First of all, I wanted to thank each of my guest bloggers. If you haven't read the last 3 yet, take a quick gander and afford a comment. You'll read from Robin about her letter to her unborn baby about what a great time in history to be born, Lisa's post about raising twins and Hollie's post about the things she's found out while being a new mommy.
Now to my post.
When I come out from out of town, I hate when I come home when the kids are already asleep. I always wake up my girls, all blurry eyed from being woken up from a deep sleep. They usually have no recollection of my saying hi, but ~I~ am the one who remembers, which is what counts. I just want to hug them and kiss them.
But do I wake the baby? If I wake him up, it's a little harder to get him back down, as he'll see me and think it's time to eat or get up. So I tiptoe into his room and just look at him as he sleeps. He is now an official stomach sleeper. He gets his knees under himself so he sleeps with his butt sticking up in the air and his little arms curled underneath his chest.
And that's where it all goes wrong for me.
He sleeps in such a cute position and I can't ~not~ touch him. So I carefully stroke his back and pat his little bum. Within a millisecond, he's moving around and lets out a cry. Then I figure I can totally pick him up now. Which is mistake numbers two. Within minutes, his head is off my shoulder and he's smiling at me, going in for baby kisses.
But it's all SO worth it.
In the 3 days I was gone, he has perfected his crawling. Now it's on both knees 85% of the time. It used to be 85% army crawling, but I guess it just took a weekend to realize he can get around MUCH faster if he doesn't have to drag his body.
Spending some time away from my kids is wonderful. But nothing beats coming back home and seeing them. Nothing.