At this time of year, it seems like it's the middle of the night practically 70% of the day. I wake up in the morning and it is pitch black out. Five o'clock? Pitch black.
So the other morning part of me cringed when I laid in bed. I was sure it was 3 a.m. when I heard the pitter patter of little feet moving across the bedroom floor. Wordlessly his father pulled Nate into bed and plopped him down in the middle of us. I remained silent and didn't move a muscle. Sometimes playing possum can buy you a few more minutes sleep.
He began to chat with great animation in his garbled baby talk that is slowly growing into big boy conversation. His father grunted responses but I remained silent. After about five minutes, he realized I was in bed too.
K: Good morning, Nathan. Go back to sleep. It's night time.
He flipped over to face his father and said "MOMMY."
Derek: That's right. Mom's in bed with us. Go back to sleep.
Nathan: (sighing happily) Mommy.
With that he began to awkwardly pat my back.
Nathan: 'ove you.
Kristen: I love you too, Nae.
Nathan: 'ove you.
Kristen: I love you too, Buddy.
I flashed to the moment Lindsay from Graco told the world on Twitter that her two-year-old had told her that she loved her (unsolicited) for the first time. I remembered not being able to remember when Ethan had done that and feeling a little sad. Now here I was in bed in the middle of the night (it was actually 6:28 a.m.) and I was having this incredibly sweet moment that I would remember forever because there were no other distractions from life to draw me away.
Moments later his brother joined us in bed and it just got crazy as they started a tickle war. As tired as I was, I laid there for just a few minutes more, basking in the delight that is my life. These funny, spirited, wonderful kids and their amazing father: it's what I am most thankful for this year.