|This picture was not taken the morning I wrote this letter. But you probably already figured that out.|
It's too early to be awake, and the first thoughts I'm having with my eyes still closed are "Please, please let him go back to sleep" followed closely by "Please, please don't let him throw up from coughing... again." Yesterday I was able to prolong a too-short nap by bringing you into bed with me, where you slept cuddled up against me for another two hours. But this morning that plan doesn't work. You are awake, and you want to talk.
You were such an early talker, and now you know so many words. Words that you want to use all the time. You narrate everything you're doing, prefacing each statement with your own pronunciation of your name: Ducas. As you wiggle happily in bed with me, you keep up a running commentary. "Ducas Mama sleeping!" (Even though we clearly aren't. Heads on the pillow is enough for you.) "Sleeping 'gether! Pillow! Blanket!" After you get tired of being still, you move all around the bed, cautioning yourself with "Careful, Ducas! Careful, Ducas!" every time you get too close to the edge.
You say "hungry-gy?" And when I tell you, no, it's not time to eat, it's time to sleep, you respond with, "Yep! Why?" (I'm pretty sure you don't actually know what why means yet, but it doesn't stop you from repeating the phrase "what? why?" on a regular basis.) You decide that the only way you can be comfortable is if your arms are around my neck and your entire torso is on my face, and when you pull on the headboard and then declare it to be "heavy," I am too muffled for you to hear me shush you.
And around 4:45 when I've finally given up on getting any more sleep before the alarm goes off at 5:20, it occurs to me that the older ladies who say "enjoy every moment" (in a tone that indicates that they've definitely forgotten what it feels like to be vomited on) might be on to something. Because - although you will hopefully not always wake me up at ridiculous hours - you will also outgrow the desire to be held in my arms for hours on end. And right now, before the sun or any well-rested human is awake, I can hold you as close as I want for as long as I want. Right now, I am your favorite person who ever lived. And when I remember that this is fleeting, I can enjoy it in spite of the lack of sleep.
I love you, "Ducas." I'm so glad I'm your mommy. But I think I should warn you that between how much you talk and how much I talk, there's a good chance that we might drive your daddy crazy.
Feel free to click here out of sympathy for my lack of sleep.