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Sleep interrupted

standard October 29, 2009 4 responses

It’s early, really early. The birds haven’t even started up their daily cacophony outside our window. I’m sleeping the really deep sleep of someone who went to bed way too late and knows that she has to sleep hard because she isn’t going to sleep long.

Little L’s cry roused me partially and I listened out to see if she was just crying out in her sleep. She cried out again and coughed. I listened more closely. She coughed again, harder, and I dragged myself out of bed. I’m still sleepy and I keep my eyes at half mast. If I can get through this interruption without waking up all the way it’ll be that much easier to slide right back into sleep.

Once in the girls’ darkened room I make my way to Little L’s crib where I find her sitting up, looking confused. I hand her a sippy cup of water which she grabs. She gulps at the water and holds the cup out vaguely in my direction. Her head is drooping; she’s as awake as I am.

“Hey babe, let me change your diaper, then you can go back to sleep,” I murmur. She nods sleepily and lies down without complaint. I quickly change her and zip her back up. Long before I’m done her eyes slide shut, and she barely notices when I tuck her blanket snuggly around her.

“Sleep tight,” I whisper as I tiptoe back to the door. I’m still drowsy, another moment and I’ll be back in bed.

“Mama?” Her sleepy voice calls from the crib. I pause, holding my breath. If I stay up much longer I won’t be able to go back to sleep.

“Yes, babe?”

“Mama, I wuv you.”

I smile and slip out of her room. I rarely get to sleep through the night, but sometimes there’s more to life than sleep.

Happy Love Thursday everyone. May your nights always be filled with love.

Flesh and blood beats paper any day

standard October 16, 2009 5 responses

I read the first Diana Gabaldon Outlander series book long before I knew the series was popular. In fact it was so long ago it might even have been before they were popular. I don’t know. I didn’t care. All that I cared about was that I had found the perfect man.

He was tough and tender. He was buff and good looking. He was smart and literate, but spoke with a sexy accent. He was exactly the kind of guy I dreamed would swoop in and take me away, making me feel petite and safe all at the same time.

That he was nothing more than a character in a book was completely and utterly besides the point.

A million years or so later I have just started reading the 7th volume in the series, An Echo in the Bone. I was so excited to get this book. Not just because I was going to finally find out the continuation of the story, but because I was going to get to be reunited with my beloved Jamie again.

Oh, Jamie.

But 100 or so pages in I realized that he just wasn’t making my heart throb quite as much any more. Was it that he had aged? Was it that I had aged? I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

A gentle snore pulled me out of my contemplation and back into my bedroom. I glanced down at M sleeping soundly besides me and I smiled.

Jamie doesn’t make my heart race any more because someone else does. I don’t need to fantasize over the perfect man, I’ve found him.

He may not be Scottish and covered in scars. He might never have fought wars in the Highlands or been a pioneer in 18th Century America. But he’s tough and tender, he’s definitely buff and good looking, and even though he doesn’t speak in a sexy Scottish accent, he’s unquestioningly smart and literate. And he’s so much more than that in every way possible.

Who needs a two dimensional dream man when a flesh and blood three dimensional one shares your bed and your life?

Happy Love Thursday everyone.

The love in the words… on the picture

standard August 6, 2009 7 responses

When I woke up last Tuesday with a fever I thought I was in some serious trouble. On any other given day it wouldn’t have been a problem. M would have dressed the girls and taken them to daycare leaving me alone at home to nurse my cold. I would have probably slept all day, waking just about when they walked back in the door at the end of the day.

But no. Not last Tuesday. See, last week our daycare was closed. They close all of two weeks a year. One in the summer and one in the winter. And just my luck, I chose to get sick the week the girls had nowhere to go.

I waved M off to work and dragged myself out of bed, blearily looking at the clock to see how soon I could put them down for a nap. Unfortunately 4 and 2 year-olds don’t nap at 9:30am. I had a ways to go. My head was pounding. I was shaking from the chills. My nose was stuffed up and running at the same time. And I had absolutely nothing planned to entertain my hopeful children. I wanted to go back to bed. They wanted to play. With me.

We got through the morning unscathed. Not that I remember what we did, but I also can’t remember much fighting or crying so it must have gone well. I’m even pretty sure that I didn’t pass out on the couch. But it’s not impossible that lunch was served on the very early side and that nap time also came early that day.

As soon as their light was shut off and their door was closed I gratefully slid back into my own bed, closing my eyes long before my head hit the pillow. I figured that with any luck I’d maybe two hours to sleep before I had to get back up and play more games. Imagine my surprise when I heard the door to the girls’ room squeak open barely 45 minutes after I closed my eyes.

I squinted at the sheepish little figure standing in the doorway and made a hasty calculation. If I let her lie in bed with me maybe I’d get another 10/15 minutes of sleep. Three minutes of massive wiggling and giggling later and I made another calculation. At the ripe old age of 4 C was more than able to entertain herself quietly while mommy napped a bit. She hastily agreed and hopped out of bed.

She didn’t make a sound from the other room and I gratefully slid back into sleep.

I was woken up a while later by an odd and somewhat startling crinkling sound coming from the side of my bed. I lifted my head and looked around wildly. C stared at me, frozen in place, horrified that she had woken me up.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Nothing. Just bringing you this.” She whispered back, pointing to something on my nightstand.

I mumbled a thank you and sent her back to the other room. Little L still wasn’t stirring and I was desperate for a few more minutes of sleep. She tiptoed back out and I put my head back down.

When Little L finally woke up a bit later I dragged myself back out of bed, but before I went to get her out of her crib I took a look at what C had left for me.

It was a picture. Or rather a note. Her very first written sentence.

Don’t see the note? Look closer:
She even wrote “mom” with a birdie in the middle. Best medicine I got all day. It gave me the strength to play with them until their daddy came home from work and I was able to head back to bed.

Happy Love Thursday everyone. May all your love notes have birdies and toothy grins in them.

Love is in the air on the window

standard January 23, 2009 4 responses

“Daddy! Daddy! Mommy is going to take a picture of my Foofa!”

Oh, come now, don’t look as shocked as M. No dirty pictures were planned, promise! C, Little L, and I decorated our (rather dirty) windows in preparation for Valentines Day and in protest of all the holiday decorations coming down. The result was something C was so proud of that she wanted me to capture it on film, so she could show it to her friends, not that it’s necessary because apparently all her friends from daycare are going to follow us home to see. They have to follow us, because their parents don’t know the way. Oh, and also, we’re going to have rice. Hot rice for some and cool rice for others. And one of her friends is going to spend the night. But I digress. Let me get back to the topic at hand – our V-Day/beat the winter blahs decorations.

Little L put up lots of preety preeties.

And C put up Foofa and Brobee*, the love birds.
Happy Love Thursday everyone.
Hope something in your home makes you smile
and feel the love every time you pass it.

*Foofa and Brobee are named after two Yo Gaba Gaba characters, in case those of you who are fortunate enough not to know were wondering.

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