The pattern of this week is not an easy one. I finally get him to sleep in his rigged car seat/bassinet contraption (patent pending) around eleven and at one thirty he is gnawing and fussing and making my heart pound by choking briefly on snot and just generally keeping me awake with his annoyingness. We nurse until two thirty, he sleeps until three thirty; we nurse until four thirty, he sleeps until five thirty; we nurse until six or so and he starts smiling and giggling and playing with my nipple.
I kick his snoring father and blurt out something borderline abusive and frightening and incoherent like 'take baby, might kill it, am dying.' Matt gets up and takes him away, blissfully far away, out of my earshot away, and lets him coo and smile and drip snot while he drinks a pot of coffee and reads the paper. I get a precious forty-five minutes to an hour of sleep before the rest of our merry gang wake exuberant for their day.
Most mornings, Nate falls back into a dead to the world, nothing will wake me, mouth open sleep between seven and eight and I can put him pretty much anywhere for the next three hours. I have had to wake him up to go to preschool.
I mean seriously, fates? Up yours. My fourth baby likes a bit of a lie in? My fourth baby. You find that funny, don't you? I might hate you just a little bit.
When he wakes naturally, he wakes happy and then comes my very, very favorite part of my day, week, possibly life right now. He coos, or sits contentedly in his old, recalled car seat set in his bassinet and looks around. He hardly ever cries. He just waits until I eventually get to a natural pause in breakfast, or dressing or another routine morning chore and scamper up the stairs to check on him.
When I see him awake through the door, I pause because the moment when he spots me fills my heart up to the very tippy top and overflows it all over the floor. The joy runs down the stairs and splatters all over my other kids. I step into the room and he sees me and he sparkles with happiness. His whole body wags. His smile cracks his cheeks and dribbles sprinkly bits of loveliness down his chin. (Or, yes, okay, that might be drool and snot, but it looks like sprinkly bits of happiness to me and I am temporarily sleep deprived.)
It is the most affirming thing. It causes such an answering pull in my heart. My own smile cracks my cheeks, my mood soars. It's almost enough to make me forgive him for the teeth and the snot and the whole 'I'd like to play at 6:00 a.m. routine.' Almost.
Please, please, gods of sleep and quiet and sanity. The teeth: let them break the surface. The snot: make it be gone. Grant me five consecutive hours. In the meantime, I can not be held responsible for my SB chai consumption.
I'm closing my comments for most of the month of November while I participate in National Novel Writing Month and National Blog Posting Month. I can't ask you to talk to me every freaking day for thirty days. That's cruel and usual punishment. My email is always open - anymommyoutthere@gmail.com.E&E Tally: 19690 words (breath of life)
Blog posts: 27/30
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