Sometimes he sleeps . . .

and it's the most beautiful sight. EVER.

It isn't hard for me to remember the days when my almost 3 ("I'M FOUR, MAMAAAAAAAA!!!") year old terror sweet son was a tiny infant.  I think I remember collages of days as opposed to single moments - having a 2.5 year old and a new baby, I was in such a haze that everything ran together for about the first year.  (don't judge - i was just tryin' to survive). 

Jake has always been a cuddler - he still is.  As I type this, his elbow is digging into my rib cage b/c he is smooshed against me as we sit in a recliner made for one (and one with a butt much smaller than mine, I might add).  As a baby, he loved being held - and as he got older, his favorite spot was (again) smooshed up against me on the couch.  He learned to hug at a very early age and would just squeeze my neck.  He would pat my back whenever I was carrying him - talk about making your heart swell.

Anyhoo, (I'm a rambler, you know . . .) nothing takes me back to those sweet baby days better than watching him sleep.  He's so beautiful it takes my breath away . . .

He sleeps, and I forget his frequent tantrums and craziness.  And I remember.  I remember holding him in the hospital for the first time - this baby of mine who was a complete oops surprise to his Daddy and I.  I remember all of those sweet moments awake in the middle of the night for nursing - just Jake and Mommy.  I remember cuddling with him just last week while he rubbed my face and said, "Mama, I wuv uuu."

When he sleeps, I remember.