Well, I'm going to get back into blogging after a long hiatus. Not that anyone really cares, but more for my own journaling and creative outletting sake.
I lay on the couch with my Ella in the crook of my armpit and my Porter at my feet. Exhausted from yet another night of insomnia I try and close my eyes. I even took a sleep aid last night to try and sleep better, but my Sierra came in at 5:00 am frozen with fear and sadness from a nightmare. I tell her to climb in bed. I scoot to the middle of the bed, sandwhiched between her and Jeremy. I know Jeremy needs his space , so I try and leave him his allotted space while I share my own with Sierra.
I remembered frightening nightmares as a child and knew how much it helped to be next to a fearless parent, I took compassion on Sierra. But it was definitely not helping with the insomnia. After 30 minutes of trying to get comfortable in the claustrophobic middle, I chance it and have Sierra switch places with me hoping she would still give Jeremy his space. I move to the very edge of the mattress. “Ah – that’s better,” and finally drift off to sleep.
I am awakened an hour later by a screaming Ella. In my mind I beg for more sleep, but I know it won’t happen. This is how it is every morning. I begin my morning routine of breakfast, dressing the kids, and getting Sierra off to school.
But let’s get back to the present. Now I am laying on the couch trying to close my eyes with Ella in the crook of my armpit and Porter at my feet. Porter wants me to prop up my knees so he can put a blanket over them and form a tent. Ella adjusts herself to be more comfortable and jams her elbow into my adams apple. Ouch! I get a whiff of her vomit from last night’s bout that still needs to be cleaned off her face. Apparently, I missed a spot. Then she starts to crawl on me and rams her knee into my chest. Another ouch…
Mother’s coexist every moment with their children, always aware of their every move. Keeping one eye open and the other succumbing to a rough night’s sleep. I guess a little bit like my grandpa’s stories from World War II. :)
Porter continues to build his tent. Thankfully, he has decided my legs don’t make a very sturdy structure and he moves a few feet away. Ella grabs the picture of Christ, Porter has been using it as an anchor for his tent (which is oddly symbolic). Ella looks at the picture and says, “Jee-Ju.”
I smile very happily, being a mom IS wonderful.
