A couple of weeks ago, I was brushing my teeth before bed when I heard the door close on our baby's bedroom. I thought that was odd as she had been asleep for a couple of hours. I rounded the corner to see who in the world dared go in her bedroom at night and risk waking her up, only to find my husband was the culprit!
"What are you doing?" I spat. I thought surely he was smart enough by this time to know that it was near insanity to take such a huge risk, knowing how important it was to me that the baby not be disturbed once she was down for the night. I can handle most anything during the day, but by evening, I am exhausted and therefore more than thankful there is such a thing as bedtime. I am not a mother who drags out bedtime rituals or has long routines for snuggling my children in. I pray with them, hug and kiss them, express my love to them, hug and kiss them once more (okay, so I also often read to them as well, but not for lengthy periods of time), then say "goodnight" and leave, not expecting to hear from or see them until morning. Period. This practice has been the only thing (and nap time, that is) that has kept me sane during the past 13 years of motherhood. So, what was my husband possibly thinking?
"I was holding Berkley for a few minutes," he responded casually.
"What????" My eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? How often do you do this?"
I was stunned! I seriously couldn't believe it. Where had I been the past 18 months? Oh, right. In bed. That's where I go once my kids are down for the night. After all, I'm tired. I thought about being mad but I found it way too endearing to be anything but heart struck. It was just a few nights later that I snuck in to snap a quick photo.
After all, I think it's a memory Berkley will always want to have. There's just nothing like genuine Daddy love.