I'm not sleeping anyway...

It’s the sort of thing that I am afraid to say out loud, fearing that I will jinx the progress we’ve made somehow. It’s the baby. She’s been sleeping through the night…four nights in a row now. I know, 4 nights out of 18 long months of not sleeping is not exactly progress. I know. But God, she is finally sleeping. And it’s nice. Every morning I wake up surprised because she hasn’t been up screaming at some random hour. I’ve heard her whine a bit a few times, usually to throw out the blanket I rudely cover her with, since she sleeps with her blankie crumpled beneath her, but she is not up and screaming for me to “meer!!”

You want to hear how this came about? It’s simple really….I just stopped going to her. I know, right?? Hub started going in, and telling her firmly that it was sleeping time. He did not pick her up, made her stay in her crib, and talked to her. And when she asked for me, he told her that I was sleeping, which seemed to bewilder her, like “Mommy sleeps?? What??” But she took it from him and laid back down and went to sleep several times over. There was one night when I went in and tried to do the same, and all hell broke loose, but when Hub came in she settled right down.

So yeah, 4 days. I’m sure now she’ll get some horrible virus that throws this all off, but I’m taking these 4 days and running.

Not that I’m sleeping anyway. It’s The Olympics; they always do this to me. I don’t even care about them, but I end up getting sucked in, and watching, and staying up way later than I should on a work night. The big kids stayed up with us last night to watch the women’s skiing, and the speed skating relay (I was just watching Apollo’s beard…I mean WTF…and why does the camera only focus on him?), and while I crept out of the house at 7:20 this morning, having been up for more than an hour already, they were still warm and snuggled in their beds. Jerks.

Bud had a TKD test last night (first stripe of his blue belt) and we brought Liv, and she was a terror. There was another baby there, just a few days older than Liv, and that baby did not stuff handfuls of Goldfish down her mother’s shirt, did not scratch her mother’s face or try to pry her mouth open to get her gum. That baby did not scream at the injustice of being corralled to one small area. That mother did not miss her son getting his award because she was removing her baby to the lobby where she could be entertained by finger painting in the steam that had accumulated on the exterior doors. That mother surely does not have sore arms from holding her baby tight to stop her from flinging herself on to the floor.

But she is sleeping, so I won’t complain.