The moment

Last night I spent 10 minutes with 10-year-old E before he went to sleep, massaging his arms and shoulders, playing with his hair, and tracing the lines of his eyebrows over and over. So relaxing for him. So relaxing for me. He was almost asleep when I left, but just awake enough to smile with his eyes closed and melt me with a soft "I love you, Mommy."

As I closed his door, my first thought was: Why don't I have the patience to do that more often?

By the time he's bedding down it's normally 8:30pm or a little later. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I want to wash my face, get into bed and watch mindless reruns of Law & Order: SVU until I fall asleep myself. Understandable, since I get up with the kids early and am usually going, going, going all day.

But would it kill me to give my kid 10 minutes? It would make him so happy. And how much longer, really, is he even going to want me in his room at bedtime?

Must carpe diem. Must try to stave off collapse long enough to play with child's hair before sleep. Must try to remember just how pleasant it was last night, touching his soft skin and silky hair. Must think of it as something good for both of us.