Musical Beds

We had a really rough night last night-the first one in awhile, so I really shouldn't complain, but I find myself cherishing any sleep I do get and also being insanely jealous of anyone who gets more than me on a consistent basis. And so, the drama of last night:

Ellie skipped her nap yesterday (I say this like she regularly takes a nap, ha!), so we started getting her ready for bed early, around 7:00. Moira was tired out, too, so braving the consequences of putting a young baby to sleep to early and having her wake up ready to play at 2:00 am, I decided to follow her lead and let her go to sleep for the night.
Slow forward an hour of book reading and song singing and teeth brushing and (I'll admit it) some crying with Ellie, and she and I are laying down on her bed together while she pokes me with her adorable little pointer finger and then, just as I'm about to pass out from exhaustion, her breathing slows, her eyes flutter, the finger stops poking!! The two squirming, active, vocal girls I had been playing with, feeding, changing, and entertaining all day were finally asleep and one day closer to being playmates with each other and not just me.

What I should have done: Crawled from the girls' bedroom into my own bedroom and fallen immediately asleep on our pillowtop king.

What I did: Hoisted myself off Ellie's bed and climbed down the stairs and settled down to the very important business of watching TV. And, since it was NBC Thursday, it was pretty funny, and then Moira woke up at nine for a little snack, so I fed her and layed her back down in her bed and she drifted back into a peaceful sleep. I thought I had made the right decision, since if I had crawled to my bed immediately, I would have only been summoned within an hour to take care of Moira. But I was wrong. You see, I'm like a magpie--attracted by bright flashy things--and watching TV usually wakes me up and I puttered around and read and wrote in my journal before I finally felt tired again around 12:30. I lay in bed assuring myself that Moira is capable of sleeping 11 hours and she probably won't wake me up until 9:00 am. I am lying to myself.

1:40--Ellie cries out in her sleep. A dream? Physical discomfort? I know not. By the time I stumbled into her room to check on her(and wake up her sister), she is asleep again. I put in Moira's binky.

1:42--The binky has not worked. I'm in the rocking chair, feeding Moira.

3:20--Moira again. The prospect of the binky not working is so daunting I don't try it, but I'm so tired I imagine myself falling out of the rocking chair, so I drag her into bed with me, promising myself that I'll get back up and put her back in her crib. This is a lie.

4:00 Moira is awake again, and batting at my shirt, much in the way I imagine lobsters swing their claws. She is grinning at me. Cooing. I get up, put in Moira's binky and cuddle her until her eyes are once again closed.

4:50 Moira again. She couldn't possibly me hungry AGAIN, could she? She doesn't even eat this often during the day. I go in and check her diaper, she is kicking and cooing again. Grinning. But I fight the urge to play and wrap her up again.

5:20--Suddenly there's someone in our bed that is not Chris and is not me. "Let's go get some breakfast, Daddy," says Ellie. (there's a reason Chris sleeps by the door). "Five more minutes, honey," Chris says, scooting over to make room for our rambunctious two year old. Within minutes it's as if he's let a racoon between the sheets. They get up and go downstairs to lay on the couch. I hear screaming for a blanket and get up to bring Ellie's lovie down to her. Ellie wants me. She wants to rock. In her chair. In the room she shares with Moira. Ok, but she'll have to be quiet. She promises. She lies.

5:40 Moira again. Chris comes in to take Ellie and they go lay in our bed. I feed Moira and lay her back down. I collapse in Ellie's bed.

6:30 I smell French Toast. Chris and Ellie are getting breakfast. Moira wimpers, but I refuse to believe she is rested and in goes the binky one more time.

6:45 Binky.

7:10--I finally decide night is over and get Moira up. She kicks and cooes, delighted to see me, as if it's been hours since last we interacted. And she's smacking her lips like she's hungry.

That's what I get for posting that Moira slept 11 hours.