Daddy Heaven

The following was originally posted October 5, 2009 at http://www.parentclick.com/BlogPost.html?id=1262:

One of the craziest things about being a parent is that you never know when you'll have a moment to bond with a child.

In some ways I feel like I haven't had a whole lot of time alone with Mason, our 9-month-old. When he was born, I was as busy chasing Riley and Jenna around the hospital as I was holding my newborn son (and, as when Jenna was born, I took the elders home every night rather than stay at the hospital).

Ditto for the 8 1/2 or so months he's been home. Sure I've done all of the essentials: changing diapers, late-night feedings. But as far as the simple, one-on-one moments, they've been a little more spare than with the older two.

That all changed this past Sunday. A crazy busy Saturday left me really exhausted Sunday morning, so much so that I woke up with a headache that really felt like two--one behind each throbbing eye.

Crystal being the wonderful wife she is took the kids upstairs for awhile and let me doze on my comfy recliner for about an hour.

When she announced a trip to the store, the throbbing had subsided to a twinge, and I felt well enough for her to leave the youngest of my progeny.

I ran upstairs and grabbed the big quilt off of our bed and came back down to the recliner. Mason, who has been crawling and more recently pulling himself up to a standing position, had ambled into the office, where he was eating paper he found on the floor. It was about 1:00, the Colts game was just starting, and I knew he was about ready for a nap.

We sat down together, nestled under the quilt, watching Peyton Manning and Co. dismantle the Seattle Seahawks. I pointed out a few key players to Mason, and startled him a time or two when the Colts had a big play.

But soon he started squirming, which meant he is ready for sleep. I secured him in the blanket and rocked him, bounced him, and patted his backside. He lay still, paralyzed by the lovely warmth of the quilt, and he drifted off into the most wonderful stage of sleep for the parent of a baby, when they're peaceful, but not totally asleep. I gave Mase little kisses on his cheek and neck, and he giggled gently. I planted a kiss just in front of his open mouth, and again he chuckled, his face turning up into a lovely little grin.

He eventually drifted off to sleep, and I held him, which is something I typically don't do when the kids go to sleep; I typically find a nice resting spot for them, so that 1) they aren't disturbed by me moving around, and 2) I can get up and do things as necessary. This time I was a little more content to sit still.

Mason laid in my arms for a solid hour, then stirred, wiggled to my other arm, then nodded back off, where he stayed for another 45 minutes or so. Mason is a notoriously light sleeper, and a nap of 2 hours is a rarity for him. But there he lay, snoozing away as the Colts dominated. It was a veritable Daddy Heaven, a Sunday afternoon in a lounger, my little boy on my lap.

I'd like to think Crystal recognized that Mason and I needed a little time together and planned her trip accordingly. Is that the case? I'm not sure.

But I do know it's time to go. Crystal just called from the other room. "Mason needs you," she said.