Slumber Party Success

Success!

Woke up this morning about 6:45 to peals of laughter coming from the room next door. No one had fallen out - or gotten out - of their respective beds, and, thanks to Psalm 121, I didn't lose a wink of sleep worrying about my boys.

I am surprisingly sad this morning, though. There's something very "big boy" about having no more cribs in the house and a son who sleeps without rails on his bed. Maybe this unexpected sadness was skewing my perception, but it seemed to me like Jones didn't want to cuckle quite as much during this morning's "Mickey."  And Freddie was speaking in complete sentences when he said, "I want my boo (blue) shirt," not just fragments.

Whether it was real or imagined, I felt very much the never-stopping march of time parading through my house and dragging my babies away with it. 

That's not like me - at least, it hasn't been. I've never been one to think, "don't grow up," because doesn't the alternative to growing up sorta suck?!?

But this morning, as Jones can potty by himself and Freddie can sleep in the bed that'll carry him through the next eight years or so, I feel a little out of sorts, a little less secure in my certainty that they'll always be alright, because I'll always be there to do things for them. Now that they don't NEED me to do as many things for them, how do I know they'll always be alright?

This, I'm telling myself, is where that Psalm 121 tattoo would work quite nicely: 

"He Who watches over them will neither slumber nor sleep."

So I can rest as easy as the boys did last nite. 

But will I?

(Also, Jones's first question to me this morning was, "Can I sleep in Freddie's room tuh-marder (tomorrow)?" He just doesn't get that Freddie's room is now HIS room, too!)