She should be sleeping in her own bed… I know it.

But I don’t really care.

I have been out of pocket for almost a week for one reason or another.

I’m tired; I’m emotionally spent. My heart has ached for these snuggles.

How Big Is Love?

I asked her tonight if she knew how much I loved her. We tried to make up a number that could possibly encompass the amount of love I have for her.

We giggled at the silliness of what we came up with.

“A million-kajillion-bo-billion just doesn’t even come close!” I told her.

“Mom-my…” she tells me, and I know she’s rolling those five-year-old eyes at me in the dark. (Because she knows, like, EVERYTHING now.)

“Hey, ” I venture, “let me show you how much I love you. “

She raises her head and eyes me skeptically since I just, quite obviously, made up a ridiculous number and this part was not how we usually play this game.

Just Listen…

“Put your ear here…” I say, as I lay her head back on my chest. “Do you hear that?” I ask.

“Yeah, mommy. It says bump bump, bump bump,” states my know-it-all so matter-of-factly.

“No, silly,” I smile, “you have to listen closer,” I urge.

She goes in for another listen and eyes me quizzically.

“It says ‘Quinn-y, Quinn-y, Quinn-y,'” I say as I mimic the rhythm of the beat. “If you listen closely you might also hear your sister’s name and daddy’s, too.”

She listens for a while. So long that I think she might even be dozing off when her little head pops back up.

“I hear it,” she whispers. And proceeds to sing me the song of my heart in her little voice. She goes on to name others whom I care about, but did not mention to her initially.

She lays her head back down and I hear “Quinn-y, Quinn-y, Quinn-y,” for a little while longer until she drifts off.

I’m laying here in the dark, with my baby asleep on my chest. I’m tired and emotionally spent, and now I have tears streaming down my face, but my heart is so full.

She gets it.  


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Rochelle is a desert-rat from Arizona who kept moving north until she hit Colorado Springs; good luck getting her to leave now. She wasted no time snagging her husband under the pretense of athleticism and outdoorsy-ness. Among other things, eleven years of marriage has yielded two beautiful daughters, Harper and Quinn. Momming these super-sassy littles is her biggest adventure yet, and provides for some serious writing material. Rochelle works out of the home also, and has a diverse background in public relations, social work, student advising, youth ministry and pyrotechnics. She is presently finishing up her MBA and is juggling all of it fairly well for a person with little to no hand-eye-coordination. She is a firm believer that it takes a village to raise a child and she is beyond grateful for hers.