Saturday was our anniversary so that night we took turns... getting up with Evan. First, I got up at 1. Then Tam got up at 4. Then I got up at 5 when Evan awoke again, this time finally walking into our room-- dog, bear, and blanket all in hand. That evening he'd pooped out around 7 not feeling well so I had feared it might be a short night. "I'm hungry. I'm really hungry!"
It is so very easy at such times to just say no. At 5AM my charity cup is empty, "my give a damn is busted." Especially so when the night has already been twice interrupted. Slowly, reluctantly, painfully, I got up and volunteered to get him some breakfast. And breakfast I did: Hot cereal on the table within just a few minutes. Within just a few more minutes, however, it became apparent he still wasn't feeling well. One bite, tears and, "my stomach hurts."
For the next three hours we cuddled in a chair along with his trusty Giraffe blanket. As much as I hate having to get up early on a Sunday morning I realize just how lucky I am to have this little guy, perfect in so many ways. Even when he's not feeling well and gets me up at 5AM.
Later that day he was all better, his UNO game back in top form. I know it won't be much longer that I'll get away with holding him on my lap for a bit, let alone an hour or two. So, for now, I'll count my blessings and realize every event is an opportunity--- an opportunity that won't be available forever. For better or for worse.
No comments:
Post a Comment