When my son was an infant, I nursed him to sleep every night. Most nights I held him and rocked him as he succumbed to sweet, milk drunk sleep. I read one advice article after another claiming that nursing/rocking your baby to sleep would only spoil them, but to me there was just no other way( and let me just say that if you managed to "crib train", I think you are a magical unicorn.) Every mom and babe have their groove, and that was ours.
But then a thing happened. He got older. He nursed less.
And then one night, he bypassed my open arms and just laid down next to me as he drifted off to sleep. My heart knew that it was all a part of him growing up just like he should, but any mom will tell you that she can remember when her baby stopped asking to be held, or rocked, or comforted.
It stinking hurts. Puts a lump right in your throat. As parenthood will do, many, many times.
So tonight, when he sleepily declared "You rock me", my heart skipped a beat. And I sat right up.
As he nestled down into my arms, I wondered if he would really let me hold him long enough to fall asleep. My boy is on the move 24/7 and does not enjoy being held these days.
Or so I thought.
He asked that I cover his feet with his Olaf blanket because he hates when they stick out. And then thanked me for it.
I normally sing to him, and he usually has a request, but tonight surprised me with my favorite to sing to him, and he asked for "Hey Jude".
And so, I rocked that boy. And I sang 2 rounds of "Hey Jude".
Then, he was snoring softly in my arms.
And then it struck me how wrong I was. As it turns out, he does want to be held. We have really been struggling lately with what every one hails as "The Terrible Twos". And you know what? Sometimes it really is terrible. But, not all the time.
Most of the time, as he is screaming at me for limiting his screen time, and refusing him yet another popsicle/sucker/gummy snacks/(insert any sugary item here), as he is telling me NO! for the eleventy-oneth time that day, I am doing my best(and mostly failing) to reach my mind palace so that I can remember the other boy I live with.
The one who picks his nose as he falls asleep, and loves to sing "Jesus Loves Me", and dances All. The. Time. My boy who can count to 10, and is one of the most polite and caring human beings I have ever met.
And as I was sitting here in my bed, looking down at his eyelashes that are to die for, it hit me just how exhausting it has to be to be a 2 year old. And while no one wants their child to be disobedient or unruly, sometimes it helps to try and look past it all. And see that baby that use to live for the warmth of your arms. And to remember that sometimes, they just need to be held.
