He just needed to be rocked. Held. Loved.
I picked him up, rocked him a bit, and then sat down at my computer to check for emails regarding our Nutcracker Ballet (which, for all you interested readers, is THIS Saturday). I'd rock, and then stop -- scroll down with the mouse -- and then resume rocking. I followed this pattern for several minutes.
What was wrong with me?
Could I not rock him without needing to multi-task?
Luckily, those are the thoughts that slammed into my face as I read about silent auction signs. I stood up, clicked the button to turn the monitor off, and walked downstairs to our family room. Then, slowly, I began to rock Samuel in my rocking chair. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He fought me -- remember he'd been the super crabby baby -- but I kept rocking. A lullaby that I sang when he was first born came back to me, and finally as I sung those words his weary head fell onto my chest.
I would have missed this moment.
I rocked Samuel for 15minutes. That's it. It didn't change my work. My house didn't get messier. But Samuel? He had me. Undivided.
That was exactly what he needed.
I'm so grateful for the clarity that I had at 6:56 pm last night. Clarity to remember that family trumps everything. Maybe my Nutcracker sign isn't as perfect as I'd want it. Or my floor spotless. That is perfectly fine with me.
I had Samuel.
It was me and him.
No strings attached.
--that's my baby Samuel with little Elijah on the day of Samuel's birth --
that's also the first day Samuel ever heard the lullaby that lulled him to sleep.
