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.

It was THAT kind of day.

Nothing a swig from a freshness-sealed (meaning she didn't actually get a drop) bottle of almond extract couldn't fix, apparently.

Real Pretend.

Today we played our first real pretend game. Oxymoron alert? Regardless, it was hilarious...the first 17 times. I busted out the Easter decorations on March 18th, realizing that I didn't have much time before Easter was actually upon us. So out came the eggs and we haven't stopped playing with them since.

She decided she wanted to be Little Red Riding Hood and deliver eggs and cookies to Grandma: Me. (Love hearing her beckon to me as Grandma, by the way. :|) She put all the eggs in a basket and started to skip around the living room, swinging her basket and singing "la, la, la" over and over until she dumped them out and they were strewn across the living room. 

She'd proclaim, "Oh no! My eggs!" or "My cookies!" depending on her mood. She'd look to me and say "Grandma, help me please?" So Grandma would pat her on the back and say, "Don't worry. I'll fix it."

Then roles were reversed and I was required to be Red Riding Hood. There was nothing sweeter than Teagan dropping to her knees beside me, rubbing my back and reassuring me with, "Don't worry. I fix it." So sweet and so exhausting. Neither of us was allowed to break character until Teagan decided we were finished playing, which seemed to take hours. She's nothing if not committed.

The 1%

When she's not drinking them, licking them, spilling them or outright dumping them we have a really good time with bubbles when the weather is as nice as it has been. So, 1% of the time we have a ball.

A Prayer for the Books

Growing up, my Dad was incredibly tolerant and supportive of us all belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. From coming on special occasions to hear us sing, to taking the bus so my Mum could teach Seminary and drive the kids to school, he's been wonderful. 

In exchange for all of his support, he really only ever asked one thing: that blessings on the food be kept brief. Reasonable, right? 

Well today Teagan made her G-Pop proud. I give you, The World's Shortest Blessing:

"Heavenly Father. Amen."

Let's eat.

The End of an Era. A well-rested, sleep-filled era.

Sunday, March 3rd, 2013. I'll remember it always. As the day the music died. Just replace 'music' with 'sleep'. I recognize that we've had a good run - at nearly 2 1/2 years, much longer than most - but I believe I'm still entitled to mourn the loss of any future rest and relaxation we may have enjoyed.

Our friends Mark & Kaylinn were passing through and on Sunday morning asked us if Teagan was watching TV upstairs in the loft. We both laughed and said, "No, she's asleep in her crib." But I went upstairs to see if the TV had come on by mistake (it's old.) Sure enough, my baby was sitting on the couch, watching a movie she'd put on for herself. I choked back tears.

It was at that moment that I knew I'd never get a full night's sleep again. She spoiled us and has been a champion sleeper since the first few weeks. The haggered trips up the stairs that followed constituted what I felt was one of my first acts of actual parenting - meaning more than meeting a need like feeding or a diaper change - real, lesson-teaching, (relatively) cool-under-pressure, trying-to-do-what's-best-for-her parenting. It's a scary prospect. I guess the first 2 years eased me in and now comes the hard part. I've prayed for more patience and have been blessed with it and the ability to speak to her civilly and kindly...to a point. After the 10th time we put her back to bed, admittedly, my patience wears a little thin.

We grinned and bore it for several days and then it occurred to us that she could get out of her crib, but most likely not back in so we thought we'd give her the option of falling asleep on a surface other than the floor. (Turns out she can get back in as I found out the hard way on one of my hundreds of visits.) We wanted to make it exciting for her, so we rearranged her room and set it up before naptime and told her we had a surprise for her. She was surprised all right.

I'd love to tell you that her enthusiasm stuck and consequently she was happy to sleep in her new bed, but that would be an outright lie. In truth, she didn't exactly nap. In any sense of the word. Bless Brandon's heart, he put her to bed last night while I called on our neighbours to borrow something and he said after laying down with her for a few minutes, she fell fast asleep. He may be doing it on his own more often than not, considering the fact that it's taken me over an hour to type this between trips up the stairs. {sigh}

Time for The Talk.

Okay, maybe not THE Talk, but A Talk. About what toys are and aren't capable of doing. 

One of her sippy cups had gone missing and I didn't think much of it and grabbed a new one. A couple of days later, I was cleaning up her room and came across it in the first place I should have looked (but didn't.) "Yucky" said Teagan, and boy was she right. A for effort. G for gross.