For the Love of Murphy!

When you bring your newborn home and lay him in the bassinet that once cradled your father, you know your nights of uninterrupted sleep are over.  What you don't know is that they are over forever. 

My children are 6 and 4, and they have been "sleeping through the night" for years.  Sort of.  Take last night for example. 

The Castrataro household is hosting a nameless virus that inspires unproductive coughing, fevers, and general grumpiness.  My children put themselves to bed at 6 pm last night out of sheer fatigue. 

At 8:30 pm, I gave up pretending to be awake, pulled my twin-sized Murphy bed down from the living room closet (another blog post altogether!), and crawled under my cozy afghans "to sleep, perchance to dream." 

(Insert fiendish laugh here.) 

At 9:30 pm my daughter had a coughing fit and came into the living room.  I got her some cough medicine.  It wasn't grape-flavored, however, so she spit it up in her hair and on the couch.  I admit to being annoyed.  I grabbed the Carbona 2-in-1, cleaned the couch, and put Chinchita to bed, knowing her hair would be stuck solid come daylight. 

I stirred the fire and went back to Murphy. 

At 10:30 pm, my son called out from his room.  He was having growing pains.  (These growing pains are really gruesome, by the way.  He has had them for years and the only solution is Motrin and time...and Mommy's bed.)  I gave him the Motrin.  He was in agony.  I asked if he wanted to sleep with Mommy.  But of course. 

So Ranita and I squeezed into the twin-sized Murphy bed.  My son tossed and turned and eventually slept.  By 1:30 am, I was ready to have my bed to myself again.  He agreed. 

I put my son back in his bed, stirred the fire again, and returned to Murphy. 

At 3:30 am, my daughter awoke to another coughing fit.  I got her some cough medicine (yes, the grape-flavored this time).  She was still coughing. 

I sighed.

Did she want to sleep with Mommy?  Naturally. 

So Chinchita and I squeezed into my twin-sized Murphy bed, with the addition of her pillow.  She periodically had a coughing spasm, I rubbed her back, and she went back to sleep. 

At 6 am my alarm went off, reminding me it was time to get up and spend time with God.  I asked Him for grace and went back to bed.  A half hour later, I awoke with a coughing fit, made a cup of coffee, and sat down with my Bible and my journal. 

I try to tell myself I will sleep when the kids are older, but I realize that is a fantasy.  In their teen years I will be kept awake by nightmares of drunken orgies and unsavory girl/boyfriends.  When they leave for college, I will stay up praying they are not running amok with their newfound independence.  Jobs, spouses, grandchildren . . . all the things I once worried about for myself I will then worry about for them. 

And I somehow suspect that once I have my Murphy bed all to myself again, I will miss the days when one--or both--of my little munchkins were curled up beside me, getting comfort from their mommy.