August 5, 2009 by skwishface
Last night was effing miserable.
I had the beginnings of a migraine, so I put The Girl to bed and did my best to pass out around 9:30pm. Two hours later, The Husband came to bed, but couldn’t get to sleep right away, so he turned on a lamp to read for a bit. Which woke up The Girl, who decided she was starving.
In retrospect, I realize that I could have probably asked The Husband to feed her, since he was awake, but I was on autopilot and he knows better than to intercept me when I’m in that mode. You know how the common wisdom is to never awake a sleepwalker, because they could hurt themselves? It’s like that, but with more helpless, confused sobbing.
So The Girl finishes her bottle around midnight, and we all go back to bed.
Then at 2am, The Husband’s sinuses tried to strangle him in his sleep.
Did you know that it’s possible to sneeze in your sleep? Did you also know that it is possible for your subconscious brain to hear your bed partner winding up to sneeze, do a quick calculation of the angles and trajectories involved in relation to said sneeze and your own face, and wildly fling your body out of the path of inevitable snot spray, all without ever actually waking you up? True fact.
I woke up in mid-flight. My conscious brain wallowed in the warm taffy of REM sleep and looked blearily at the world, demanding explanations by sort of grunting and scowling at reality. My subconscious brain patted my conscious brain on the head and told it to hush up and go back to sleep, nothing to see here, now stop bothering me while I try to stick the landing.
The landing ended with me half-on-half-off the bed, so the subconscious brain heaved a sigh and hit the Wake-Up Sequence button. A similar process was happening on The Husband’s side of the bed, with alot of snorting and groaning and cussing and stomping and blowing of the nose. All of which awoke The Girl yet again.
Ten minutes later, we’re all on the bed. The Husband breathing through his mouth and wishing death upon his endlessly fluid nose. The Girl guzzling down a bottle. Me with one eye open, cradling The Girl and idly contemplating the fact that a good night’s sleep is apparently off my menu for good. The Husband and I murmured back and forth, commiserating on our miseries. Then I noticed that The Girl had stopped drinking from her bottle. Great, I thought, she’s still got half a bottle to go and now she’s gonna be a diva about it.
Grumpy as hell, I looked down at her. And saw that the reason she wasn’t drinking was … she was too busy smiling at us.
Bright little eyes glancing back and forth between The Husband and me, delighted smile, as if to say “Gee, I like you guys! We should hang out like this more often!”
We just had to laugh. Damn baby, cheering us up a little, taking the edge off some pretty spectacular grouching.
She was so happy to party with us, she wanted to do it all again at 4am. Sigh.