now I lay her down to 'leep

Sunday, aged two and a bit, decided to drop her afternoon nap. Her sister did the same thing at that age.
I was 7 weeks pregnant at the time - can you feel my pain?

I really thought Sunday would hang on longer. She loves(d) sleeping, and was still rocking a 2 hour nap the week before she quit.

But now baby don't nap no more and that, plus the sudden onset of TWO-ness, is making our evenings a little ... strained.

Tonight I lay on her bed in the dark, totally still, totally silent. While she thrashed around the bottom of it, emitting the guttural animal shrieks of frustration and utter over-wroughtness that I so clearly remember her sister making.
I lay on her bed in the dark, holding a fluffy turtle in position with my toe so she didn't bang her head too hard against the foot of the bed, waiting for her to calm.
I lay there and wondered how other parents deal with this, as we always perpetually wonder right?

I know there's no soothing her until she's ready. Strictly no touching her until she asks for it. I know there's nothing I can do but keep that turtle in position, silently apologise to the neighbours and lie there in the dark so she knows I'm there.

And when the shrieks turn to wails, when the thrashing becomes less violent, when the hand beating my leg starts caressing it instead, then at last will come the moment when she whimpers, ''leep wif Mummy', and I can bring her up to lie next to me, head on the pillow, hand on my face, and watch as she drifts off, still sobbing a little.
Then I lie there and let a big tear of my own slide down my cheek.

It was a long day for a little girl. And a long day for this big one too.

portents & dreams

On the morning of my wedding, a fish eagle flew over my parent's house, calling and calling and wishing me well.
My most precious childhood memories, long summer holidays dirty and free on the banks of the Botriver Vlei, are always accompanied by the cry of the fish eagles which roosted there.
Weeks ago, the first time we stopped outside the house we're hoping to buy, we heard one overhead.

We bought our current house 9 years ago, from an elderly man who'd lived here for over 30 years. The house was filled with net curtains and knick-knacks, potted African Violets and lots of polished brass.
The house we're hoping to buy is owned by an elderly lady, who's lived there for over 30 years. It's currently filled with knick-knacks, many many potted African Violets, and lots of polished brass.

Today is my birthday. Driving home through the rain under gloomy skies, we saw a magnificent and bold rainbow, arcing over our car. One foot, zinging with colour, seemed to trail just behind us, and seeking out the other I found it over the lake, hovering right over the house we hope will become our next home.

Our dreams have been strange these last few weeks. Our days, filled with estate agents and banks and hopes and fears, filled with packing and sorting and tidying our home, are processed nightly through our dreams.

Husband dreams of closed doors, of boats and objects just beyond his reach.

I dream of flooded gardens, the inability to express myself. I wander through dreams in a cheap white wedding dress, sensing my partner's frustration at waiting, unfurling his palm to discover a sliver of soap I recognise from our bathroom, 'Where must I put it?' he pleads with me, 'I can't find anywhere to put it.'

This state of flux makes us restless, and tired. We hope for a quick resolution. We try to believe in the future without getting unduly excited.
We hope our portents don't become dreams, hope our dreams remain firmly in our heads.

02:59

The exact time which Sunday woke for 3 out of 5 nights last week. Strange huh?

She's a much better sleeper than she once was, but still not nearly as good as her sister was at her age, and continues to be.
Sunday and Friday go to bed at the same time 7/7.30pm. Sunday has 150ml formula, this on top of often eating an enormous supper.

But regardless of how big the supper or how busy the day she will, without fail, wake between 11-12pm for a second bottle. Another 200ml down the hatch and she's back to sleep until ...

02.59. I jump awake to an outraged yell in her too-deep-for-a-baba-baba-voice: 'MAMAA!' And then there's no peace to be had until I drag myself out of my warm and very cosy marital bed and climb into bed with her.
Most times we then peacefully (if a little cramped) sleep til morning.

I marvel at the mysteries of her body clock.
I worry about indulging a 'bad' habit by sleeping with her.
I love having her warm and snuffly sleeping alongside me.
I miss cuddling up to my husband.

But one (or two) things I know for sure - we're all getting enough sleep this way and this too shall pass.
For now I'm okay with that.

sleep much?

A few months ago my husband sent me a link to a UK Mother & Baby survey which claimed, after surveying 1000 mothers with children under two, that on average these mother's got 5 hours sleep a night.

We kind of scoffed at it, after 6 months of atrocious sleep from Sunday she was now only waking twice a night - a marked improvement - and I felt like a whole new person, energised, productive and happy.

However ... I started to take heed, counting the hours I got in between those wake-ups, averaging them out over a week or so, being honest with myself about what time I went to bed and, shockingly, I think I'm a 5-a-night kind of girl!
How is it possible I'm managing to get by on that?

Is this proof that the human body can adapt to anything? Am I slicing years off my life each time I push my strained and tired body and mind even further? Am I far under-reaching my potential as a human being, would I be doing a post grad in Chemical Engineering if I had more sleep? Would I be a nicer person?

Or am I just doing what generations of women have done before me: coping?

Sucking it up, doing my best, looking forward to a time (which will come, it must right?) when the kids get older and this aspect of parenting gets easier?
Living in the (sleepy) moment.

How much sleep are you getting?