Five minutes to midnight. On a Sunday night. You can find me rocking back and forth in the girls bedroom. And patting and shushing my 11 month old pumpkin who has temporarily forgotten the importance of sleep.
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These nights are few and far between these days, so I’m very grateful that mostly when she goes to bed she’s out for the night. But I think we have teeth on the way, so any routine we are currently in is likely to go out the window.
This little girl is one stubborn baby. And to be honest now that I think about it, it’s pretty consistent behaviour for her. Just like the hunger strike she went on when we introduced the bottle. I think she takes after her dad here. A reluctance to give in.
She’s been awake for nearly two hours now, nappy changed, bottle fed, just does not want to sleep. So I’m patting. And I’m rocking. And I’m shushing. And I’m thinking about the fact that life won’t be like this forever. She won’t always need me to comfort her. She won’t always be small enough to fit in my arms. So as much as I would one hundred times rather be lying in my own bed right now, I’ll just accept this moment for what it is. Part and parcel of parenting as my Dad would say.
This is quite unlike me I must say. Normally crazy Mum comes out after 10pm and stresses about lack of sleep on a work/daycare night. I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow if we have a repeat night though. Only so much peacefulness in this Mumma before the jar has to be refilled.
But tonight I’ll just keep rocking back and forth. And patting. And shushing. Until her breathing finally gets heavier, her eyelids drop, her da-da-da talk stops and she drifts off to sleep.
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