Stolen Moments

Running before the sun rises should give me time to shower and start my day before the kids wake up.  Like any change in routine, it's going to take a little while to work out the kinks, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

On Tuesday morning, I crept back into the house, looking forward to a few moments of alone time before climbing the stairs to our bathroom.  Before I even sat down, I heard Dylan start crying and quickly retrieved him from his crib before he had the opportunity to wake Abbey. 

I grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and snuggled him close on the couch.

We dozed together for a while, neither of us minding (too much) my gym sweat.  Holding him tight, I realized  how close he is to leaving babyhood behind.  He's so heavy on my chest now; the soft hair curling slightly against his neck is that of a little boy and not the peach fuzz of his infancy that I can still feel against my cheek.

With all of our sleep issues, I should have soothed him and eased him back into his warm bed. 

Still, the memory of his small fist buried in my hair, his breath warm and even on my neck, is enough to make me so grateful I borrowed those minutes from the chaos of our day.  If he follows in Abbey's footsteps, he'll soon be a squirming, kicking, bed hog, and I'll have no choice but to place him gently back into the nest of his crib when he cries out in the early morning.

send this little guy good thoughts today

his surgery is this morning

(ok, so I took a picture of a sleeping baby

with a flash

he stayed asleep, the sweet boy)