Yesterday morning I got up and went about my usual rounds. Housecoat and slippers, coffee, daily blog roll. I started my morning off by reading a scary account of what had happened in a friends household the evening before. It quite literally brought tears to my eyes. A few things about it scared the crap out of me. First was the fact that something so frightening had happened to people I love, and I could imagine the terror that they must have felt. Second of course was concern that everyone was OK. And then of course thoughts always run to "what if that had happened to me? To us? To Griffin."
Even though I know that everything in the M-O household is back to normal, and everybody is OK, I've been hanging onto my baby boy just a little bit tighter since reading that account. Sometimes in the hairy scary of the day I forget that the little thing tugging on my pant leg for my attention, will some day hardly even glance at me as he hurries out the door to hang out with his friends, or go to a game, or do what ever it is that he ends up finding his passion in. It's all happening so fast, and sometimes I feel like I've forgotten to appreciate this little pant-tugging monster for what he truly is - our little miracle, that I love with all my heart, and can't even begin to imagine my life without.
Tragedies often make people wake up and take a closer look at their lives, and re-evaluate what is important to them, and while this doesn't particularly fall under the 'tragedy' category, it certainly was shocking, and tough to read, never mind live out I'm sure. And all before I had even had a sip of my morning coffee! It certainly has made me think about what I have, and just how lucky we are that we are all happy, healthy, and have a pretty darn good looking roof over our heads.
Lately, we've been making a real effort to get Griffin to fall asleep of his own accord, instead of falling into the temptation of holding him in our arms until he drifts off. He's been a champion, falling asleep on his own every night this week, and sleeping through the night. But tonight I held him and rocked him until he fell sound asleep, and then gently laid him down in his crib. Because there will only be so many more nights that he actually WANTS to be rocked to sleep, and while they're here, I'll appreciate them for everything they are. I never want to take him or his presence in our lives for granted.
I understand that no matter how tight I hold on, just like his little buddies he is going to fall down, get bumps and bruises, scrapes and scratches, and maybe even a broken bone or two. (Two's the max though!) My baby boy is going to grow up and I will let him discover the world on his own terms and on his own time, but I plan to stand behind him or beside him every step of the way, so that no matter how old he gets, and no matter how hard he falls down, he'll always know that his Mama is right there ready to hold him in her arms and rock him to sleep if that's where he wants to be.