Skip to content

The Sound of Sleep

November 21, 2009

Picture1

This morning, I lay in bed dozing (as I always do) listening to the sounds of my house waking up (today it was peaceful, though not always!),

I couldn’t help but think what a precious time of day this is for me. Not only to be able to wake up at my own pace (slowly) while someone else is on kid-duty, but to eavesdrop on it all. I love the sound of the espresso machine — when I hear that I know my light is about to flip on, and a steaming latte is about to appear on my nightstand.

I love the sound of the dishwasher being emptied, because it means I don’t have to do it myself. I love the sound of quiet footsteps in the hall, and the daily interactions and rituals between father and sons.

The precious exchange of words.
The gentle tones.
The whispered “Good morning, Sunshine!” and the responding sigh and yawn, or squeal: “Daddy!”.
The sounds of stretching and hugs.

The soft scuffle as jammies are pulled off and head, arms and legs are stuffed into the day’s attire. Two voices, one chirping a constant commentary, and the other in a manner so gentle and manly — the voice of a Daddy in love with his son.

I even love the protests that now issue from a bedroom that once was alive and vibrant at 6am (and often earlier).

“NO! Not yet! Five more minutes…” followed by the sound of a blanket being wrapped around the head and long skinny legs curling up, spider-like, until my boy is nothing more than a glob at the head of the bed, firmly protesting the dawn.

What a gift to meet the day with sounds such as these.

I love the sound of boyish laughter and screams of fun — it means they are finally able to play with one another and both find each other hysterically funny. (It also means someone is about to get hurt, so I usually just head for the Band-aids…)

How amazing is it that we can distinguish what sounds to keep and what to ignore? In the deep of the night when I’m sound asleep, and the cat’s footpaws on the floor make no difference, I still instantly awaken to the sound of a cry, a cough, or (like last week), the distinctly identifiable sound of a small body landing on hardwood.

There are other times, too, when the sound of “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in stereo makes me want to tear my hair out.

I love the sound of “I luh loo!” (it’s coming unsolicited now from Scrappy — but usually when he’s getting in trouble for something. Does it work? Of course.)

Best of all, I love the sound of their sleep.

The sweet, snuffly breath in and out.

The sigh of a stretch; chubby striped jammied body curling up like a potato bug.

The whiffle as they roll into themselves, pulling blankies closer, bottoms up, knees tucked in.

The sound of knowing they are warm, they are safe, and they are well.

Finally, no matter what kind of day it has been, I feel like I’ve done something right.

Advertisements
4 Comments leave one →
  1. November 22, 2009 2:33 am

    >You take me back to the days when my boys were little. The cycle keeps on going through the generations. I just sigh with sweet and not-so-sweet memories that make up the fabric of my life's guilt. Thank you.

  2. February 4, 2010 4:24 pm

    >What kind of espresso machine do you have? I would love to wake up to that sound! Not so subtle hint for my beloved. Instead I wake up to a little boys face saying, "It's waking up time, it's waking up time!" After which there are many snuggles for and from mommy. Though it is not a slow and easy waking up time, I still love it!

  3. February 4, 2010 4:38 pm

    >We use a Starbucks Barista – it's 8 or 9 years old and when we replace it, we'll get another one. We love it! And the kids love to "help" and push the buttons, too. Pretty soon THEY will be making the coffee!

  4. Rosie permalink
    January 12, 2012 10:21 pm

    I love this 🙂 thanks for making me stop and remember (again) you’re amazing.

I love comments! Go ahead. Give me a piece of your mind.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: