**Yes, I know there are about 15 blaring instances of huge mommy mistakes and inconsistencies in here. Why do you think I’m here blogging instead of sleeping?**
It’s 5:35 a.m. at our house, a door swings open and little feet patter into our room. Baboo 2 is latched onto me so I nudge husband and say, “Help Little Miss go back to sleep.” Husband grunts and rolls out of bed. He stumbles into LM’s room6, but before he can get there, she bounces in singing, “Nilk! Nilk!”
This is not going to go well.
He walks her back into her room where wails of “Mommy! Mommy! Play! Play!” commence.
Since Baboo has latched off, I stumble into her room to try my hand at the negotiation process:
“It is NOT playtime, it is sleep time. You may come into our room and lay down with us, but you must lay there quietly and try to SLEEP or you will go back to your bed.”
Great. Freaking. Idea.
In the meantime, Baboo has woken up again and is frantically searching for another nipple–any nipple she can find (except a pacifier nipple which she gags on and spits out *sigh*). I sternly tell LM to lay down and sleep, and latch Baboo 2 on to the other side, offering LM my hair to use as a teddy bear.
Kid 2 latched on on one side, Kid 1 furiously rubbing my head on the other. Doesn’t that sound like a spacious, luxurious, way to catch some fulfilling Zs???
Baboo finally latches off but stays snuggled close to my chest in the crook of my arm. LM is still furiously running her fingers through my hair. Then her little legs start moving back and forth against my thigh. Then her other hand starts patting up and down. Oh. And she’s whispering, “Sleep… Sleep. Head down. Sleep, Mommy, Sleep.”
I have all of 3 inches of space that my body is wedged into. Husband, who stumbled back to bed early in the encounter, by the way, is lavishly enjoying a few cubic acres of space on his side of the bed and snoring away.
The rubbing and whispering continues. I roll my head back and say, “Mommy needs a little space. Can you scoot over?” I then gently um… shove… my darling first born towards her Daddy’s lush acreage. She rolls into him, then rolls back just enough to grab onto my hair again. Then she scoots back and snuggles into my back–one hand in hair, legs rubbing back and forth against me, whispering furiously all the time about sleep… sleep…
At this point, sleep deprived me is struggling to maintain composure. I offer the, ‘go back to bed’ possibility which LM eagerly accepts only to dissolve into hysterics when I actually make a move on it. Not. Going. To. Happen.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Finally, in desperation and a need to get out of the space-deprived bed or else go mad I stumble into the bathroom to pee. When I get back to the bedrooms I see that LM is climbing into her bed. I go in and try to encourage this with our normal bargain of ‘first song’ (on her lullaby c.d.) and me laying my head on her pillow for the length of it. LM sits bolt upright and says, “Play! Nilk!” Grrreeeat…..
And here we are, an hour and a half after the games began–but with no more sleep to account for–Little Miss is curled up on the couch watching “Pooh,” Baboo is wiggling on her bouncy seat, and I am here telling you the tale of our morning.
And Husband? He’s sleeping soundly in his spacious, warm, kid-free acreage.