A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Sunday, August 03, 2014

Nighttime Is NOT The Right Time

Sometimes I forget how chaotic nights can be for me. Friday night was one of those nights. It's been enough time that I hadn't had to deal with more than needing earplugs for a few hours, that I'd forgotten what a right crazy night around here was like.
It started with Miles, singing and carrying on loudly. I solved it with earplugs. But then there was Charlie, long after Miles had gone to sleep.
Charlie making noise so loud that I can't sleep, with earplugs in. Charlie coming into my room, to say HI. or I WANT WATER. (The water is right there, take it).
Then there was Julia. Tossing. Turning. Declaring a leg cramp. She had a leg cramp once or twice. Since then, it's a fashion. Then she takes her foot and digs it into my thigh. Repeatedly. Tosses.
Then Charlie.
Then she turns, repeats the foot dig.
I threaten, I say you'll have to go sleep in your own bed if you're going to keep this up.
Charlie is howling, and making bizarre noises, apparently because he can.
I keep drifting off, only to wake up, and realize that it's all still going on.
My wonderful husband comes in and says "What's the hub-bub Bub?" I tell him I'm so tense I can't stand it, my teeth hurt, I'm grinding them. What can I do they're driving me nuts?
He rubs my shoulders and neck and makes me feel melty and relaxed.

Right about the time he goes back out, it all starts up again. So I said FUCK IT and I got up.

Julia gets lip trembly and teary eyed and I told her to go to sleep and stomped off.

I park myself on the sofa and open up the Kindle app to continue reading THE HELP. After about a chapter the husband comes down and tells me Julia is scared and thinks I'm mad.

Well, I am mad.

But I'm not mad at her. I'm just mad because I'm not asleep and I'm damn tired. I want to be asleep. I turn a couple more pages and realize she's only 4 and I've left her alone in the darkish room and she's scared and god I'm a selfish jerk. So I put the tablet away and head up to her.

She's sound asleep. Everyone is. I pull her close and she snuggles into her sleeping spot, which is basically in my armpit. I watch her sleeping with the face of that baby they handed me all those years ago and remember what she said to me when she crawled into bed that same night, "Mommy, make room for your baby."

There's always room for my baby. All four of them.

I go to sleep feeling like an inpatient jerk. But, at least I went to sleep.