My Favorite Time of Day Hey, I'm versed in case you didn't know, and yes, this is as effusive as it will ever get.

You fuss, you cry, you thrash about while I change your diaper and put on your jammies. Your exhaustion frustration is as evident as the weight of your eyelids. I pick you up, we walk over to your dresser, turn on your Celtic lullaby's cd and the twilight turtle. You perk up upon seeing the blue lights beam through Mr. Turtle's shell and pat it excitedly. I say night night and you squeal in blue light, twilight turtle delight and I know you're still my baby.

I pick up the bottle, you'll only eat 2 or so ounces, but I know you still need the comfort of it as we rock. I fit you in the small of my arm even as your legs drape well over the side of mine and your arms can wrap around my shoulders. I put the bottle to your mouth and immediately see those familiar heavy eyes appear as you struggle and fight to keep them from closing all together. I smile remembering that exact same struggle from breastfeeding you at two days old and I know you're still my baby.

After only a short time, you angrily reject the bottle. I know all you want is to lay against me now. I set the bottle on the corner of your crib and shift your little body upright against mine. Your head falls forward, you don't even try to hold it up any longer and I know you just want to burrow into me. In this small movement I find such happiness and inner peace. I hold you close savoring the smell of your freshly bathed hair mixed with soft bedtime lotion and I know that you're still my baby.

We rock to the Irish Lullaby (too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry), I hear the gentle waves roar in and out from your sound maker, with each creak of the rocker your little fingers brush against my arm and I close my eyes and try to freeze time. I take in each creak, each wave, each lyric and each breath. Your breaths grow heavier and deeper until I know I have to lay you down. I lift you up and you barely move at all, heavy in your end of day slumber, you give a little sigh and wimper and I know you're still my baby.

We walk by your mirror, I'm meticulous in capturing the details of your sleeping face nestled between my jaw and shoulder bone, safe in my arms, secure. I want my mind to etch that image, unchanging any detail, of this fleeting and most cherished time of ours. It's yours and mine alone, when I feel most capable of providing you with everlasting shelter and love. This time, this most precious time, when I feel most grateful to be your mommy and when I know you'll always be my baby...