Creeping...

I had a moment the other day. One of those ah-ha moments when suddenly I saw my own life drawing a distinct parallel to that of my parents and in that instant, I knew exactly how they felt, thought and worried about us growing up.

I was at my mother's house with my 7-month old son, spending some much-needed quality time together. As she watches my nephew 3 days a week, she conveniently has everything necessary for a little one including toys, a crib, high chair, etc. I had gotten the baby to go down for a nap in the crib in my brothers' old bedroom upstairs. It allowed for some necessary bonding time between my mother and I, talking about motherhood, marriage, faith, and life in general. After about half an hour of conversation, I thought I would check on my little one, knowing he's not one for long naps and I didn't want him to wake up in a strange room and be frightened.

I tip-toed up the old stairs, the age-old wood groaning under my feet, and I quietly cracked open the door. When I saw he was still snoozing, I crept back down the stairs and thought of all those times my mother or father must have done the same thing; holding their breath as they themselves crept down the stairs, hoping for just a few more minutes of peace and quiet, regardless of how much they loved their kids. There is just that feeling of relief, when your body tangibly releases a sigh of joy, when your child is finally asleep.

I thought back to those times when I was between sleep and waking in my own room as a child and hearing my parents' footsteps on the stairs and the peace that it gave me knowing they were there.

I can only imagine that the parallels - both good and bad - will continue to present themselves as we get older and our children grow and mature. Even before our baby was born, I could understand the incessant worry that my parents must have had for us. Everything we do now has a direct affect on our baby boy. As he is just learning how to move around, suddenly our house is a vault of unexpected weapons of mass destruction and I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider wrapping every sharp-edged piece of furniture in bubble wrap. I know only too well that we won't be able to protect him forever, but for now, I'll relish creeping down the hall to make sure he's sleeping snuggly in his bed.