We Interrupt this Race, for a Moment of Grace...

I literally was placing the cooler in the trunk when my phone beeped with a text, "The race starts at one. Come at 2:30."

The Indianapolis 500 causes traffic around the Speedway to seize in every direction for hours. There is a very small window while the race is actually going on that movement is possible. If you stay out too long, like I did last year, you find your highway exits blocked. We could see our apartment and could have abandoned the car and walked there. But drive there? No way. We spent two hours trying to get home.

So with more time before we left than I expected, I came in and flipped Adam on his tummy. Seems an odd thing to do with extra time, but this boy needs the practice. I settled in with a magazine. As my butt hit the chair, he promptly threw up on his activity mat and then laid his freshly washed head in it and cried.

Plan B. A quick wash, cuddle time, and a nap.

I have a rule that there are to be no babies in our bed with us. EVER. Ismael conveniently ignores my proclamation from time to time despite my dire warnings to do him great harm if he continues. I know too many people who thought a baby sleeping in their bed with them was harmless. Fast forward five years and they are trying to pry the pre-kindergartner out of their king size bed and into his or her own. No thank you.

I have to admit, there is something alluring about cuddling up with your son, if you can get past the initial thrashing, poking, pulling, and kicking. He laid there looking lovingly at me as he pulled on my lips, stuck his finger up my nose, cut my lip with his death grasp, and pulled my hair. He then turned himself and kicked the you know what out of my arm while screeching with sheer delight.

If this is what he does to Bear at night, I think Bear is a fool for not going on strike long ago.

I laid there reading my magazine and getting angry about one of the newer mommy books. To be fair, I have not read the book or much about it, but there is something in the title that is meant to be funny I am sure: "Occasional moments of grace."

I looked over at my son who had closed his eyes, settled down and fallen asleep while keeping his outstretched hand on my arm.

A moment of grace.

I would have missed it if I had come in and gone about my chores that surely could use some extra attention.

I was reminded of my original argument when I started this blog. Motherhood (and life for that matter) is a continuous collection of God's Smallest Graces, IF we only recognize them.

A nap always makes everything better.