Curse You!

Watching Clara sleep is breathtaking.

Literally. I try not to breathe in hopes that my stillness will ease her into slumber. I'm afraid that any slight move will be construed as an open invitation to forgo sleep and party all night. And by "party" I mean coo, poop, and cry. Clara is beautiful. I relish every waking moment with her, but there comes a time when days have to make way for nights so we can all rest in preparation for the day ahead... and so Mommy can replenish her dwindling supply of patience.

You may be wondering why I am blogging at nearly midnight. Well, let me tell you.

We had an uneventful evening. I worked on my Halloween costume, Brent did some laundry and Clara got toted around from room to room as we did our chores. We watched Once Upon A Time (which I think we will watch again... it stars that one chick from House!) We gave Clara a bath. We cuddled as a family.

It was rounding ten o'clock, which is about when we lie Mazers down each night for her ritualistic hour long scream/cough/whimper cry. I mute the monitor as I get ready for bed and set an alarm on my phone to wake me up in an hour (if I've fallen asleep) to check the monitor again. Tonight, as luck would have it, I had not fallen asleep when the alarm sounded. Instead I was talking Brent's ear off, telling him all the wonderful changes I am going to make to our house. Pinterest really is a Pandora's Box! So, I got out of bed to go soothe my very angry child.

As I entered the room, her cries turned to soft whimpers, assumably because she knows the soft whimpers will melt my heart and immediately set off my guilt reflex. I dried her little tear-streaked cheeks and pulled her in close. I honestly love this part of my job. The times where we snuggle, when I can feel her chest rise and fall with each tiny breath. The times when she wraps her chubby little arm around mine and entwines us so I can never let her go. I swayed softly, singing Taylor Swift to her because her's are the only slow songs coming to mind. Then, I eased myself sideways into my chair with Clara lying across my chest and her glow-belly seahorse propped under my chin. And we rocked. And I rubbed her back. And she drifted off to sleep.

Then I sneezed.

I tried to stop it. Tried to will my nose into forgetting its tickle. But no. My body wretched and convulsed and my gorgeous sleeping baby woke up, suddenly wearing the face her daddy makes when we get a nasty-gram from the HOA making her not-so-gorgeous. I rocked her more and rubbed her back with more exaggerated strokes hoping the new tempo would be as soothing as before. No luck.

So, here I am, two full hours later. Clara is still crying, but alone in her crib for now. Maybe the distance will keep her from remembering my recent offense and she'll fall back to sleep.

Maybe.

Curse you allergies!!!!