There is something so sweet about waking up in the quiet morning, when the birds have yet to sing, and the babes have yet to lift their heavy eyelids and say hello to the world again for another full day. When this happens, it is quite a treat. Porter cosleeps with us, so when I look over to find him still fast asleep, I slowly creep out of bed, get myself ready for the day quietly, and climb back into bed to catch up on emails/letters I haven't replied to, listen to some music, and have my time.
When Porter begins to wake it is a slow process, he wiggles and curls up, and rolls over and noses around to find my chest to nurse on. His hair in about fifty directions. I adjust myself so that I can still enjoy some quiet momma computer time, and nurse him with some sweet music serenading us. He isn't ready to open his eyes yet and milk drunk, plops off the boob, searches for his pacifier with a heavy, tired hand and plops the paci in his mouth. Another fifteen minutes go by, and he rolls away from me to lay on his stomach with his butt up, up in the air. Hair in fifty million directions now from rustling against the sheets. And I sit...able to collect myself, relax, refresh, renew for what the day will bring with two small children, and a senior dog that has been diagnosed with Dementia and Dysphoria (I will update on that maybe later).
It's a very sweet morning.