Tonight I felt impressed to stay with Kjel until she was asleep. We have a pretty good routine down with her for bedtime (three books, lights out, one story, three songs, kiss, night-night). While I was turning off the light and climbing back into bed with her (it really is a climb... did I mention I'm seven months pregnant?) she told me that she's afraid of the dark.
"I'm scared of the windows at night. Are you ever afraid, Mommy?"
"When you were a little girl?"
"Yes, and also when I'm a mommy. But do you know what I do when I'm afraid?"
"I say a prayer. Do you want to say a prayer?"
I couldn't hear her because when she prays she uses this high, tiny voice that only she and one other being can hear. But it was sweet.
Then I told her a story, then she told me a story, then I sang. Then I just felt like I should stay, so I curled up next to her and sang quietly until she fell asleep.
There is no joy on earth that compares with being a mother. I am certain of it. I don't care what anyone says about motherhood being unfulfilling in the day-in-day-out stuff. Wiping noses and bums and all that... pennies compared to the daily fulfillment that comes in their smiles, prayers, and warm little hands and cheeks at bedtime.
I love my boys with all of my soul, (boys when you read this, I LOVE YOU!) but Kjel is my little kindred spirit. She brings my life full-circle in many ways. I love her.