It's 3 O'clock In The Morning.

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Like The Weather
by 10,000 Maniacs


It's 3 o'clock in the morning. I'm sitting up in bed while my tiny one lays draped across my arm, tummy to tummy in her ballerina fleece footie jammies, eating. After every couple of swallows she lets out a very soft "Mm", as if to say, "I have my mommy and my milk. Everything is right in my world." She stretches her leg up and then rests her tiny "slippered" foot on my other arm, her tiny hand covered by a mitt for warmth, rests on my breast. After surrendering to a deep sleep, her head slowly falls back, signaling that she is content. I dab her perfect little mouth with a cloth while it sticks out a tiny tongue, puckers, then makes a soft smacking sound. It's then by the soft, dim light of the of the bedside night lamp that I gaze at her, her mouth agape. Her face transitions between smilling, brows furrowed and peacful stillness. I think to myself, "My God, she's SO beautiful!"

(I must add here, that all these words, in no way, even come close to describing how she makes me feel. I'm just sayin'.)