Bath and Bed.

I just got done with the "bath and bed" routine. It took 4 hours. 

Ok, not really. But I went from dinner, to cleaning dinner, to bath and bed for Luke, straight to bath and bed for Sam, with no breaks in between. It was tiring and my mood was not the best. Some nights, this routine goes off without a hitch. My babies are laughing and happy. I giggle with Sam about splashed water, and whisk into the clean kitchen for a fresh towel to wipe it up with as the dishwasher hums quietly in the background. I do not wrestle him to brush his teeth. He gives big hugs and kisses and says, "night night dada and Wuke" at least ten times. Everyone is smiling and relaxed. 

Tonight was not one of those nights. 

I was rushed and annoyed. Luke was tired and hungry a bit before what would have been a convenient time for us. I had to nag at Mike and Sam to hurry up and get in the house at least 5 times before they actually came in. Sam was a bit whiney, and I snapped at him when he splashed in the bath. I wasn't in the mood for the fight he put up to stay in the tub. He screamed as I pinned him down to brush his teeth. Dishes sat in the sink and toys sat around carelessly as I walked into his room for bed. I just wanted to toss him on his bed and quickly retreat to my own bedroom, possibly with a glass of wine. 

But then.

Then, as we closed his door and turned off his lights, he sighed. He actually audibly sighed, and laid his head down on my shoulder. My heart softened and I just kind of held him. He then started slowly singing our nightly bedtime song, "Jesus Loves Me," in my ear and my heart melted. I forgot all about our rushed night. I held him close and cherished the feeling of his little body in my arms. I slowly said our prayer and really thought about every word. I asked him for a kiss and then "another," which he thinks is hilarious for some reason. He giggled and kissed me again and again. I felt blessed beyond measure, and guilty for my bad mood. I put him in bed and tucked him in. He has started the habit of saying "cozy" when I do this, which I find absolutely adorable. I kissed him goodnight and left the room, only to trot ten steps over to Luke's room. I watched his tiny chest move up and down and heard his sweet breath. It's probably post partum hormones (do you still have those 3 months later?) but I practically teared up. I restrained from picking him up, and instead tip toed out of his room. 

I still feel guilty for my crappy attitude I had all night. 

Thank God for little toddler sighs and sweet baby breaths to bring me back to reality.