I am hiding in my bedroom right now. I dare not make a peep, for you are finally settling down in your own room nearby. You tested me well today, little one.
I am hiding now. Shhhh, don't tell. Close your eyes and drift to sleep.
I am hiding from the sticky dishes that await in the sink downstairs
...from the scattered crumbs under the table
...from an unfinished project sitting in limbo on my hibernating PC
...from my cell phone that sits downstairs
I am also hiding, in a way, from your Daddy and sister outside. I could go out and play, but I just want to hide. Savoring silence. I am hanging on to the only free moment I have managed to grasp today.
It is quiet in here now that you have assumed your sleeping position: face to the side, little rear end up in the air, one arm clutching a favorite blanket, your body smooshed into the corner of the crib. Yesterday was a big day of playtime and today was a first attempt at consolidating to one nap. You worked me hard today, baby boy, but Mommy understands. You are tired. I am too.
Any moment now, the door will open downstairs and sister and Daddy will enter. I will move from my quiet spot in my room to help them with whatever they may need. I will swiftly switch on the Mommy mode. I will sweep up the grass they trail in from the yard and clank tonight's dishes into the dishwasher. I will select Amelia's green clothes for St. Patrick's day and urge her along as she completes her usual bedtime routine with inevitable stalling. We will prepare for another busy day to arrive when the sun rises again.
I have a few fleeting moments left to hide from whatever, whomever it is that calls for me. So I pause. And I breathe. I watch your little bottom on the video monitor. I feel stillness and listen to silence.
It is good that a mother can recharge quickly, because it's time to assume the role again. The other pieces of my heart have come back indoors. I have mere seconds until I hear, "Mom! Where are you?"
So of course, I reply. "Yes, I'm coming!"