Just Writing

He is gone this week.  I always hate when he travels. Dishes, laundry, discipline, bedtime, school drop off, dinner, clean up, baths, trash...every thing falls on me.

He does so much.  I know and appreciate it when he is here.  When he is gone it is just so much more.

Bedtime was a battle last night. It always seems to be when I am doing it solo.  The balancing act of getting the baby and the 3 year old to bed at the same time.  I brush her teeth and read her stories while he gnaws at my shoulder and screams in my ear.

I tuck her in and assure her she doesn't have to sleep yet, just read some books in bed and I will come sing to you in a bit.  He is still screaming in my ear.

The big ones know what to do. Read some books, brush your teeth and Mama will tuck you in in a bit.

He fights going to sleep tonight. It is as if he has had just too much and his brain won't stop, he can't settle down. I know that feeling all too well.

We rock and sing. I hear the children playing and laughing. This irritates me because it means they are not settling down for the night and I have so much to do.  Cookies to make, dishes to wash, laundry to fold, and I still haven't showered for the day yet.

He finally succumbs to sleep and with the help of the heating pad warming his bed, I lay him down to slumber.  I pray it is for more than 3 hours.  Please give me 3 hours. Please.

The other 3 children are giggling and laughing and jumping on the bed. I break. I yell. They cry. I feel awful.  But I am so tired. Can't they see that?  Why can't they see how tired I am?  Oh yes, it is because they are 7, 5 and 3. They can't see past the end of their noses. I understand. I remember.

We snuggle, I sing. They snack, and finally sleep.

I go to make the cookies and I am out of sugar.  The baby wakes up.  It has been an hour and a half.  I sigh, pick him up, slip into bed and nurse him back to sleep.  I can make cookies tomorrow.  I can clean the kitchen tomorrow.

It is as if he knows I am in for a long night and need to rest now.  Maybe he knew his sister would be up all night with a tummy ache.  Maybe he knew I would sleep on pins and needles all night just waiting for the vomit to cover my bed.  Maybe he knew that, or maybe he just wanted to nurse.

Linking up with Heather and Just Write.