The kids are sleeping.
And I am awake.
Could it be?
Is it happening?
If I actually speak it out loud, will it all unravel? (Well, that’s OK; got ’em on a technicality as I am actually only writing this, right?)
Touch wood and all that; but, mate, I will lie myself plank style on this wooden table if need be.
So I will tempt the gods and tell you.
Our little diva has slept every night, in her own bed, since we moved to Sydney.
This is my 2 1/2 year old, people, who historically eventually goes to sleep in her own bed, but has found her way over to us EVERY NIGHT since she went in to her own bed (over a year now). We were too lazy tired, dammit, to argue. And I grew to like it; love it even. I may even be a little lot sad!
Could it be the fresh sea air?
Could it be the ridiculous amount of Sydney hills I am forcing these wee children to climb?
Could it be…she is growing up?
Whatever it is, if I could bottle the formula I would be a millionaire a million times over. The secret every parent desires…the holy grail of a full nights sleep.
My biggest dream…my ultimate goal these last few years…my tantalising fantasy…simple really; I just want an uninterrupted sleep.
But is it what it’s cracked up to be?
I’m not actually sure how I feel.
I know I am blessed and thrilled with my two babies.
There will be no more.
But…ouch…there’s an unexpected little tug on my heartstrings. What will be next?
She is already fiercely determined and independent (albeit as yet that has not stretched to toilet training…bad mummy), but WHO do I become, when she doesn’t really need, NEED me anymore?
In the dark of the night, my angel would cuddle in to me, stroke my face and tell me she loved me (exhale). I would watch her close her eyes and drift away with a smile on her face.
…and within a few hours she would be horizontal, feet in my spine and Husband would have given up and migrated to her bed for some actual sleep.
And now? Now?
Now I am awake at 1am, 3am, 5am wondering if she is OK. Uninterrupted sleep is a myth, my friends. It is something from my past. A memory.
So there is no fairytale.
No good or bad.
No right or wrong.
Just a little hole.
Just a little feeling of empty.
Just the beautiful, privileged knowledge that my angel girl is growing up.
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