Naptime.

Raindrop's wails chafe my spirits and I turn the monitor down. I make my way to her napping place, the floor of our closet, and see her once more turned on to her back, crying into space. Again, is this the fifth time, sixth? I turn her over and put her pacifier back into her mouth, cover her with warm blankets and quietly shut the door most of the way. Frustration knocks at my heart door again. Why can't she nap today? My list of things to do is long, and barely begun, though daytime is half over. Her brothers' naps won't last long, and my quiet time slips away with each minute of continued crying. I return and change her diaper, while she grins at me and then begins sucking her big toe. The sweetness charms me, and when she's clean and dry, no sign of sleepiness in her sparkling eyes, I begin again. When the boys wake up I have a shopping trip planned. Boys to Great-grammie's house, Raindrop, fresh and happy from a good nap, accompanying me down each isle. That's the plan. So she must sleep, or our outing will be as frustrating as this naptime. I turn her over onto her blanket and lie down with her. My mind fills with thoughts of chores undone. Meals to plan. Shopping list to write. Laundry to continue doing. Firewood to bring in.

Her body fights my arm resting firmly across her back, holding her still. She squirms and pushes, then finally relaxes. My eyes are mostly closed to encourage an atmosphere of rest, and she gazes at them, still, for several minutes. Her round head and soft cheeks are highlighted by a glow of faint light filtered through the slightly open door. I am stilled. Gratitude fills me as I spend a quiet moment with my baby girl. I wish, as I've wished many times, that I had more time to be still and enjoy her youngest days. I watch impatiently for signs of crawling because experience tells me life becomes easier when a baby is able to get places on her own. How do I make myself stop and enjoy her soft plumpness, so quick to fade when she begins to move herself around? Sometimes I'm forced into it. Like today. Finally, sleep closes her eyes, and her hand on my cheek goes limp. I move my head and her fingers cling to a tangle of my hair. I gently remove them and continue my day in humbled gratitude. I need to be focused. I need to be diligent. I need to live life on purpose, intentionally working toward goals. But in spite of all that, life is better when small moments happen, beyond my control, that make me stop and drink of the best of life, right here in my own bedroom closet.