In the Blink of an Eye

Don and I were both exhausted last night so, after he kissed me goodnight in the kitchen, I finished up a few last minute chores and then followed him to bed. Sitting comfortably under the covers was Daelyn. I noticed as I walked through to the bathroom that he was talking non-stop and Don was in his usual wind-down position. Don is not a "talker". For the first five years of our marriage, I never once heard him say my name. When he goes to bed at night, he takes a magazine (usually U.S. News & World Reports, for which he has a subscription - his way of keeping up on the world), lies on his stomach and reads while he flosses his teeth. As newlyweds, this drove me crazy. I'd be just getting comfortable when his floss would slingshot something out of his mouth and hit me in the face. You can't even begin to imagine the one-sided conversations we had about this. But Don is a creature of habit and a dentist once told him that if he flossed every day and brushed twice a day, he could go a year between cleanings instead of 6 months, which began a life-long practice of bedtime flossing. Why he has to do it in bed is any man's guess. Now, I so seldom join him in bed before he's asleep that the flossing doesn't bother me. I suppose I've also gotten more used to it after 10 years of marriage.

Don can take an hour to finish flossing. It's not that the actual flossing takes that long, but this is his wind-down routine. He rests periodically and reads until he's tired. Then he finishes up the flossing, turns off his light, and rolls over. I like to talk at bedtime (no huge surprise to anyone who knows me - I like to talk ALL the time). Once the house is quiet and I'm lying in bed, I have a chance to rethink my day and I always remember several anecdotes I want to share with Don, a list of questions I need to ask him, and, that done, I'll ponder the mysteries of the Universe - outloud - until I'm tired and fall asleep. On the rare occasions that I'm in the bed while Don is flossing, I'll do my talkie-routine which never seems to disturb his reading. He refuses to answer me when I ask him questions, claiming that he can't talk and floss at the same time. Truthfully, he can't talk and breath at the same time. Talking does not come naturally for Don. So, I talk and he reads - all a beautiful dance of love, each doing what is necessary for peace at bedtime, completely oblivious of the other. I must add, however, that there are times when I'm upset and really NEED to talk to Don when he listens attentively and responds appropriately. He doesn't REFUSE to talk, he just reserves talking for essentials.

Daelyn is much like me and very unlike Don. He's always been very verbal and will be talking in his bed long after Don and I are fast asleep. We lie in bed in the dark stillness and listen to him jabbering. Don always snickers. He thinks it's quite comical that Daelyn requires no audience - the entire house is asleep, except Daelyn who chatters non-stop until the final moment of slumber.

So, here's Daelyn, on my side of the bed, chatting up a storm with Daddy, who's characteristically obliviously flossing and reading. I stopped momentarily to observe the dance - different from mine and Don's. I make a statement and pause for it to sink in, hoping for a response. Daelyn doesn't wait for a response, nor is he expecting one. He just talks - about his day, about interesting things he saw, often from weeks previous, about characters in movies like they're his best friends (Jar-Jar Binks - "ex-squeeze me", followed by peels of laughter), questions he has that have usually been answered dozens of times already ... talks, talks, talks.

Once I leave the bathroom and join my guys in bed, Daelyn snuggles close to me. I still wrap my arm around him like I did with all my new babies in the bed, protecting them from Daddy lest he roll over on my newborn and smother them (he never even came close - he was always so sensitized to having a baby in the bed, he even rolled over more carefully sound asleep, yet I still sheltered them against my body until they were old enough to push away from me). My arm naturally goes around him and he very naturally snuggles up against my body. And we begin to talk. Finally, the talker's in the bed. Don hates this. He doesn't mind my talking while he's flossing but, once the light goes out, there's to be silence in the room. On rare occasions, he'll scoot across the bed, wrap his arms around me and chat for a little while. But when he says "Goodnight", it's code for "No more talk!! Go to sleep and leave me alone!" If I say anything after he says goodnight, I'm gently but firmly reminded that he already said goodnight. Imagine his frustration with chatty Mommy and non-stop talker, Daelyn, snuggling in the dark discussing anything on Daelyn's mind well after "Goodnight" has been uttered. On various occasions, he has threatened to throw me and the offending child (sometimes it's Deanna) out of the bed. Realizing that this is near impossible, there have been occasions when he's left the bed and taken up residence on the couch because we were talking too much and he couldn't get to sleep. Out of love for Don, I've attempted to quiet the children in our bed after goodnight so their daddy can sleep in his own bed.

Last night I forewarned Daelyn. Don was still reading when I climbed in so I told Daelyn that we could talk and snuggle until Daddy's light went out but, then, he had to be quiet and go to sleep. We chatted for a few minutes until the darkness descended and we heard "Goodnight" from the other side of the bed. Then Daelyn pressed his head against my chest, wrapped his little arm underneath my chin and up so he could rub my ear, and began to settle down. In a few moments, we were both groggy. I whispered to him that it was time for him to get in his own bed - no verbal response, just adamant shaking of his head - so I snuggled a little longer. I finally realized by his breathing that he was deep in sleep. I lay with my lips against his head remembering so many nights that have gone before this one. This is my last baby, the final fruit of my womb. And he's already three. Soon, he'll no longer appear in our room at bedtime. He'll go the way of his siblings and other little boys everywhere and begin falling asleep in his own bed. Gone will be the days of gentle snuggling and soft conversations in darkness. The sweet smell of baby breath and the squeeky high-pitched voices of my toddlers will only be a memory.

Time marches on. I don't know why it's so hard to march with it. This has been the happiest time in my life, my most precious season. I know that God created me for motherhood and I've never been more content than when suckling a child. Never again will these breasts know the tenderness of an infant, my arms will forever ache to hold life that comes from me and my love.

As I carried Daelyn, sleeping, to his room, I thought how short the seasons in our lives are. A close friend of mine has an 18-mo. old that's going through that clingy stage. He doesn't want Mommy to put him down. Yesterday, in frustration, she asked me how much longer this season would last. Andree, my friend, if you're lucky, it'll last a LONG time. All too soon he'll move on to other interests and Mommy will only be needed to kiss boo-boo's or cook dinner.

Enjoy every season. Make the most of every minute. Because, in the blink of an eye, it'll be gone.