Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Night-Night Report

There's the baby boy, fast asleep. He was so tired that he barely made it through supper and a bath and as soon as I got him into his pajamas, he was COOKED! Done. He probably fussed more heartbreakingly than I've ever heard him fuss. For about three minutes. Then we settled down to watch Aladdin and before I knew it, he'd crawled under the cover and was gone. I held his little hand and kissed it for a long time before I let it relax to his side. I can never kiss that child enough.

Owen and I read The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza together. He does the voices of the dog, the duck, and the cat. The cat, who is a very cool cat, gets an almost-whispered hip voice from Owen and he always finishes whatever the cat's dialogue is by saying, "Yeah!" with a little jazz hand thing to accompany it.
We love that book.
When I told him good night I said, "I love you, boy. You are my precious little prince."
He said, "I love you Mer. You are my precious little queen."

After I had gathered myself up off the floor where I had melted, I tucked him in and hopefully, he too is asleep.

We have big plans for tomorrow, starting of course with pancakes and bacon. Mr. Moon is going to stay home for at least that part of the day and with a lot of luck, maybe he'll just take the day off. Owen wants to go fishing and if I know his Boppa, he does too.

So. Time for Old Mer to get in bed. I hope the boys sleep all through the night and I hope that I don't have any more of those wacko dreams. But I'll tell you this- even if my anti-depressant does give me these dreams AND gives me the hives, they're worth it because I can live my sweet life without the constant panic and fear and dreams are just dreams and hives are just itchy and my life is just damn good.


  1. Heart, melt! That Owen is something else. Goodnight Mer :)

  2. I could just say, Aw...
    Or I could say, it's lovely to witness all the conscious loving and care that goes on at your house.
    Sweet dreams.

  3. What A said. The tenderness of those boys is not happenstance. It is lovingly nurtured and modeled for them every moment. Gosh they are sweet.

  4. I could sit and watch little ones sleep for hours.

    Thank god for Zoloft. Thank god.

  5. You are so lucky to have such a great relationship with those boys. (And they're lucky too, needless to say.) Funny how often Owen wants to read that particular book!

  6. There's nuthin' better than grandbabies. When our oldest, who'll turn 18 soon (what???) was three I got her "Goodnight Elmo." I read it to her every time she was here, then to her brothers and cousins (six in all). The youngest is ten, but every time any or all of them are here, I have to read it to them. They seem a little embarrassed at first when they ask, then they tell me how good I am at doing Hoots the Owl. Hoots has one sentence but the kids still get all giggly when I get to that page. I do my 'jazz voice,' too and say "Hoots plays his saxophone for Elmo and says, 'goodnight goodnight, hoody hoo. I'll keep things cool till morning for you.' Yeah, I've got it memorized, too. Such precious memories those kids have given me!

  7. Oh, those grandbabies! Can it be possible to love them as much as we do? It's as if your children gave you this wonderful gift. When my oldest granddaughter, (I have 3) who is nearly 5, tells me: "I love you Nana, to the moon & back"...I, too, just melt! We are some lucky ladies, Ms. Moon. For sure!

  8. Be still, my heart. The love. The love. Thank you for sharing it.

  9. I have had some weird dreams lately. But I too know that they are just dreams. A lot of childhood stuff seems to resurface at times in dreams. Oh well...


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