ch, ch, ch - changes

i found one of my all-time favorite david bowie songs running circles in my head at about 4:17 this morning. "ch, ch, ch, changes" it sang as i rubbed eliana's head with one hand and held her thrashing legs down with the other. we had been up since about three dancing this same dance. this is my child who has slept through the night since she was eight weeks old. my little superstar. my little baby who is going through yet another change. for the past two weeks or so she hasn't been sleeping like she used to. she has generally been waking up in the middle of the night for a snack and then returned, quickly, to her dreamlike slumber. i figured perhaps she was growing and needed some extra food to keep her going. now i'm not so sure. after i fed her at three, and gingerly placed her back in her bucket, the kicking began. because she sleeps swaddled, she kicks more as if her legs were replaced by a ping-pong paddle that slaps the bottom of her little bed. if she is at all turned, her paddle seems to lie perfectly against my lower back and she kicks off my spine like she's pushing off the deep end of the swimming pool before a race. except she does it repeatedly.

i'm not a good sleeper. never have been. so for me to have been blessed (though perhaps only temporarily) with such a splendid sleeper was incredible. the number of nights i have watched her sleep while my mind buzzed and festered in a million directions is innumerable, at this point. the only sure cure it seems for insomnia is an awake baby. then, more than anything, you want another five minutes of deep slumber. you try to sleep while she's nursing and your head is wedged halfway between the wooden headboard and the end of the pillow. you try to sleep while your hand is caught up in the repetitive motion of soothing her head, while your head is resting on the metal edge of her baby bed. you send her telepathic messages, reminding her that it is time to go back to sleep. when you say that phrase in your head, you say it in a deep, commanding voice, trying to make it extra powerful even though she can't hear you at all. you stare at her wide awake eyes and then shut yours, modeling the proper eyelid technique for a good nights sleep. and yet, she continues to swing her little head back and forth and slap her fin like a regular beached whale (a very, very small beached whale).

and now it's almost 9:15, you are supposed to be ready to go back to work after a week off, due to the snow, a week of eliana getting used to staying home with mom again and out of her going to grandma and grandpa routine. she continues to slumber and you don't want to wake her because she didn't sleep well last night and you know that the more she sleeps during the day, the better off you'll be in the evening. yet you still have to pump milk, feed her, brush your teeth, defrost your windshield, warm up the car, drive her up the hill, try and feed her again, and get to work in time to xerox homework packets and write the morning message on the board. good lord. i better wake her.