One of the nicest things about motherhood is getting the little ones to sleep. It's a pure delight. I have whiled away many hours over the past three and a half years, just watching my boys slumbering. At night, I'm the one who puts the baby to bed. At times it can be a difficult process and other times it's as easy as clicking my fingers. But they're only babies once and it's brief in the overall scheme of things. So I try to savour the experience as best I can.
Then there are times when I wish someone would put me to sleep. Or just let me sleep. Instead of being woken at 1.30am to be systematically whacked in the face, laughed at, coughed on and pushed to the far edges of the mattress. Particularly on night's like last night, when I could have done with some solid shuteye. Though in the end, as long as sleep eventually comes, I don't mind how we get there.
The times I love the most though, are the afternoon siesta's. They signify down time. Moments to catch my breath. Have a nibble of lunch. Catch up on the basic to the complex and all that falls in between. Most importantly, they provide the opportunity to capture my bubba's dreaming. So quiet, at ease and perfect. If only I could sleep like a baby.