You'll Hear The Secrets That I Keep, When I'm Watching You In Your Sleep

Hi Kid,

Hey it's your mom, though I guess identifying myself isn't really necessary considering this is my blog. Anyway, it's me and I have a confession to make: I watch you while you sleep.

OK. That sounded way creepier than I meant it to be but for the record it's not really that creepy at all. And while I'm sure that's what all the stalkers say, trust me that in this particular case it's true. Truth is I've been doing this since the day you were born.

In the beginning the reason was two-fold. On your first day post-womb you slept like a lamb. It was wonderful and magical and obviously drug-related but you really did lull me into a sense of 'I can do this thang.' But on your second day post-womb you decided enough was enough and that sleep was for chumps. You screamed for hours on end, so much so that the nurses came and took you away in order to give your rattled parents a break. I thought you were broken and that I had done something to cause this so instead of following the sage advice of 'sleep when your baby sleeps', I watched you like one might watch a ticking time-bomb strapped to their breast; one never knew when it was going to go off. This nagging fear of 'the end of sleep is nigh' was the main reason I watched because Murphy's Law dictated that the moment I allowed myself to sleep, you would wake screaming.

And for the record: any time I tested that theory, you woke up screaming. Coincidence? Who knows.

The other reason was rooted in something much deeper, engrained, and somewhat sinister, a type of which I never share in this space because this is an arena where I want only the silliness and smiles to exist. But the truth is I felt I didn't deserve you and while I suspect post-partum depression had much ado with that something, I still to this very day sometimes feel that wash over me. Albeit these days it's a tiny lapping ripple as opposed to a tsunami. But back when you were poppin' fresh from my loins, I watched you to make sure you were still there, that no one was going to come claim you, and that you were still perfect in the way that only you can be perfect. And for the record that would be you just being you. Trust me: you = perfect.

Anyway.

Before you scream the pretty much accurate accusation of 'Mom, you're a freak', I know for a fact that your dad watches you sleep too and I once caught you Nana and Poppy doing it, so please, please spread the accusations of weirdness around if you find this news alarming. I have no idea why they do it. Maybe they are freaks too.

But the truth is you are just so completely amazing that I cannot believe that I had a hand in creating you and those moments of peaceful slumber are just perfect for drinking you in. It's much easier to watch you in that sleeping state because it's the only time that you aren't operating at a level that is akin to a crackhead hummingbird on meth who just got the latest fix from the trailer park. Full truth: watching you when you are awake can cause whiplash but it is a lash I gladly endure.

So please, please my child, don't think this is all really weird because one day I really hope that you might understand why I do these strange things. Parenthood -- despite my bitching and moaning sometimes indicating the contrary -- is frankly amazing (to say the least) and I hope you experience it (but not too soon please).

Also please don't freak out if you wake up to find me standing over your bed. I am not the boogie man but just your freak mom who still can't believe you are here, and so perfect, and for at least a third of the day, completely still.

love,
mom

P.S. I'm a freak.