Last night a bit after two in the morning the house went from quiet to filled with noise from an upset babe. I shot awake and quickly figured out it wasn’t Lola just a few feet away from me. I grabbed up the monitor and found Charley standing in her bed screaming out. My heart was racing as it always does when you’re awoken from a deep sleep to the sound of screams. I bolted to her room to comfort her. She asked for a “baba.”
She no longer drinks from her bottle, but asking for one in the middle of the night is her way of telling me she’s hungry. I would have happily made her a bottle and held her as she drank it, but we were completely out of milk. I considered running to the gas station, but Corey was at work so leaving wasn’t an option. I picked her up out of her bed and laid down on the daybed with her like I’ve done a hundred times before, but she wouldn’t settle and started asking for sausage. She was hungry.
So I set her feet on the ground and with her paci and bunny in hand she ran to the fridge and waited for me to open it. Once I did she found her leftovers from the lunch we shared at Chick-fil-A earlier that day. “You want some chicken?” “K!”, she happily replied.
So, I heated it up for a bit in the microwave and we both sat at the dining room table like we were on a date. There was only one small light streaming in from the kitchen and it was highlighting her wild hair sticking up all over the place. The air was running and the vent nearby made her shiver a bit a few times. She was most definitely hungry, shoving food in her mouth with gusto. But, between every bite she talked. She coughed and laughed and said “I funny.” She asked where Dada was and the baby and pointed all over the room and said all the words she knows. She told me her food was hot and yummy and she ate.
And, in that moment I was not distracted by one single thing, not even light. I was reminded of the miracle that she is. I was reminded that just two and half years ago I did not even know of her existence and then there she was. Almost two years old, sitting across from me smiling and eating and being overwhelmingly cute and charming.
She scooted forward, threw her arms in the air and said, “all done, mama.” And, so I picked her up from her chair and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I grabbed her paci and bunny off the table and she rested her head on my shoulder as I carried her back to her room to lay her back down. I stole an extra minute and ran my hand through her hair and begged God to never let me forget this moment.
Because there are a million other moments that don’t cause my heart to swell like that one did, but if I can cling to the ones that do I feel confident I can be the human I wish to be.
And, I have my children to thank for that.