So, not a silent night

Tonight is not a silent night. It is 4:40 a.m., and here I sit. Waiting on the washing machine to do my dirty work.  R.J. is sick--not terribly sick, just a mild fever. I gave him Tylenol at 3:45, and thirty minutes later, "blurp." Tylenol upchucked, and blankie is dirty. After a year of trying to convince him that his favorite blankie was not the white satin and plush blanket that I had purchased for special occasions and perhaps a photo shoot, I gave up. The choice has been made:

A year later, blankie still resembles white. Red marker stains, as does chocolate milk. (Tide stain release works best for those who are interested.)  But, blankie is blankie. No substitute will do. So, tonight I sit.  And wait.

I requested his permission to move him to his crib from the twin bed while I changed the sheets. He granted my request but also demanded Cuddles. [he's a little dictator--even sick]  He immediately fell asleep. I do not have such resilient powers of sleep. At 4:40, my mind wanders. I have court tomorrow. And a sick baby.

I don't worry about leaving him with his nanny when he's a little sick. She's more than capable, and she loves him. But I'm his  mommy. I want to be there when he cries and when he blurps. I want to be the one smoothing his shaggy hair from his eyes and rocking him back to sleep. Instead, I'll sit in a drafty courtroom and listen to two lawyers snipe at each other about who did or didn't send a nasty e-mail last night.

Not to mention, I'm missing the morning nap that's sure to come tomorrow. I need that morning nap--more than he does, I suspect. Instead, I'll sit here until the washer "bings!" And, when blankie is clean, I'll carry to him--warm and fresh. When I was little, our washing machine broke, and I upchucked on my blankie. My mom took me to the laundromat, and we waited while blankie spun. I learned from the best.  I can't stay home tomorrow, but at least I can wait for blankie to spin and give him a softer morning wake up.