I was reminded of my early childhood. My mom wearing robes that swept the floor over silky empire waisted night gowns. She word jewel tones against her tropical skin. My favorites on her were a canary yellow and raspberry red. She would kiss me good night and swirl away to my father, her clean scent lingering. Her smell was so soothing to me. I can remember it now. She smelled like warmth, love, assurance, shelter, sustenance, stories with happy endings, lullabies and sweet dreams.
Tonight was night 4 of our first week of sleep training. The No-Cry Sleep Solution. Well somehow there was crying involved. Dad was trying to coax the baby back to sleep by skipping a feeding he likes to take less than 2 hours after his bedtime. He is not a new born by any means. It's a midnight snack or something. So I'm hiding in the living room so he can't see or hear me (he sleeps in our room at night). And daddy is pacing with him. The baby ends up on the couch inhaling quite loudly, not crying yet. But clearly, sniffing me out. He pops his head over the side of the couch, looks down at me and began crying with crocodile tears out "Mama!" quite willing to dive over the edge. I want to wrap my smell around him with all the good things my mother gave me.
