I am a single mother for a few days. My 7-month-old daughter anticipated this by choosing the two nights prior to Nathan’s work trip to roll over in her Merlin Magic Sleep Suit, meaning she must transition out of it and is now in a sleep sack.
I’ll try it all to buy myself some sleep with two small children.
My toddler has a moon night light in his room to protect him from the dark and he earns stars for staying in bed all night.
My infant also has a noise-activated music box in her room. Because when she wails at 3:00 am, a rinky-tink version of Claire de Lune coming out of a brightly colored, battery-operated machine will soothe her back to sleep.
Both children have blackout curtains and white noise machines as well.
Considering their ages, my children sleep fine.
I’m the one who doesn’t. Perhaps I need an app on my phone that cues some Debussy as soon as it senses excessive movement during the night. Perhaps I need someone to reward ME when I successfully turn off my anxiety, let my brain shut down the thoughts, and start up the sleep cycle.
Last night, Dom earned his star, Gabbi only needed me once, but I slept like a fly. That’s right. A fly. A fly caught in a spider’s web, reacting with fear to every sound and movement. The night before was the same story.
I envy the mother who can lie down shortly after calming an infant back to sleep, closer her own eyes, and drift back into peaceful dream land with ease.
Perhaps that’s my real issue: dream land ain’t peaceful. In one of my dreams last night, a close friend of mine had gone blind.