If I’m home, I’m on bedtime. That means I do 99.9% of bedtimes around here. Which works for me, because if I’m not home to nurse the Doodle to sleep, then I have to pump. I make an effort to be home for bedtime where possible.
Tonight was no different than any other night. We splashed in the bath, put on our diaper and PJs, brushed our teeth and said goodnight to Mama, Bella, Bubaloo and Mr. Mooster. We curled up in the rocking chair together and nursed. Then when it was time to switch to the other side, I lay down beside the Doodle to nurse her to sleep in her own bed.
After a while she unlatched and asked for the other side. That’s not common, but not unusual either. And then after another short while, she announced that she was all done.
From time to time she tells me she’s all done and then she quickly re-latches and is asleep within a few minutes.
Tonight was different. She got out of bed, walked to the door while crying for Mama, opened the bedroom door still crying for Mama and then toddled down the hall still shouting for her Mama.
She requested Mama, rocking and milk.
Mama is now upstairs in the rocking chair armed with a bottle of milk trying to coax the toddler to sleep.
I’ve been preparing myself for this. But a little part of my heart broke. I’m not quite ready to be replaced as the bedtime mother.