Favorite Moments

My favorite moment of each day is putting Jodie down for bed. Her nightlight softly glows in the corner and the room is filled with warmth and the hum of the white noise from her humidifier. She falls asleep drinking her bottle and I'm left holding her chubby, soft, limp body in my arms. I smooth her curls behind her ears and stroke her cheek slick with Aquaphor. There is nothing in the world that can make her eyes open at this point, so I indulge in the richness of her sleep. I hug her close to me and I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. She sleeps, and nothing else matters in this normally spinning mommy's brain. I couldn't be stressed even if I desperately wanted to, for whatever ridiculous reason. If moments had colors, this one is a soft violet-blue.

My favorite moment of each week is weekend mornings. We all rise from our slumbers in our respective rooms, each one of us coming from a different corner of the second floor of our house. A three year old comes bounding into the room with boundless energy, climbing up onto the bed, diving into the white puffy comforter and allowing a rare tender moment of a cuddle and a kiss. Soon we are joined by a six month old whose face widely grins at the sight as her whole body wiggles to and fro with delight. Sleep sacks stay on, sleep sacks come off, it doesn't matter. We are all enveloped by soft white sheets and blankets and share silly morning greetings. Stuffed animal friends come out to entertain Jodie with silly voices and kisses as the less tired parent disappears downstairs to bring up breakfast in bed for all. Eggs are munched, yogurt is spooned into waiting open mouths, iced coffee and iced milk are drunk down in long heady sips. Daniel Tiger tosses a sneaker from one paw to the other, and mommy and daddy vow for the millionth time to get a king sized bed. If moments had colors, this one is a fresh, juicy spring green.