Perfect Moment

A while ago I read a couple happy mothering moment stories from others, and it got me thinking, what is my happy moment, that I will want to take out and hold when my babies are all grown up and gone.

I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, in the alcove, where we had squished in the kids' dresser, the changing table, and all my sewing stuff.  Behind me was the bedroom proper, with my bed and dresser, and through the door in front of me was the alcove where the girls slept, curtained off from the rest of the basement.  We had lots of alcoves in the basement.

I had a sweet baby on my lap, and I was singing a lullaby I made up to her.  Her sister sat on the floor beside me, and I switch the words a little and sang the lullaby for her.

Sweet baby girl, Mommy loves you.

That sweet baby girl on my lap was happy just to be held while I read her sister books, trying to divide my time so that Emily didn't get jealous of this precious bundle.

Sweet baby girl, Mommy loves you.

Their daddy was at work, and it was Saturday night.  While I was pregnant, Dan working late was a trial, so hard to make it through.  I would get in my pj's, and get Emily in hers, and we would go to sleep together.  But with the two girls, I would get them asleep, and then have time to myself while I waited for their dad to come home.  I had a schedule worked out, for nursing and meals and activities for Emily.   We stuck to it fairly well, and bedtimes were easy.  It was a little before bedtime, and I was spending some time with my munchkins, cheering up a crabby 2 year old and loving on a happy baby.

Your my baby forever, and Mommy loves you.

Sweet baby girl, Mommy loves you.

I sang that song again to her, briefly, so quietly, a week later when they closed her coffin.  I sing it at her grave.  And the memory of that night, her last night, is a treasure.