Apr

5

Status

Countdown to leaving on a 7+ hour car drive: 12 hours

Number of toddlers suddenly feverish and vomiting: 1

Sense of despair: TOTAL

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Apr

3

Sweet dreams

For the last couple nights Dylan has slept from around 11:30 PM until 5 AM, and I am greatly pleased with this turn of events. It seems almost ridiculously greedy to try and eke more sleep out of him once I’ve fed him at 5 AM, but while on one hand I’m thinking yay, 5 AM! I am of course also thinking, jesus fuck, it’s only 5 AM.

He spends the majority of his night in the bassinet but after his wee-hour milkfest I tend to move him into the swing. The movement seems to lull him back to sleep faster, or perhaps the sheer g-forces of the thing flattens him into helpless immobility. My main criticism of our otherwise-beloved “Nature’s Touch” cradle swing aside from the beshitted 7-minute audio cutoff is the fact that the lowest movement setting is quite robust — it actually has like five more notches above this, which I can only assume is intended for launching your child into space when you’ve had all you can take of their goddamn fussing. During daylight hours the sight and sound of the swing rocking back and forth seems gentle enough, but for some reason in the dark of our silent bedroom it seems like it should come with several restraining straps and maybe a barf bag. When Dylan finally wakes up later in the morning I picture him desperately flailing for the Off switch like Maggie in her Swingamajig.

If all else fails sleepwise I take Dylan back to bed with me, where he forms a warm loaf on my chest. His little body, even in slumber, scootches upward until his head is pressed against my jaw, which makes me paranoid that his malleable Play-Doh skull will end up with a chin-shaped dent in it. He creates an oval-shaped sweaty spot on my chest while my back aches and eventually my trachea collapses thanks to the babysnout shoving into my neck, but I can definitely think of less pleasant ways to pass the time.

In the mornings when Riley comes galloping into our bedroom he makes the same announcement every time: “It’s Diwwan!” He turns to me with his five-foot-long eyelashes all fluttery with wonder. “It’s Diwwan, Mommy.” Like it’s a wonderful surprise, every single day.

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