I used to have the most enviable night life of any new mother I knew. When Brooke was two weeks old, she began to sleep through the night. I would put her to bed at 9 pm and she would sleep soundly till at least 3:30 am. Sometimes she would make it till 5. I was getting a full night's sleep every night and could not fathom why everyone said two children was sooo much harder than one. Don't get me wrong, it was a lot of work, but I had not become the deranged lunatic I remember being in Charli's first few months. And then.... Brooke turned 4 months old and stopped sleeping. I went from getting 5 to 7 straight hours of sleep to not getting more than two hours in a row. Some nights, I get to see each and every hour on the clock. Ahhhhh, there is the homicidal maniac I remember being. It is amazing how much sleep affects my ability to cope with, well, everything. I find myself yelling, and apologizing, much more to Charli these days. I get overly upset when Brooke cries and then realize that she really doesn't cry much and usually only for good reason. I also find myself standing in the midst of chaos in my house, struck impotent, with zero ability to figure out what to do. I don't seem to have the ability to remember things, or to find the words to describe things to others. I am doing a lot more pointing, grunting, and pantomiming to get my point across. The house is also getting dirtier by the day. I can only seem to get one type of cleaning thing done a day and unfortunately there more than 7 things to clean in the house. I am realizing that a small house can be a really desirable thing.
Another reason a small house is good is that now Brooke is really moving faster and is trying to get onto her hands and knees. Once she figures out how to balance on all fours we are in trouble. I am considering getting a baby cage. One of those fences that can be put up in a circle to corral my little explorer, and to keep my big explorer, or more importantly her toys, out. I am realizing that somehow, my 3 year old is equipped with enough small parts to choke 10 infants. Stickers falling from her clothing, wood chips from her shoes, rubberbands, clips, and coins. That doesn't even take her small parted toys into account. It is a wonder her sister has survived long enough to make me the sleep deprived monster I am today. Every once in a while, through the haze and delirium, I notice my girls. Really notice them. Notice how small Charlotte still is, notice how helpless Brooke still is. Notice the beautiful curves of both my girls faces. Notice Charli's high pitched voice repeating things in an angry tone that is frighteningly familiar. All of these things help me through the fog, help me break out of the self-pity and help me remember that these moments (the good and the not so great) are all fleeting. That these girls are only this old for the blink of an eye and that I need to savor the moments. Also, I remember that no matter how sleep starved I am, that I am still the adult in the house and that these girls are looking to me to understand the world and how to act. I continue on my journey of parenthood and my daughters continue to teach me the way.
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