I’m happy to report that tonight’s post is coming to you from my regular perch on my loveseat, and not the bathroom floor.
I finally got H settled and back into bed a little after 1am. As we were creeping back into his room, I heard S crying softly in her bed. I got H tucked in with his bucket, then crawled into her top bunk with her to see what was the matter. She’d had some kind of a bad dream about bugs stinging her and was quite upset, so I laid in bed with her until she was calm and fell back asleep.
As I was laying there with her in the dark, it was so quiet that I could hear her breathing beside me. I listened as her breath changed from ragged drawing in as she wept to the calm, easy, deep breaths that told me she had fallen asleep in my arms. I was so far beyond exhausted, but I stayed there an extra minute or two trying to hold on to that moment. I feel like I blinked and she’s already six, and so much of my day is consumed with the shenanigans of P & H that I don’t get as much one on one time with her as I’d like. My life just feels so full sometimes, and in that moment, there were no other demands on my time. It was just me and her, and for the moment, that was enough to calm her troubled heart.
I finally collapsed into bed sometime around 2am. Thankfully H slept through and there were no more bug dreams for S. I don’t know whether or not to feel proud or sad that I’ve learned how to function on only four hours of sleep (Thanks, P) but we survived the day and it’s finally bedtime.
I’m so tired that I think that’s not even the right descriptor anymore… weary seems to be a better fit. I feel run down and weary to my bones, but I have the day off tomorrow and I’m hoping to catch up a bit. Fingers crossed for more than 4 hours of sleep tonight.
I’m shooting for at least 4.5.