Cinco is taking is playing fast and loose with the whole “co-sleeping” thing. She’s down with the “co” part. It’s the sleeping that she’s stretching the definition of. It doesn’t matter what time I sneak into bed, she’s wide awake and ready to play. And by play, I mean, nurse, poke eyes, pull hair, closely examine ears, and shove fingers up noses. Not unlike circuits in exercise routines, she keeps things moving. There’s no lull within which to doze off. She asks to nurse now, well if you call “na-na-na” asking. But she only ever says it if she wants something to drink. She’s quite talented. Just about the time I’m ready to thrown in the towel and deal with the tears and shrieking, she starts asking to “na-na-na.” I mean, I know that these moments are winding down, babyhood is so fleeting. And so I get guilted into allowing her to continue her shenanigans.
It’s caused challenges the last couple of nights. After two plus hours, I was done. Over it. And even the sweet little “na-na-na” didn’t move my sleepy heart. I handed her off to the father figure, who she isn’t so interested in playing with as he is capable of sleeping through nuclear war. The father figure embraced her in a bear hug and commenced snoring. Her little arms were stretched out to me and she was crying “mama”. I’m not cold hearted, mostly, so I move to the couch. I figured if she couldn’t see me, she’d remember that she was indeed exhausted and pass out. Sure enough, she became quiet within a couple of minutes. And blessed sleep began to descend. When suddenly…..SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. The sound of little bare feet on a hardwood floor. Followed by “WHAM” a high five to the face. And there was Cinco; she waited until the father figure fell back asleep, relaxing his grip and off she went. Good times.
Her shenanigans, and my endeavors with Shaun T’s T25, left me completely wiped out. So I ended up soundly asleep last night. Only to be startled awake suddenly. It was most likely the lack of hair pulling. Cinco was gone. I shook the father figure “Where’s the baby!?” He offered something unintelligible, so off I went to look for her. She was not in the kitchen, or in her toys, or upstairs. And she was being very quiet, as I couldn’t find her anywhere. I returned to our bedroom and flipped on the light “FATHER FIGURE! WHERE IS THE BABY????” He barely moved and grunted “Down there” Sure enough, at the foot of the bed, head poking out the blankets the father figure consistently dislodges, was Cinco. Her eyes were closed and the father figure complained “She’s been pulling my leg hair for a while now.” So I rescue one or both of them. I could see Cinco getting kicked in the head and a little ear prodding didn’t seem so bad when compared with the alternative, racing around a darkened house looking for a sleeping baby.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m thinking insomnia is a possibility.