Last night my husband offered to sleep on the couch. No, he wasn't in the doghouse - he's just struggling with a cold and knows that his snoring keeps me up. I was touched he'd endure a night of not-so-comfortable slumber just so I could get some sleep, and I happily accepted.
11:30pm - Lights out.
12:15am - Sophie's awake. Feed her, put her back to bed.
2:00am - Em comes into bedroom, scared and looking for Daddy. I send her into living room.
3:00am - Em comes into bedroom again, asks to sleep with me, says she's scared. Before I can register her request enough to deny it, she's up and laying next to me, demanding more milk and the pillows from her bed.
4:00am - Sophie's awake. Go in, she's soaked through everything. Change her diaper, change her pjs. She screams bloody murder the whole time. Wakes up Em, who hears her through the sound monitor in my room. Em comes in, scared. I send her back to my bed. Feed Sophie. Put her back to bed. Go into Em. Calm her back to sleep.
6:30am - Sophie's awake. No back to bed this time - must start our day.
I probably sound like I'm documenting this for sympathy, but actually I realize how lucky I am b/c a night like the above is rare in our house and I know others that deal with it on a much more regular basis. Mostly I just want a record of last night for myself so that in the future, when I have two teenage girls who desperately need their "beauty sleep," I can recreate this night for them and use this blog as a guideline to remind me how often to go in and wake them up.
I really, really look forward to that day.
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