Lullaby Baby, Lullaby Dear

After a 3-hour battle to get you to sleep (Emmett vs Mom & Grandparents) you have finally dosed off   In my arms as I rocked you and sang your lullaby (for the fourth time this hour). It's almost midnight and we both have a long day tomorrow, so I should probably set you down and go to bed. All I can think about, however, is how my arms don't remember your weight and feel when you were 1 month old, or 3 months old, or 6 months old. You and I hardly fit in this rocking chair anymore, and over time my arms have molded to whatever size you needed them to, but oh how I wish more than anything to hold you as a little baby again. We have spent hundreds of hours in this rocking chair, yet somehow it is not enough. It's never enough. You grow every day, and I don't want to set you down because I know that one day I will be wishing to remember what you felt like at 14 months. I'm just not ready for the day when I'll have to stop rocking you altogether, baby boy. We are both exhausted, yet I wish this night would last forever.
With all my heart,
Momma.

Tenacity or Pigheadedness?

I sometimes get frustrated because it can be hard to put you to sleep. No matter how tired you are, you keep your eyes wide open and make angry little grunts as long as there is something interesting going on around you. I've seen this go on for hours. One time you were so tired from all the fussing that you slept for 10 hours straight, and only woke up because I really felt like you needed to eat. 

Today I finally got you to close your eyes after 30 minutes of slowly diminishing growls by putting a light blanket over half of your face (that's how you like to sleep, I don't know why, it freaks me out sometimes, but I do it too, so I got no one to blame). As I sit here looking at you, I'm thinking: "Wow, he has a lot of fight in him. That will take him far one day."