Midnight Theatrics

I love nothing more than to hold my baby in the middle of the night and listen to her slow, steady breathing.

That was a bold faced lie. But it does have its moments.

Teagan's had trouble sleeping through the night since she made the "transition" to her big girl bed. Generally all she needs is a good snuggle with one of us (depending on how tired she is, she'll allow Brandon the pleasure, but usually she prefers Mummy) and she's back to sleep. Sometimes she just gets a kick out of getting out of bed to see what we do. I can't tell you how creepy it's been to walk upstairs to go to bed ourselves and see her sitting at the top of the stairs like a tiny zombie.

I've tried to maintain a positive outlook in the face of my lack of sleep and remind myself that she'll only be little for a while longer and she'll no longer want to snuggle with me on her lap...nor will I be physically capable of holding her - it's laughable to see these days. On more than one occasion I've been overcome with love and emotion and found myself with tears trickling down my cheeks.

No matter what kind of a day we've had (and lately, we've been skipping naps in favour of bedtime going smoothly so the days are L-O-N-G) when I watch her sleep, I can't help but see her as the daughter of God she is - I'm afraid I don't find myself seeing her that way 100% of the time. It's been a great refresher, to see her in that light every night (and sometimes multiple times a night) and helps me practice more patience with her while she's awake. I'm a little nervous to take photos of her when she's sleeping these days - not worth the risk - but I compiled a bunch of photos of her sleeping in hopes that I can preserve at least a little of the feelings I'm experiencing lately.

I keep thinking about a poem I read about cherishing childhood, so much so that I found a cute print online and framed it next to the rocking chair in Teagan's room. It reminds me to obsess less about having a clean house and concern myself more with enjoying my child's formative years.

Mother, O Mother, come shake our your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.

Hang out the washing, make up the bed,

Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking. 

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,

Pat-a-cake, darling and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,

And out in the yard there's a hillabaloo.

But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~Ruth Hubert Hamilton

We had a particularly heartwarming moment a while ago and I had to record it. I was rocking her to sleep, just admiring how beautiful she is (particularly when her eyes are closed) and thought it had been long enough that she was fast asleep. Seconds before I had planned to get up and put her back into bed, she smiled and sighed "Happy" with her beautiful blue eyes still closed tightly. My heart leaped. I was overcome with a feeling of peace and happiness that my daughter felt happy. A single tear began to roll its way down my cheek and then her eyes popped open, she pouted her gigantic lips and said "Sad." Then began to rotate between "Happy" and "Sad" while I mentally kicked myself. She was merely practicing her emotions. Like I said: heartwarming.

But while she's still little enough to want to snuggle I will snuggle the wee hours away, with her mile-long legs dangling over the edge of the chair.