I spent a few hours tracing paper bears so the kids could have their own Build-a-Bear experience during the party. While I was working, Sophie woke up. My sweet girl who used to sleep through the night now wakes up two or three times. Last night she woke up much earlier than usual. Bryan went upstairs to hold her so I could keep working.
I printed and cut and gathered. Finally, I was almost ready; all I had left to do was cutout the bears and staple them together, leaving the top open so the kids could stuff them with cotton balls. I paused my progress to check on Bryan and Sophie. Both were asleep, though Sophie was fitful. As soon as I picked her up to put her in her bed (Bryan had been holding her), she woke up crying. I nursed her and finally she went back to sleep.
At this point it was just after midnight. With Bryan's help we cutout thirty paper teddy bears. I sent him off to sleep while I stapled them together. I fell into bed at 2:13. I figured I could get five hours of sleep, which would be enough to get me through the party and home for a nap before the boys arrived home from school.
At 3:00 Sophie woke up to eat, about an hour and a half earlier than usual. I fed her and put her back in her bed.
At 4:30 she woke up again, crying this time. Exhausted, I wearily slid myself out of bed to see what she needed. That's when I found why she had been fitful, why she had woken so much to eat, why she was crying. Our poor baby was covered in vomit.
I was suddenly awake, and, after I cried out in surprise at my discovery, so was Bryan. He and I worked quickly to clean her up and change her bedding. I held her for the next hour and finally had to put her back in her bed because I had no more strength and was desperate for rest.
At this point I had had two hours of sleep and was looking at the possibility of maybe another hour and a half. That simply wasn't enough to do anything, let alone drive to the party and muster the energy needed to lead twelve small children in lively activities for two hours. And I was concerned that Sophie might be contagious. I debated canceling, or at least rescheduling, the party. I decided to sleep a little more and see if that helped.
That's about the time that Phoebe came in saying she was thirsty and wanted to snuggle. She got her water and used the bathroom (the prerequisite to sleeping in mom and dad's bed) and climbed in next to me. Then she wiggled. And she adjusted. And she asked for more of the pillow. And more blanket. Bryan told her if she moved or talked again she would have to sleep in her own bed. She quieted down, but I woke a few more times before Bryan's alarm sounded at 6:30, alerting us to the start of the day.
It's hard to begin one day when you never really got to conclude the one that came before it.
I was still on the fence about the party. Then Phoebe started talking about how much her tummy hurt. That did it. I sent emails and texts and made phone calls to let the other parents know that we were changing the date. They were all sweet and thanked us for not sharing our germs.
I was going to wear my pajamas to the hibernation party. I ended up staying in my pajamas all day anyway, wishing I could hibernate rather than teach about it. Bryan worked from home, in part to help and in part because he was running on a sleep deficit as well. My decision to postpone the party proved to be a good one and we all had a low-key, mild-foods kind of day. I napped whenever Sophie did. Phoebe got to binge-watch Strawberry Shortcake and Care Bears during the morning nap and emptied the contents of her drawers onto her floor to make a pile/nest for her quiet time activity during the afternoon nap. We continued to take care of sick tummies throughout the day, but by dinner most of the rumbling had calmed.
And now, all I want to do is read and slumber.
Goodnight. Here's hoping that everybody sleeps. And that no one throws up.
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