How does she know? Seriously, can she smell me across the house?
I come in from work after a less-than-stellar day and David is looking blissful. The kids are quiet. Robbie's still awake, but mellowed out and quiet. Charlotte's actually sleeping.
And then she wasn't.
I'd gone in to snuggle Robbie for a minute and it's like she knew she wasn't getting equal treatment. The wailing began. I went in to soothe her a bit, she nodded back off. And then I put her down. And she wailed some more. I tried to soothe her w/o picking her up. Not happening. I got to the point I was literally leaned over the cosleeper nursing her hoping she'd nod off while already laying down and then we'd be golden. No luck.
Finally something in me snapped and I walked out. She was wailing that super sad cry, but I couldn't take it. David got what I call the oh-shit-eyes. He could see I was over the line. I started ranting about how I'd just love for one of my kids to JUST. FUCKING. SLEEP. How I'd LOVE to have a warm meal. He quietly asks if he should go rock her. My very reasoned reply was "I don't fucking care. I'm going to eat my cold dinner now." Sign me up for mother of the year.
He did rock her. She still didn't sleep, but at least I got to eat my cold meal. And then I took back over again. I nursed her a little more, she slept. It was that half sleep where she'd open her eyes just a crack just to make sure I hadn't dared to actually put her down. I watched her sleep a little bit. I kissed her cheeks and stroked her crazy red hair. I wondered how I could ever be so frustrated while such a little treasure. She sighed and snuggled against me. I pressed my cheek to hers and inhaled her scent. I love her so much.
Eventually I was able to sneak out of my bed and fold a load of laundry. And eventually even put her in her own bed. She woke again and nursed a little more, but went back to her own bed w/o too much fuss this time.
I wish I knew that right thing to do. I need her to sleep. I need to sleep. But I also know these moments are fleeting. Some day I'll sit in a mostly empty house and wish I had a baby to press my cheek against. I really do treasure these days. But crap, I'm tired.