The last thing I do every night before I go to bed is check on the kids in their beds. Ella is always sprawled across hers, all arms and legs. One arm or one leg is usually dangling over the rail of her bunk. Lily is a bundle in her bed. Often all I see is her hair poking out from under her comforter. Both have so many stuffed animals and dolls in their beds that it's hard to believe there is room for them.
I never know what I'll find when I check on Campbell. Sometimes he's rolled into a ball, with his butt in the air; sometimes he's stretched out, arm spread across the crib. Last night when I went in, he sat up in his crib without waking up. I patted his back and tipped him over on to his side, covering him up with his blanket. He promptly rolled onto his back and started chuckling. I draped myself over the side of the crib and listened to him, my heart breaking with love. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Campbell opened his eyes and held out his arms to me, saying "mummumumum." I nearly swooned with joy. Then I tip-toed out, afraid he wouldn't go back to sleep, but he did.
Moments like those, watching my children sleep, hearing them laughing in their sleep, make all the nonsense and trouble and stress worth it. Those are the moments I need to remember forever.