Tonight your father and I planned on going to a Christmas party and taking you along with us. It was supposed to be a baby-friendly party, which are few and far between, so we were ecstatic to be taking you with us. But you, sweet baby, have a way of changing the best laid plans.
Today was such an exciting day for you that you couldn't nap at all, and then, just as I predicted, you crashed into a deep sleep at 6 p.m. Your father and I debated whether we should wake you up to drive you across town to attend a loud party where you definitely wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, and we decided that it was more important that one of us stayed home with you tonight.
Sometimes, when you're a parent, the thing you want to do is not the thing your baby needs.
So, even though I planned on wearing my cute new sweater and standing around chatting it up with a glass of wine tonight, I found myself in jeans and a plaid shirt, holding you in my lap, and reading Moo, Baa, La La La! And you know what? I loved it. I loved your sticky little hands grabbing for the pages, and the sound of your paci being smacked between your drooling lips, and the fact that I have a few more memories of this short, sweet season we have together. This season where you are my baby and I am your mama. It will only last a little while, after all. Everybody knows that babies grow up and mamas grow older. And someday you might not be my only baby to rock to sleep.
But tonight you are. And I would gladly give up one hundred Christmas parties for you.
P.S. Did I mention that you tinkled all over me, yourself, a stack of clean diapers (sigh), and your changing table tonight? Because you did.