Monday, June 18, 2012

Night Story




Georgie's sweet baby face blinks and yawns in the morning light that seeps through the blinds. She's been whimpering and tossing all night long, while Keith and I tried to decode her odd symptoms. One hot red cheek. General malaise. Teething? Ear infection? It's a midnight mystery.

Early-hours dosing with Nurofen. Sleepy, chilly kitchen minutes spent emptying the medicine basket looking for a damn dropper. Each parent holding down one arm as she fitfully thrashes between us. Turns stroking and checking her hot little head. Dad holding her perched on his shoulder for one long hour. Mum propped up against the windowsill for another. We mumble updates to each other.

Dummy search and replace.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Meanwhile, one big kid wets their bed. Another has a nightmare.

We walk the halls.

The hours tick on.

Keith has a healing scab on his forehead from days earlier when a the sounds of a screaming nightmare from down the hall sent him flying out of bed and into a wall.

In the morning, all three awake, cheerful and chirpy as baby birds, clamouring for breakfast. Keith and I rub the grit from our eyes, and stretch our aching bones. The night slips away and the day begins.

15 comments:

  1. that is so beautifully written. how is it that the small ones can function so easily after a night like that? :)sarah

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    1. One of the great mysteries. I think it energises them actually.

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  2. A perfect encapsulation of *those* nights. I often wonder how I make it through the following day's work (*those* nights always seem to be timed to precede my work days), but what choice do we have?!
    Love that picture of you and Georgette!

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    1. Thanks KK. IT's true that in the eaerly hours the night seems endless, but then the sun rises, I drink a schooner of strong coffee, and it fades away...

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    1. Thanks Cath. Now go and lie down please.

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  4. Oh yes, the only thing longer than those nights are the days that follow!

    ZZZZZZZ's to you.

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  5. And this is when the parenting fairy should arrive with a parenting award, a cup of tea and a bucket of sleep credits.

    All the best.

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    1. In the interim I'll run with a bucket of coffee Christina...

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  6. Great post. Brought back many memories. Here's to a full night's sleep heading your way soon.

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  7. Yes. Know that one. I've learned an interesting thing about myself that I didn't know prior to having a baby. That after several hours of such late night carry on, a switch flicks in my head and I start a kind of helpless giggling. It's borne out of an exhaustion I didn't know existed and I think it's just a hair's breadth away from incomprehensible blubbering. However, I'm very glad my brain chooses giggling. Giggling that is, not cackling. Hope you catch up sleep soon.

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  8. Oh my god, the way they spring out of bed like they've had 15 hours?! How dare they. Really, how dare they! Sending you lots of positive energy for some super sleep filled nights. Kellie xx

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  9. Oh Mama M, this was like poetry. And to turn THAT kind of night into THIS kind of poetry? Swoonable in the extreme.

    xxx

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.