Sweet somethings

[First off, thank you to all of you who responded to my whiny-ass post. I am still on the fence (who, ME??), but I feel like I'm not off-base on my feelings. I *know* that I am a good friend, that I am loyal and kind; I just have to let go of those who don't give me any part of themselves. I am blessed to have a couple of wonderfully kind and loyal friends, as well as a good set of online friends that support me and care for me. What more can I ask for, right?]
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My girl has had a horrendous cough & stuffy nose for almost a week. There's no infection, no fever, no green snot, etc., so we've been doing the rounds: breathing treatment, Delsym cough syrup, humidifier, Vicks on the neck & under the nose, tylenol, rinse & repeat.
We've also been doing very little sleep all week.
She goes to bed okay, other than the fact that she can't get used to her bedroom being upstairs. She hears noises, she sees things out her window, she's scared. She now sleeps with the classical station on, to help with that. And 3 night lights. And a flashlight. And a teeny angel on her night stand. 

Right about my bedtime, she wakes up: "Mommy.....mommy....mommmmmmyyyyyyyy!"
I groan. I shuffle through the house, up the stairs.

"Mommy, can you sleep with me until the morning?"

I climb into bed (thank goodness we finally got her a full sized bed! I couldn't do this sleeping-on-the-floor-next-to-her-toddler-bed crap anymore!). She coughs, sighs, and smiles.

"Mommy, can we close our eyes now?"

I close my eyes, only to open them 4 seconds later, watching her sink into her pillow with a smile on her face. She lets me fix the covers around her, move her hair out of her face, and cuddle her. She moves closer to me.

I watch her for a few minutes before I crash. She's getting so big. She's tall and lean and only looks like my baby in the middle of the night, by the light of her nightlights.

I'm asleep long enough for my brain to clear-I'm not dreaming yet-when my girl begins:

"I'm hungry. Can you hear my stomach? Are you sure there are no ghosts or monsters outside? Is Max in his crate? Can I turn the radio up? Is the nightlight still on in the bathroom? Mommy, I need to go potty. Can you get me some toilet paper? Can you zip up my pjs? My nose is stuffy. I can't breathe. I can hear God talking. I don't like the shadow in the corner. Want to play 20 questions? Tell me about that book you are reading again. Are you sleeping, mom? Mooommmmmmmmm!"

Fuck me.

And then she starts tossing and turning, puts her pillow at the foot of the bed, pulls the covers around, turns the fan on, tosses, turns, looks for her cup, coughs, sniffles, and asks me "Does your tooth still hurt?"

I will readily admit that I love my sleep. I don't like to be woken up in the middle of the night. Once I'm out, I just don't want to be bugged. It must have been all those years that I didn't sleep at all; I am spoiled by this good sleep now. So, it's hard for me to remain patient, although I swear I try. I answer her questions, I call her honey, I kiss her, I cuddle her, and then I begin to beg, swear, and threaten:

"Please go back to sleep. Pleeeeeeeeeease.""I will go downstairs to my own quiet bed if you don't hush up right now."

"Mother humper, cheese & rice, shut the hell up."
 
Yeah, Mother of the Year Award RIGHT HERE.
 
On the nights that I seem to find more patience, we talk about all sorts of things: our next house, my school, her starting Kindergarten in September (NOOOOOOOOoooooooo!!), her next dentist appointment, our old man dog, Max, Daisy, the relatives she loves and misses (even if she has JUST SEEN THEM), my friend Amanda's middle son, Mikey, whom she has a huge crush on and wants to marry, God, prayers, food, and babies.
 
She wants a brother or sister. Depends on her mood, but she knows she WANTS A BABY IN MY BELLY. After one of these rambling conversations, I am almost asleep the other night when I hear her groggy voice from the end of the bed (we were lying head to foot):
 
"Mommy, if you had a boy, just please promise me you WILL NOT name him Bob*."
 
I cracked up and she sat up in bed, pushing her hand in my face. Shaking her finger at me:
 
"I mean it! It's an awful name and I will NOT call him by his real name if you name him Bob."
 
Between laughs, I ask her, "What would you call him if I named him Bob?"
 
Her response: "Kid."
 
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I know this time is fleeting. Sooner than I think, she won't want me in her bedroom. Someday, she might not want to talk about random things at 4am. Someday, she won't fit comfortably in the curl of my body. Someday, we won't fit in her bed together. I have to keep this in my mind when I feel the urge to threaten her to go back to sleep. Someday, she will no longer be JUST MINE. But for now, I secretly love the sweet somethings coming out of her mouth as we share her bedsheets.
 

 

 

 

 

*My brother calls everyone Bob due to my mom finding a little dog named Bob that she wanted to adopt. So now, any time my girl asks me someone's name (even people driving down the road that I have no.way.of.knowing, I tell her "Bob". It drives her crazy.*