached out to grab something. I’m not sure if he was going for my lips or my nose. I felt his cold and wet fingers, having just come out of his own mouth, and his little finger nails. He giggled and smiled as he gazed up at me.
Then there’s Ollie’s hands moving carefully with increasing accuracy as I taught him how to play paddy cake. At times, his hands were relaxed and at other times they were tense as they flowed through the pattern. I could see Ollie concentrate on my hands and what was once flailing became a steady pattern.
Diana came downstairs a little while ago, to chat before working out. She touched my hand gently, and told me that she was glad that she married me. Holding Diana’s hand has always been special. I wouldn’t describe holding her hand as electricity, but rather touching something that has inner warmth. Her hands feel like the way that your arms need to be when you hold a baby, strong but gentle, caring and loving.
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