5:30 a.m. is not awake time. 5:30 to 6:30 is my final, blissful hour of sleep where I begin to wake up, peer down at my adorable cherub, cuddle him a bit and doze off (frequently while prodding J that it is time for him to get out of bed while praying that the dog does not bark to wake us all up). But this morning, the little man thought that 5:30 was time to get up. He was intent on letting us know that it was time to play, time to explore our faces with his new and developing pincer grasp, and time to talk to his best friend, Mr. Skylight. So, I let him babble, grab, turn and play between J and me. And then at 6:30, he decided it was time to go back to sleep. So I held him on my chest and he and I both drifted back to sleep. During my maternity leave, this was how we began many of our mornings. The Little Man ("LM") would wake up, we would play in bed for an hour or so, and then he and I would take a morning nap.
When J reentered the bedroom at 7:00 to take LM, so that I could shower, I decided to let the LM sleep for a few more minutes. Actually, I wanted to hold him for just a few more minutes, a few more minutes before I began my eratic and harried routine and day. A few more minutes where I could pretend that this was what my day would be, where my only concern would be how LM was sleeping, eating and playing. Where I did not have to worry about not having work, or being staffed on THAT CASE. So I laid in bed for an extra ten minutes, knowing that I would be more harried than usual. When I finally sat up to hand off LM, he blinked at me, not understanding why we couldn't nap a bit longer, why I was taking the warmth away. I warned J that he was about to let out a cry, and cry he did.