A bedtime surprise

Our sons’ bedroom is dark as I’m finally heading to bed. I creep into the room in my socks, the image of stealth, coming to check on my sleeping children.

They’re silent and still, snuggled under their blankets, and I inch over to my younger son’s bed. I lean over him, ready to give this angelic child a kiss.

“Aww, he’s so sweet,” I think as I bend down. “They’re just so innocent and cute when they’re sleeping.”

I pause for a moment, thinking how blessed I am, feeling the pride and joy and peace that a mother feels watching her children sleep. After a day of chaotic remote learning for our children and many projects and conversations for me, I am cherishing this moment when all is calm. The pressures of this crazy pandemic life start to dissipate. The anxieties of today and the stresses of tomorrow fade, and all I can see is my sleeping baby boy, his hair falling across his forehead, his breathing slow and calm.

He’s just so…

“BOO!” His eyes fly open and he jerks up in bed with a huge smile.

It takes my breath away.

“Did I scare you?” he says.

Oh, he scared me all right. He really got me that time. His fake sleeping was spot on, prize-winning, on a whole new level.

We laugh quietly because someone in the room actually is asleep, and we don’t want to wake him up. But my fake sleeper is proud, and he knows I love a good joke, so I’m not upset. In the darkness, I turn from scared mom into fellow conspirator, whispering a nighttime conversation as my not-so-little boy inches closer to sleep.

I get him an extra blanket and he snuggles back in bed.

These days the mornings start like a tsunami. The nights end in a whisper. And in between I marvel at all we pack into a day—the busyness, the emotions, the snacking, the questions, the answers, and the surprises. Some days I wonder how we will do this one more day. Some days I feel we (mostly) have it all together. Every day I stop and think, “How is this where we are and what we are doing?” It’s all just so, so much.

But then I’m tucking a child into bed, and it’s the most ordinary and beautiful thing in the world. And I find myself thinking that I truly am blessed. God is with us. He is here. And He loves me even at my most frazzled and overwhelmed.

“I didn’t come to say prayers with you,” I say, feeling a little guilty. I was working late and didn’t feel I could stop until my writing was finished. And now we missed praying together—at a time when we need prayers so much.

“Oh, we said prayers,” he says.

“You did?”

“We said a Hail Mary.“

A Hail Mary without any prompting. Imagine. God and little boys are full of surprises.

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