Sleep Glorious Sleep...where for art thou???

As I reflect on one of my previous entries "The Art of the Nap" it is clear to me that in many ways, we Miyamotos have come a long way in our quest for restful sleep. But this week it has become painfully clear that I must prepare myself to fight another battle in the war to defend and protect a full night's sleep.

For some reason I can't really remember the specifics of the girls' previous nap transitions. They just sort of happened. First there were five or six, than four, and for the last few months three. But recently the magic number three has not been so magical. For some reason Maya and Zoe just can't seem to bring themselves to sleep past 5:00am (they used to sleep until 6:00-6;30)and have also come to the conclusion that their late afternoon nap is just so passe. There are a whole laundry list of things wrong with this picture. But to name just a few:
1.) 5:00 is just toooooo damn early...period!
2.) With a normal bedtime of 6:30-7:00pm, 14 daytime hours is simply way to long for all involved.
3.) With their previous nap schedule and them skipping their last nap they are going from 12:30-6:30 sans sleep. This is not good...
Take yesterday for example...
After six consecutive hours of wake time (Mommy did try to give them their third nap but they weren't havin' it!) the girls finally went down. But after just 45 minutes I heard a panicked shrieking coming from the nursery. Immediately I identified the forlorn little wails as Zoe's. This was unusual, because Maya is usually the one to put up a fuss at bedtime. So after several minutes of crying (with me hoping she would soothe herself back to sleep) I went in to check to be sure she did not have poopy pants. (I mean who can sleep a wink with poopy pants?) But no, she was dry, dry, dry, well fed, and burped. There was nothing wrong with this child except the fact that she was too over tired to calm herself down after waking up. Now in the world of singletons this would be enough of a challenge, but in the twin world there is always the perpetual problem of "the other baby". In this case, the question was how long could Zoe cry before waking (overtired) Maya only to have two crying babies. Note: this was the third night in a row this had happened hence creating a new and undesired pattern. I have read all the sleeping books and not a one deals in any depth with the unique sleeping challenges of multiples - other than the all incompassing, "give each their own room".

I quickly got my answer to this question as sweet peacefully sleeping Maya began to wail in unison with her sister. This is about when the pounding around my temples started and I noticed an increasingly anxious knot in my stomach. No mother likes to hear her baby cry, but it truly is doubly awful to hear two at a time! So after about 25 minutes of me trying to figure out what to do, Zoe finally managed to begin to wind down. Unfortunately Maya had begun to spin so out of control that I feared there would be no chance of coming back from this egde of insanity. With pathetic pained gasps and a mountain of snot running down her nose, I finally whisked her from her bed in hopes of being able to comfort her back to sleep. The first few moments gave me a glimmer of hope as she immediately flashed me a relieved smile. But the mucous monster had already done too much damage. A peaceful ending to this story was not to be. As I carried her into my room she began to cough. This, exacerbated by the crying fit, suddenly produced a completely unexpected wave of vomit the likes of which I had never seen. Of course I can't help but note that this all occurred on the much talked about 06/06/06...coincidence?... All I can say is that it rivaled scenes from some classic horror flicks.

Strangely as all this was culminating, I find it interesting that my first gut instinct was to use myself as a human shield in an attempt to spare my new carpet.

Earlier, Jeff had called to let me know that he was planning to make it home for the evening. It was at this moment that I heard the "click clack" of the back door and Jeff whisper an excited "Daddy's home!" I immediatly greeted him with "COME HERE RIGHT NOW!!!" in an alarming whipsered hiss. As he cautiously peered around the door into the bathroom, he tried to mask a slight gasp in response to the hideous scene that stood before him. Upon exhale of a deep cleansing breath he asked, "What can I do to help?" Again I find it peculiar yet humorous that as Maya and I stood there literally soaked to the skin with the contents of her last two meals, my first response was "Grab a rag and clean the puke off the carpet...QUICK! If we act fast we might still be able to get the smell out!"

God love him!!! He went right to work and soon came back to lend another set of able hands in an effort to help clean up the fallout of the site that will forever be known as the Regurg Incident of 2006. He calmly offered to bathe my precious little puke covered child. As I lowered her into the tub, she gleefully grabbed for her beloved bath toys (And me with my barf-laden shirt and pants still sticking to my chest and thighs.

"I'll bathe her. You go take a shower." Never has the spoken word been such sweet music to my ears.

NOTE: Just a thought on unconditional love...The unconditional love for a child can be evidenced through the story above. As all the mayhem was happening around me (and on me) my only primal concern was for bringing comfort and solace to my little My Pie. Any other person on the planet would have quite a price to pay for puking their guts out all over me and more importantly ...my new carpet! ;)