9:15 on a Sunday night and John comes in our bedroom. I'm on my belly watching tv while Joey is drifting off to sleep in the Pack N Play next to the bed. "Asleep?" I ask, but I see the answer -- a negative -- following close on his Daddy's heels. "He's afraid of the thunder and wants Mommy to help him go to sleep." I sigh and follow my son into his bedroom. There is no thunder. But there is a Mommy to help him go to sleep.
9:18 I sit in the rocking chair and start to sing. I don't sing traditional lullabies: partly because I don't know the words to any lullabies and partly because it would bore me. So I sing Barenaked Ladies, Billy Joel, and Paul Simon. I watch the triangle of light from the ajar bedroom door waver on the ceiling as I rock back and forth. I watch the shadow of the oscillating fan move back and forth. I sing, "People say I'm crazy; I've got diamonds on the soles of my shoes," as a million thoughts race through my head: first among them that it's time I start this blog. Two songs and he's out and I silently slip out through his door.
9:30 I go back to the bedroom where Joey is all but out. I watch a few minutes of tv with John. Then I feel a small hand on my calf. "You were not in your chair." "Oh buddy," I say, "I thought you were asleep!" "You were not in your chair," he repeats, this sentence summarizing my role in his life quite neatly. I'm expected to be in a certain place in order to keep his world turning at the right speed and tilt. I was not where I was supposed to be, and even in his sleep he knew this. I try to get him to climb up and fall asleep on our bed, but he is distracted by the tv.
9:38 I follow him back and sing five more songs. Then I sit silently for five more minutes... just to be sure. I slip out once again and this time sleep sticks. Joey is still awake, but barely. We know that he will drift off on his own, so John and I go downstairs.
10:15 We've been trying to watch Burn Notice for about twenty minutes when Joey begins crying. And after a few minutes, it's evident that this is needy crying as opposed to overtired fussing. So I go back upstairs to nurse him back to sleep.
11:02 I go downstairs. "It's 11:00 and all of my children are sleeping," I say to John. He smiles. But it's too late now to watch Burn Notice. We watch Jeopardy! and go to bed.
9:18 I sit in the rocking chair and start to sing. I don't sing traditional lullabies: partly because I don't know the words to any lullabies and partly because it would bore me. So I sing Barenaked Ladies, Billy Joel, and Paul Simon. I watch the triangle of light from the ajar bedroom door waver on the ceiling as I rock back and forth. I watch the shadow of the oscillating fan move back and forth. I sing, "People say I'm crazy; I've got diamonds on the soles of my shoes," as a million thoughts race through my head: first among them that it's time I start this blog. Two songs and he's out and I silently slip out through his door.
9:30 I go back to the bedroom where Joey is all but out. I watch a few minutes of tv with John. Then I feel a small hand on my calf. "You were not in your chair." "Oh buddy," I say, "I thought you were asleep!" "You were not in your chair," he repeats, this sentence summarizing my role in his life quite neatly. I'm expected to be in a certain place in order to keep his world turning at the right speed and tilt. I was not where I was supposed to be, and even in his sleep he knew this. I try to get him to climb up and fall asleep on our bed, but he is distracted by the tv.
9:38 I follow him back and sing five more songs. Then I sit silently for five more minutes... just to be sure. I slip out once again and this time sleep sticks. Joey is still awake, but barely. We know that he will drift off on his own, so John and I go downstairs.
10:15 We've been trying to watch Burn Notice for about twenty minutes when Joey begins crying. And after a few minutes, it's evident that this is needy crying as opposed to overtired fussing. So I go back upstairs to nurse him back to sleep.
11:02 I go downstairs. "It's 11:00 and all of my children are sleeping," I say to John. He smiles. But it's too late now to watch Burn Notice. We watch Jeopardy! and go to bed.
