I am a pretty sound sleeper, considering I have three kids. I fell asleep last night fully dressed, which rarely happens. So when I woke up at 4:30, I was really uncomfortable because my cords were twisted at the knees. (Yes, I wear corduroy, they're my favorite pants! So?!) I had just gotten up to pee, brush teeth, and turn the coffee pot on, and I snuggled right back into bed, only to hear little footsteps. Normally, that sound makes me think OH NOOOOO because usually someone has thrown up, or had a nightmare, or wet the bed. None of those are cool! But then I heard Bucket's little voice...."Mommy? I can't sleep."
Duhhhh, to me. I forgot to give Bucket his Risperdal last night, cuz I fell asleep early. And so the poor thing has been up all night, and we are quickly approaching 5am. I opened up the blanket for him to slide in bed next to me, and we snuggled. As we snuggled, I thanked God, in my head, for giving me this amazing little boy. What the world would think of a mistake, my little man with autism, I give praises for him. I love him so much that my eyes are tearing as I sit here typing this. I did eventually get up and get his Risperdal with a cup of water, and now that its 6:39am, he finally fell asleep. Which means that I have this entire weekend to fix his sleep pattern, and so I will probably be one exhausted Mama come Monday.
Anyway, we were lying there in bed, just me and the Bucket. He reminds me so much of his father, the way he snakes his arms around my waist and pulls in for a snuggle. Just like his father, his fingers twirl through my hair. He snuggled his face into my shoulder blade and he sighed. It was a sigh of contentment, yes I know my boy so well that I can tell a frustrated sigh from a sigh of relief. This one was him relaxing in the moment, letting his body fall into slumber, secure in the arms of his mother, who loves him.
As I held my boy, I ran my fingers through his hair, noting that he desperately needs a hair cut again. His hair is a mix of me and his father. My dark hair color, with Mr. R's texture. Genetics is an amazing thing. I traced my finger down his cute nose that thankfully he did not get from me, and tried to count the freckles sprayed across his little cheeks, but it was too dark in my room. I smiled at his long, lanky limbs, again just like his father who is all legs and arms and knees and elbows. His eyelashes are outrageously long, and pure black, and they fluttered slightly as he drifted off to dreamland. I thought of people who decide they only want two children, which was me more than ten years ago. I had my girl (Missy) and my boy (Tiger) and I assumed I was done having children at the ripe old age of 22. I thank my God for surprising me on Thanksgiving 1997 with a positive pregnancy test, surpassing my two forms of birth control, plus breastfeeding Tiger at the time. I was devastated at the time, but now I only rejoice at the plans my Father had for me. For us. For Bucket.
I know how blessed I am.
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