5:30 am. There have been whining noises coming from the girls' room for an hour. At first, I thought I could move downstairs to the sofa and maybe the intermittent whining would stop, or at least stop before it made it to my ears. If a tree falls in the woods and there's no one there to hear it....
It's unclear how my husband sleeps through this. Why can't I sleep through this?
It sounded as if she couldn't get comfortable and was tossing and turning for a while. No real cries. Just noise. Just enough noise to wake me up. Just often enough to make sleep elusive. And now, it seems to have stopped. Since I've given up on sleep, that makes perfect sense.
Or, as it turns out, my child is actually awake. A voice from the baby monitor just said, "No." My thoughts exactly. Other thoughts include:
I must stop allowing her to refuse food at dinner. She's awake from hunger.
I remember when I used to go to bed around 5:30.
Did she go back to sleep?
I need more coffee.
Nope. She's still awake.
The baby monitor spoke again. "Wake up, Amelia," in her singsong voice. Which movie was it? Signs? The one with Mel Gibson and the alien invasion and they used baby monitors to listen for the sounds? Sometimes I feel like my life isn't far off from that. I just sit and wait for the monitor to make noise. Except flinging cups of water at my children won't solve the problem.
When it was abolutely clear she wasn't going back to sleep, I began to wonder if I could go up and get her without waking the younger child. Doubful, but possible. No noise from her thus far. Why is my deep sleeper awake, and my light sleeper silent in the face of all those urgent wake up demands? One last sip of coffee.
I walk slowly and quietly up the stairs. I'm careful to walk on the outside edge of each step to minimize creaking. I try not to breathe too loudly. I barely touch the door when I push it open. Must. Be. Quiet.
Virginia stands up. I hold my breath and wait for her to scream hello. She does not. I tiptoe over to her bed, my eyes on Amelia. She's face down, with her knees tucked under her, cute little butt stuck up in the air. She hears my thoughts and opens her eyes. Cuss word.
Maybe if I'm fast, she'll go right back to sleep. I grab Virginia and do a wierd tiptoe run back out of the room. I pull the door shut. She screams.
"Amelia's awake, Mom." You don't say.
We make it downstairs. I manage to find the remote and Yo Gabba Gabba without too much fussing from the girls. I keep the light off. We all sit on the sofa. Amelia is unusually snuggly. Virginia's in a good mood, and very cute in her just-woke-up hair. I think, "Aww. This isn't so bad. One day soon, I'll wish they were this small."
Virginia looks over at me and says, "I took a good nap, Mom." Nope.
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