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I Can Sleep When I'm Dead

I came home last night from work to a dark house.  Every time I pull in and see that all the lights are off, I get a little disappointed.  I like it when Chet waits up for me, although that's incredibly selfish of me, being that he has to be up at the crack of dawn to go to work.

I had my usual midnight bowl of cereal and crawled into bed.  I'm pretty sure it's my thyroid medication, but I have terrible anxiety at night.  Especially when no one else is up.  I toss and turn and imagine terrible things happening like what if the house is burning and I can't get to the kids and what if I forget to keep an eye on the baby at the park and he goes into the water and...  Then I wake up in the morning and laugh out loud at how silly that was.  Probably because my kids are now eating breakfast and whining that so and so got more than them and so and so touched them on the arm and so and so hit them and...

So last night, I was doing the usual tossing and turning when I heard Milo wake up.  I hopped out of bed to feed him and got back into bed.  I started dozing off to sleep but was woken up by a terrible but quiet shrill coming from the computer.  I hopped out of bed and shut off the power strip, which did the trick.  I looked at the clock before getting back into bed; 12:46am.

At 1:21am, I was woken up by the sound of all three kids bawling upstairs.  I sat up, my heart racing.  Something terrible was happening to them, was my first thought.  I raced up the stairs and found Piper, red faced, bawling in her crib.  Avery was standing next to her crib, trying to console her, but was also in tears.  Tucker was whimpering from his bed, rubbing his eyes, saying over and over again, "Piper too loud!"

"She needs a diaper change."  Avery said.

I checked her and she was fine, but changed her anyway.  She continued to bawl.  She felt really warm and I couldn't find the thermometer, so I gave her a dose of Tylenol and some ice water in a sippy cup.  That seemed to do the trick.

By the time I got back downstairs, Milo was in need of another feeding.

I crawled back into bed again, and checked the clock.  2:13am.

At 3:43am, I woke up to Piper bawling again.  She wasn't warm.  She wasn't cold.  She wasn't thirsty.  She wasn't hungry.  She just cried.  And arched her back. Like something was bothering her.  I brought her downstairs so her other siblings could sleep in peace.  She fell asleep next to me.

At 4:30am, Milo got up for another feeding.  As I was crawling out of bed, Piper felt me move and woke up, screaming.  It wasn't a whimper or an over-tired cry.  It was screaming.  Like something was hurting.

We all went back to bed again at 5am, and when Chet got up for work, Piper got up with him and went with him as he brought stuff out to his car and ate breakfast.

She's acting okay now, but was never able to tell me what was bothering her.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here feeding Milo, with toothpicks propping my eyes open.

I'm sure I kept my own mother awake on many nights.  Even when I was old enough to know better, I'd haul my blanket and pillow down to their room during a storm or when I couldn't sleep.  She'd sigh and tell me to sleep on the floor.  Until I was about 8.  I remember her telling me I was too old for that.

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