In Meg's nursery hangs a framed cross-stitched poem that my grandmother made. She gave it to my mom when I was a baby, and it hung in my nursery as a reminder. My mom handed it down to me, and I put it behind the rocker as a reminder to myself. It reads:
Scrubbing and cleaning can wait 'til tomorrow
for babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
This week I've been quietly lamenting the fact that Meg isn't quite as snuggly as she used to be. She can take things in now, so when I hold her, she wants to stand up and look around. She's never still. Everyone told me it happens too quickly, to snuggle while I could, but I certainly didn't expect it to be as soon as three months.
Meg's never liked the feeling of being sleepy. Now that we're mostly past the colic, when she cries it's for two reasons... well, three: she's hungry, she's bored, or she's tired. Usually, when she gets fussy, I wrap her up and put her down. She'll cry for a few minutes and then fall asleep. The past few days, however, she's been doing a screaming, angry cry when she's tired. And there's no "crying it out". Leaving her in the bed just makes her even more angry. So, I'm starting to figure out that the best thing to do is swaddle her, hold her very close, and bounce/rock her until she calms down or falls asleep.
It may seem a little like she's regressing with her naptimes. But this afternoon after she fell asleep in my arms, I thought about the chores and cleaning I needed to do, the vacuuming, the dusting... Then, silently thanking the Lord for this blessing, I gave myself another 15 minutes before I put her down - to snuggle the warm little body, caress the silky hair, kiss the tiny brow, and memorize that sweet, peaceful face. I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
