My other favorite time of day is the early evening, when the kids are winding down and getting cranky, ready to be soothed. I lift Little Bear into my arms (or, more often, ask WhyDaddy or WhyGrammy to pick him up for me and rest him in my arms), walk upstairs, and put little footie pajamas on him. I turn off the lights, settle into the rocking chair with his head in the crook of my left arm, and sing him to sleep. After a few verses of one of his favorite songs, he closes his eyes gently and falls asleep. Then I carefully, so carefully, place him in his crib and wait to see if he’ll stay down.
Just like every other mother.
Which is the beauty of this time together. For just a few minutes each morning, afternoon, and evening, as I put my baby to sleep, I can forget about our troubles and just concentrate on my baby’s sweet face. On the long eyelashes dancing on his soft cheeks. On his big blue eyes that search mine, as his hand falls across my face. For a moment he is all mine, and I am all his.
Jealously, I protect this time of ours together. Whether I’ve been at chemo, in bed recovering, or out at the oncologist’s, this time of all times is mine, and I insist on putting Little Bear to sleep.
Bedtime is my favorite time of day.