Last night's sleep was rocky.
Nursing is the only way to soothe him. He goes back to sleep easily.
My husband and I shower at 8:30. "I shut off all the lights, so Beren will know we're in the bathroom," my husband says. I relax and let the hot water rinse my hair.
I think I hear something, so I step out of the shower. As I dry off, I hear the floor creaking and whimpering. "Momma's here, Momma's here," I say. My son stands at the door, his cries escalating to a wail. I toss on a robe and feel the flannel stick to my wet skin and become cold. We nurse again.
I begin typing and my husband prepares up a root beer soda of spikenard, spicebush, and sassafras. He stands in the kitchen doorway, shaking the Mason jars. "This is good. This is really good," he says smiling. He has interrupted my typing about a half dozen times to inquire, I know you are working, but what vessels do we have for storing the soda?, Would I like a taste?, How about another?, Would I help pour off the roots?
Beren wakes once more. We peer at our son. This time, he is smiling. "Uh, oh."
With a 6:00 bedtime, so much is possible, but in our home early bedtimes mean several wake ups before parents' bedtime. And then, through the night, we play musical beds. My son up from the floor into our bed until his kicking legs wake and irritate me. I move to the floor. My son comes down to the floor to find me. He kicks and nurses.
At 4:00AM my husband checks the time. "It's not even close to morning," he says.
I try rocking, nursing, singing, talking softly. Beren chatters quietly and stays somewhat still.
"I need you to take a turn with Beren, so I can sleep," I say. My husband is silent for only a moment. "OK," he says.
They turn on a light and open the toy box. I drag three sleeping bags, two nylon and one tattered cotton one, our son's humble bed, onto the other side of house. I lie back down. I sleep until my husband steps over me. "I have to get my work clothes. Sorry." My eyes close.
Details, details. Tangents, tangents. I have my husband to thank for this morning's pleasant play with our son. Without the extra couple hours of sleep, I would have been grumpy. I'd be asleep on the couch and my husband here at the computer. Thanks, Bubbaloo.