Saturday, March 28, 2009


Every night I check on my kids before they go to sleep. It's my nightime ritual of making sure everything is okay. I cover up any bare feet with a blanket, make sure the room temperature is just right, and look at them. My daughter is always in the same position: stuffed animal under her tummy, head turned to the side, breathing softly. I love to rest my hand on her back to feel her breathing. My son is in perpetual motion, even in sleep--lying on his side, one leg crossed over the other, ready to spring up, arms outstretched catching an imaginary ball.

Seeing them like this, in this precious state of sleep, it doesn't matter that today the carpet was peed on, the cat got squished, toys were broken. All that matters is that soft little belly peeking out under a pajama shirt, a wisp of hair curling around an earlobe, faces in repose, breath sweet from fruit flavored baby toothpaste and the jello that is your heart.

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