Another Tired Morning

Well, it's another tired morning in a house with a wee one:  We woke up to screams from a hungry baby, whom my beloved husband always gets from the crib down the hall and brings to me.  He's always done this since the first one -- saying, "Well, if she's going to nurse them, then I'll at least bring them to her."  (I know, he's really a wonderful guy.  Or maybe it's just that I sleep like a log and never hear them, so he figures they'll starve if he doesn't get them...Nah!  He's really just a great guy!) And once he picks her up, all goes quiet.  Her daddy has picked her up with his big strong arms.  She's secure and content.  Then he brings her to our bedroom.  In my raspy morning voice, I motion to him, saying, "Put her on this side, Hon..." and then Miss Pumpkin does it.  She lets out the biggest squeal of joy as if to say, "It's my MOMMY!"  The voice of my husband rescuing her from the jail, oops, I mean, crib, doesn't get this high pitched of a squeal.  My grumbling, gritty, morning voice gets this squeal!  What a joy!  I can't get over the fact that for the next few months, I will be a star (once again) in one of my children's lives all because I feed her.  It's a fleeting time, these baby months in which Mom is number 1 -- but I eat it up every time (no pun intended).  And it makes that tired, groggy feeling turn into one of those warm fuzzy moments that keep you going everytime.