I really really need you to stop doing this. Sleep. In your own bed. All night.
Please. Come get me if you are sick or scared, of course, but this constant and almost nightly routine of ups and downs is making me as crazy as a... well see... there you go- I can't even think of a good simile and I rock at similes. This has to stop.
Not only is your mood and over-all health better when you do- but MY mood and overall health is better as well. A fact that is easily as important as any other in terms of maintaining your well-being. It's nearly 3 AM as I write to you and that does not bode well for our morning interactions. Which begin in 2 1/2 hours according to this strange internal clock you seem to have inherited from my mother.
Let me explain what the night looks like on my end and hopefully you'll understand just how serious I am about this. Tonight, for example, I go to bed at 10 after checking on you and your brother and kissing your sweet sleep-pinked cheeks and after a normal toss and turn, fall asleep. Until 11. When you come down the first time. Out of bed I go, take your hand, you don't need anything, silently reaching up for my hand as I offer it and peacefully walking back up to your room and climbing into your bed. I try to fall asleep again. Just about do when...Midnight... I hear little footfalls again and ... voices? Two voices? You've gotten your brother up with you?? HOW did you get him out of his crib and down the stairs without me hearing any of that process on the monitor which hisses even his most innocent sleep sounds at me all night long?? Out of bed, take both your hands, littlest starts to cry about doing bedtime again, you don't understand why I'm cross, I'm worried now (on top of cross and tired) about the whole silent crib escape thing, what else do I not hear at night? Everyone back in bed. Take 3. I can't sleep. I hear thumping. Is it the dog? Another crib-break? My imagination? So tired, can't imagine getting out of bed if I don't Have to. Yet. I can't sleep because now I hear all kinds of sounds that could mean all kinds of danger for my nightowl children. Is someone in the house? Is it the fireplace? Your rooms are right above the fireplace... better check. UP AGAIN. Peer up the stairs, it's dark and quiet. You're both finally sleeping and I'm being foolish. Best not to turn the light on and risk waking you up. Back to bed, what's left of it anyway as each time I get up your father takes over more and more space in our bed leaving me to balance precariously on the edge while fighting mother-worry inspired insomnia and -- WHAT IS THAT THUMPING?? Is it mice? Oh no, are you really both out of bed and now sleeping on the floor being crawled on by mice?! I should have turned the light on, I should have checked, up and off I go. (Do you see how sleep-deprivation does dreadful things to my imagination?) Lights on, climb stairs, see two sleep-pinked faces safely in bed and resting my hand on your backs I feel you breathe. Everyone's fine.
No room at all now left in my bed so I'm in the guest room next to your room writing you a letter past the middle of the night and hoping for at least an hour of sleep but fear it will be yet another night of dozing a scant smattering of minutes before facing the demands of another very demanding day.
I want to be better at taking care of you than I am. I have more to give you than you're likely to get over breakfast this morning. Please sweetheart, let. me. sleep.
I love you very much, and at all times.
me
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