Skip to main content

Late Night Wake Ups

Most of my friends have their babies on well-regulated nighttime sleep schedules.  Felicity on the other hand has yet to attain that accomplishment. Mostly, because of the ease of slipping her into bed with me for a nighttime snack as opposed to listening to her very opinionated and long-winded protest that getting out of her crib is really the best plan, is just easier with a one-bedroom house.

And there is something sweet about it. Something sweet in knowing that when she wakes up in the night, I can comfort her. All to soon, she will not need her nighttime snacks. The little face, which nuzzles down next to me won’t need literal nourishment from me any longer. All ready she is three times the size of the little, bitty girl that I met eight months ago. Combing back her hair and cuddling with her is precious. 

These late night wake-ups make me reflect on a couple of different things within the light of day. First, the picture of a mamma feeding a baby makes me think how parents in one sense always need to feed their children. Their kids don’t just need physical food, but they need emotional and spiritual nutrients as well. It impresses upon me the seriousness and the grace from God that we need in order to feed our children. Secondly, a line from a Tennyson poem keeps going through my head. “No language but a cry.” Though the context of the poem doesn’t make the application I am currently making, the line reminds me that for a baby, crying is her language. I want to answer her cries. Yet that desire is contrasted with another desire. As she gets older and gains more language, as I have seen with many an almost two year-old, the cries become tantrums railing against the rules set by mamas everywhere. How does one answer the real cries while training and directing the other cries? Mothers everywhere need wisdom.

Am I indulging her cries in these late night wake ups? Maybe. Is it ok to bring her to bed? Yes, for now. 


God, grant us and parents everywhere the wisdom and the strength to parent our children well. Feed us, so that we can feed them.    

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Slaying Giants

Days like this begin when the night before I choose not to sleep, because I must read a few more lines from some news site or scroll one last time through the glowing screen of my iPhone instead of making good on my resolve to read quality literature and journal prior to bed. They continue when I wake up earlier than usual to teach, but finish teaching to realize that my children also went to bed later then they should. So now, everyone’s patience operates like feet hitting a wet spot on a wood floor. Bam. You loose traction. And first one then another is upset and done. That tantrum sparked another melt-down from someone else, and as I try to not join the melt-downs, and instead attempt to be the adult I hazard some words of explanation.  “Your choices impact us all.” I tell one of them.  My children’s choice do change the tenor of the room for good or for ill, but so do my choices. On days of this sort, where nothing is really wrong, other than a strong case of the grumpies...

Two Little Girls and a Bench

  It was one of those moments before dinner in which I could have easily moved into the busy rush of dinner, clean-up, and bed-time, when I was stopped in my tracks. Isabelle, with her round face, and bright eyes, and fifteen month strength, clamored onto a bench and made it apparent to me that she wanted to jump from its one foot height with the help of my hand. I obliged and a game began, a game that was immediately joined by Emmaline, her three-year old sister, who does everything with full abandon. Soon, I found myself holding two little hands as two little girls jumped off a bench in unison. What joy this moment held for them. Again. Repeat. They would have jumped as long as I allowed. Each little face starlit with the joy of leaving the earth for one brief moment in the company of one’s sister and one’s mommy.  Tonight I read in Chesterton’s Orthodoxy that, “Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want t...

Hit the Ground Crawling

So admittedly it's been awhile since a mommy adventure has been documented via typing. The lack of stories mostly coincides with the end of maternity leave, but now the time has come to hit the ground of writing with some crawling. At least Felicity seems to thinks it’s time to crawl. Only she’s finding that her body doesn’t want to cooperate yet. I noticed she wanted to crawl when she started making flips onto her tummy to signal the end of naptime. Then, during playtime, she’d flop onto her large middle and stretch her little fingers grabbing at the toy that rolled just out of reach.  Toes push the ground, but her belly keeps her beached. And the most she’s managed is to scoot backwards or to rotate using her belly as an axis. But the crawling is coming soon.   She wants it badly. The little toes are starting to realize they need to push at the ground and determination to move forward fills her face with each passing day. At the moment, crawling is a Mueller fam...