I have never rocked my kids to sleep. Not that I don’t think it’s a wonderful thing… and not that I’m against rocking babies, it just wasn’t a good game plan for our family. Each of my kids have traveled with me since they were three weeks old. Sleeping in lots of different beds, in lots of different rooms, in lots of different states just doesn’t work if you have a baby that needs rocked in order to go to sleep. We have a bedtime routine… baths, jammies, prayers, singing (yes me… and it’s BAD) hugs, kisses and good nights. No matter where you are, all of those things work (unless the hotel has thin walls and I start singing… that could be bad for the neighbors). All of this “rocking” talk leads me to the reason for this blog post. Tonight Otey had Cooper and Grady at the lake fishing late and I came home early with Nash. It was thirty minutes past his bedtime when we got home so I quickly washed him and put him in his jammies. We were headed for his room when he started “milt milt milt” pointing at the kitchen/living-room (that’s milk for you non kid-havers out there). I set him down, got his milk out of the refrigerator, and when I handed it to him he took hold of my hand, lead me to the old green wooden rocking chair that sits in our living room, patted the seat and said “rocky-rocky”. I sat down in our dark empty house, he climbed up in my lap, and I rocked him until he fell asleep. Oh ya… and I cried. I cried because it was like everything stood still in my dark quiet house and for twenty minutes my Nash was an only child. There were no “I needs” or “I wants” from other kids, no noise, no distractions… just him being a baby that loved his mama, and me being a Mom with all the time in the world to love him. Seriously seems like just yesterday he was a tiny tiny baby. Moral of this story… my goal this summer is to have lots of those moments with each of my kids. I am so blessed and I want to slow down and breath in every second of it.