As an addition to this week’s obsessions, can I just say I’m obsessed with watching my baby sleep?
I’m not saying that in a joking, “oh-my-gosh, I’m totally obsessed with my baby!” way. I actually think I’m obsessed. Like, I have a problem.
When Adlai was just a couple of weeks old, I emailed some of my mama friends and told them I had a problem – that I kept waking up in the middle of the night, holding my finger below his nostrils to make sure I could feel his hot little breath, using the light of my cell phone to watch his chest rise and fall in the middle of the night. I asked them if this was normal. They told me it was.
Thankfully, three months later, I sleep a bit better. But I still check. And when he’s taking his usual marathon afternoon nap, I’m up and down the stairs to our room on an every-15-minute basis. Just to check. Just to watch him. Just to see his tiny little mouth moving in a dream-sucking-state (I’m pretty sure he’s having visions of a giant boob).
When does it end? When he’s a year old? Five years? Ten?
When he’s eighteen, will I drive to his dorm room and peek in the window, just to be sure he’s still breathing? (And that there are no skanky girls in there?)