The Grass is Always Greener

My baby is seven weeks old (as of yesterday) and has been sleeping 7 or more hours at a time since we started him in his crib a week and a half ago. I should be over the moon, overjoyed, and estatic that I have a little boy that I can swaddle, lay down in his crib, and turn his lights and music rainforest machine on and he will fall asleep. And I am, I promise. I get to enjoy an hour or two with my husband before we snuggle into bed together. Last night I drank a beer with dinner because little boy was so tired that he went to bed at 7:30. I actually get to sleep with my husband again, and let my dog into bed with us to cuddle.

However, and I don't want to jinx myself here, I have to go back to work in less than 3 1/2 weeks, and it's hit me that if my kid is going to bed between 7:30 and 8, I will only have about 2 hours with him every evening. What?! So, as much as I love being able to sleep for at least a four hour block each night, and as much as I love knowing that my son loves being in his crib and is advanced enough to put himself to sleep there, some part of me, the mommy part that starts crying while I'm watching him fall asleep with his perfect little lips puckered, sort of wants him to cry a little.

Just enough that I can swoop him into my arms and rock him to sleep. Because he just had a bath and he smells so wonderful and the feeling of his tiny little hand rubbing up and down my shoulder is the absolute greatest thing I've ever felt. And because walking away when he's smiling up at me is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.