I am home, you're my home, stay with me

Much less sappy entry (with Ari videos and a picture of what I swear I always look like at 5 AM) below.

Ari stayed with my parents last night while we were at the all-nighter. I called my mom a little after 8 to see how she was doing, and Mom said she was refusing to go to bed. When I woke up at my parents' house today, I asked Mom what time Ari finally settled down last night, and with a wry laugh, Mom replied, "4:30 in the morning."

Needless to say, I felt awful. Her sleeping patterns have been a little off lately--like she'll wake up briefly once or twice in the night, or have a little trouble settling down--but nothing like that.

So I braced myself for a fight with Ari tonight, and she did not disappoint. No sooner had Tony laid her down than she started screaming--I mean literally screaming like someone was killing her.

We tag-teamed going up to soothe her, waiting certain intervals to see if she would calm herself. On my second turn up there with her, I went through the normal routine--reach down and hug her (without picking her up), speak softly to soothe her, and then lay her down. I decided to sing her a song or 2 to settle her down.

I was partway through the second song, leaning on the side of her crib like I always do, when I noticed her move out of the corner of my eye. I glanced down and saw that she had pulled her hand out from under the blanket and was reaching up towards my hands, which were resting on the crib rail.

I leaned down and gave her my hand. She carefully adjusted both of our hands until she was holding my hand just the way she wanted. And then after a few moments, she moved my hand to her other hand, and reached up again with that first hand. I kept singing, but couldn't hold back the tears as I gave her my other hand. Again, she adjusted the positions of our hands, and then once she was content with that, she visibly relaxed, and let her eyes begin to droop shut.

Sweet as this was, it soon became uncomfortable for me, hunched over like that. I pulled my hands away for a moment as I sat myself down on the floor. Her eyes flew open in alarm, and I reached through the crib slats to grab her one hand with my one hand. But one was still not enough--she reached through the slats for my other hand. We finally "compromised" with me holding her hand with one hand and rubbing her belly with the other hand.

I went through several songs like this, sitting on the floor, singing everything from Disney songs to Broadway showtunes, and choking back tears. It didn't help that most of the songs I was singing were sentimental ones anyway.

I kept thinking of all the things I still had to do before I could go to bed--finish listening to music for church, do the dishes, take a shower, maybe spend some quality time with Tony--but none of that seemed important at the moment. As I looked at her sleepy face in the dim light of the nightlights in her room, I tried to imagine her as a teenager. I could picture myself sneaking into her room at night, smiling tearfully at her sleeping face, and longing for moments like the one I was currently in.

I can listen to church music later. The dishes can wait. And though I would like to get to bed early tonight to make up for my lack of sleep last night, even that doesn't seem like that big of a deal. All that mattered in those moments was the sleepy angel in her crib who apparently wanted and needed nothing more than a hand to hold and a voice to sing her into dreamland.

What an honor that she chose me.