The punk has been shouting in his sleep every single night around 4 am. So every night, I extricate myself from my prison of pillows (two for my head, one for my back, and one between my knees and under my belly) and grunt my way out of bed to stumble into his room. There I find him sideways in his bed, uncovered, so I tell him to lay his head on his pillow, cover him up, give him a kiss, go back to bed, and say a silent prayer that he will sleep until 7:00.
Why is he doing this? Is he having the same dream every night at the same time? Is he shouting because he finds himself uncomfortable and a little chilly, but not aware enough to right himself? Is he just trying to prepare his mama for the misery that is nighttime with a newborn?
Yesterday I found myself thinking about how little time I have left in my pregnancy with the little bean, and instead of being scared or wary, I finally felt jubilant. I caught myself feeling extremely excited to meet the punk's baby brother. This happy feeling was a welcome change from the status quo of the pregnancy so far. Don't get me wrong, I'm not unhappy with our decision to have a second child. But as most of you moms of multiple children know, the second pregnancy has been quite different for me, in that I have a better idea of what I've gotten myself into, and I am aware of the havoc this little bean is going to wreak in the Bell home for the first month or two of his life. So, it is a happy development that I've found myself becoming eager to meet the bean.
Then, after laying down my tired head after last night's 4 am ritual, I suddenly realized that in 5 short weeks, I will be stumbling around the house at not only 4 am, but midnight, 2 am, and 6 am every night. And not just to reposition the punk and give a quick kiss, but to stay up for 45 minutes taking care of a squirming, hungry, poopy, wrinkly bean.
So today, I am basking in the luxury of only one nocturnal interruption and bracing myself for what is to come.
Valentine Oreo truffles * finger painting * the palette