Twenty-four Hours Ago: A wicked, wicked night.

Last night was one of those nights I wanted to run away to Mexico. For about five minutes I seriously thought about leaving my house. Not necessarily for Mexico, but maybe the backseat of the car.  Our girls are still sick with respiratory viruses of some sort. Frances is also teething. Liam and I co-sleep by way of bed-sharing with Frances, our youngest, as we did with Nora until she was two. Although Nora now goes to bed in her own bed, she inevitably ends up in our bed at some point in the middle of the night. Oh, and I’m also still nursing Frances (more to come in a future post about the pros and cons of bed-sharing as well as breastfeeding while pregnant). Every now and then a series of events such as these come together to create a perfect storm of nighttime restlessness and misery for all those involved. Thankfully Nora slept through all of this particular mess. If only Liam and I had been so lucky.

A synopsis:

8:45 p.m. Go to bed with Frances.

9:00 p.m. until 1:30 a.m. Sleep soundly without incident.

1:30 a.m. until 2:00 a.m. Wide awake with pregnancy insomnia.

2:00 a.m. Frances wakes up and decides to be miserable for several hours.

2:01 a.m. until 3:50 a.m. Frances alternates between tossing and turning, laying on my face, playing with the window curtain, nursing, and moaning, “Noooo. Noooo!!!” Nothing I can do or offer makes her feel any better.

3:51 a.m. I break down and ask Liam to take her anywhere and do anything with her so I can just get one more hour of sleep before we have to go in to work.

3:52 a.m. until 5:11 a.m. In our bedroom: I get that blessed hour of sleep and enjoy a nutty dream where my mom is pulling hair out of mouth that keeps coming and coming as my family looks on in horror and I try to defend myself, “I swear! I don’t eat hair!” Unless I’m doing it in my sleep?

In the living room: Frances reads books with Liam, enjoys a bowl of Cheerios, climbs on Liam on the couch, cries a lot, and gets a diaper changed.

5:12 a.m. I wake up to the sound of Frances screaming “Noooooo!” and decide to go and get her from the living room.

5:13 a.m. I see Liam almost asleep at one end of the couch, and Frances losing her shit at the other end. I scoop Frances up and tell her as politely as I can that she’s going to sleep, or else.

5:14 a.m. until 5:24 a.m. I nurse Frances and she falls peacefully to sleep. Good little girl.

5:25 a.m. until 5:45 a.m. I roll over to face Nora. She, of course, is in our bed now too. Liam is still on the couch. Nora proceeds, after sleeping soundly all night long, to cough in my face, the really phleghmy, spraying kind, for twenty straight minutes. However, she remains asleep.

5:46 a.m. I turn away, back to face Frances.

5:47 a.m. until 5:59 a.m. Frances is awake again, tossing and turning and moaning “Noooooo…” This is starting to get really fucking old, I think to myself. Maybe I should run away to Mexico.

6:00 a.m. My alarm goes off and I hit snooze.

6:01 a.m. Frances decides to fall asleep again.

6:09 a.m. I turn off the second alarm and ever-so-carefully weasel my way out from under the covers without disturbing the girls who so desperately need more sleep. I march grumpily off to the shower, while Liam sleeps peacefully on the couch. The girls are passed out in our bed. Surely there is something wrong with this picture.


The scene in our bed this morning. Queens of the Roost.

The only bright spot: The girls were in bed tonight, sleeping by 7:15 p.m. Fingers crossed things go better for us tonight!


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