Comfort
I didn't get a great night's sleep last night. The first time I heard Abby I was halfway out of bed before I remembered that most times she gets herself back to sleep. So I stood in the hall and waited and sure enough, within a minute she was quiet again. Before I went back to bed I glanced at the clock. 11:39. Years ago I would've thought "Sweet Jesus, I have almost 7 more hours of sleep! But now I think "Sweet Jesus, if I'm already up at 11:30 what could the rest of the night be like."
Around 2 the cat we call Black Cat but who is officially named Chairman Meow bounded up the stairs and onto my nightstand, as usual. He has realized that if he tries to knock over my bedside lamp I will get out of bed and feed him. (And they say it is hard to train a cat.) I usually oblige rather quickly because there is a reason we call him Chairman Meow. He howls like a child in pain, like a coyote in heat. A rolling MMMRRRRAAARRRROOOWWLL, that I always fear will wake up Abby.
Back to bed. The next thing I know Abby is crying again, and when I peak in her room she is standing up and oops, she sees me. It's all over now. So I get her out of her crib, grab her favorite pink blanket and we rock. And we rock. And we rock. Even though her eyes are closed I can tell she's not alseep because she is clenching her blanket tightly and rubbing her feet together like we both do when we are trying to get comfortable.
Now I am nearly blind so I cannot see the clock across the nursery. But we live on a bus route, a thing I used to hate, but I know that starting at 5 a.m. the bus will go by every 15 minutes. We wait, we rock, I hum, she squirms. No bus. After awhile I try to put her in her crib and she immediately turns over, reaches up and cries. I pick her up and check the clock as we walk out of the nursery. 4:55. If I can get her down I can get 90 more minutes of sleep.
So we lay in the big bed. I get as close to the side as I can so she can have enough room to squirm without kicking Bryon and me. She nuzzles in. I am so uncomfortable. I have half my face on the pillow, my left arm is falling asleep, my backside has no covers and I need to blow my nose. But Abby cuddles with me and as she nuzzles her head in my neck she whispers "Mama."
Sleep is overrated.
Around 2 the cat we call Black Cat but who is officially named Chairman Meow bounded up the stairs and onto my nightstand, as usual. He has realized that if he tries to knock over my bedside lamp I will get out of bed and feed him. (And they say it is hard to train a cat.) I usually oblige rather quickly because there is a reason we call him Chairman Meow. He howls like a child in pain, like a coyote in heat. A rolling MMMRRRRAAARRRROOOWWLL, that I always fear will wake up Abby.
Back to bed. The next thing I know Abby is crying again, and when I peak in her room she is standing up and oops, she sees me. It's all over now. So I get her out of her crib, grab her favorite pink blanket and we rock. And we rock. And we rock. Even though her eyes are closed I can tell she's not alseep because she is clenching her blanket tightly and rubbing her feet together like we both do when we are trying to get comfortable.
Now I am nearly blind so I cannot see the clock across the nursery. But we live on a bus route, a thing I used to hate, but I know that starting at 5 a.m. the bus will go by every 15 minutes. We wait, we rock, I hum, she squirms. No bus. After awhile I try to put her in her crib and she immediately turns over, reaches up and cries. I pick her up and check the clock as we walk out of the nursery. 4:55. If I can get her down I can get 90 more minutes of sleep.
So we lay in the big bed. I get as close to the side as I can so she can have enough room to squirm without kicking Bryon and me. She nuzzles in. I am so uncomfortable. I have half my face on the pillow, my left arm is falling asleep, my backside has no covers and I need to blow my nose. But Abby cuddles with me and as she nuzzles her head in my neck she whispers "Mama."
Sleep is overrated.
posted by Romine Family at 10:54 AM
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