No wait.
Life is always busy, and usually I find the time somewhere, because writing and connecting with all of you is a joy. The sad truth is I have had very little motivation to write because of the relentlessly irritable mood that has gripped me over the past few days. The object of my outrage? Exhibit A, the monstrous little girl you see here, reflecting on the lifespan of the chicken at Kinder Farm Park this morning.
On Monday at a beautiful local playground I refused to push her on the swings and insisted that she practice pumping. I confessed to bouts of irrational anger over Frances' behavior to my kind friend Milena as I watched her push Frances with generosity and good humor. I told her that I hardly recognized my kid sometimes. Who was this child? She was so quick to pick a fight, and so utterly resistant to complying with even the tiniest request.
Most disturbing of all was the way I hardly recognized myself. Where was the rage coming from? Why not bend a little, rather than break? I did tell Milena that the lack of sleep in our household was getting to be seriously problematic and perhaps this had something to do with our short tempers.
Well, did it ever. Last night, due to a cold, I got in bed with a book at 7:30. I didn't exactly have the best night of sleep, but when the morning came at 4:15, I wasn't as groggy as I normally would be. With a clear head, I refused to let our wacko sleeper wake up Frances before 6 am one more day. Taking uncharacteristic action, I put on some pants and whisked out the door with noisy Gabriel on my hip, through the warm darkness and into the car.
We admired the moon. We admired the trucks on the road. I took him to a 24 hour diner, where we made towers of little jellies, shared some eggs, read Hop on Pop, and admired the work of an artist who was carefully penciling a scene featuring wild ponies racing down a hill. Our waiter told us the illustrator often comes in around 11 pm and works all night, drawing in his booth.
I held out until around 6:30, when we returned home. Frances was still sleeping. Success! She came down a little after we got home (wish I'd stayed away longer) and Mike and I immediately noted a difference. She was pleasant, she was alert, she was ready to get dressed and go visit the baby animals at Kinder Farm.
I wanted to shout out happily, like Gabriel does when I return from work: YOU CAME BACK!! We spent time looking at the animals, joked together, played on the playground, and even squeezed in some classic Frances-style metaphysical wondering over a snack. We were talking about my dad. She had wanted to hear stories about him in the car on the way earlier that morning. She told me that he was with God in heaven. That was very far away, but she could maybe just faintly hear him talking now. He was saying: I still love you, even since I'm dead. Wait, there's more...he is also saying: If I were alive, we would do lots of things together Frances, and I would come to see you every day.
She looked at me with the widest eyes, the same wide eyes from Christmas time and talk of Santa, from stories about fairies that maybe come into her room at night. You can watch her eyes get bigger as her imagination starts to become her reality. Mama, Grandpa was really talking to me! And then: Mama, if Grandpa were alive, I would love him so much. Much more than I love the color blue.
I just listened. We were both happy, all day. When the sitter arrived this afternoon so I could do some work, both children protested. Inwardly, I did too. Usually I am ready and willing to pass them off by 3 pm. But today I was the one prolonging our see-you-soon hug. It felt so good to be myself with my daughter, who was also being her extraordinary self.
Today was a good day. What an extra hour of sleep can do!
Now the question is - what to do tomorrow at 4:30?
6 comments:
Wow. You are incredible. I will try to think of 4:30am activities for you. I suspect you will find a lot of amazing things, like that all night illustrator! Perhaps he'll become a friend and Gabriel will have a book about him..... Sleep well my dear friend!
awww, YES! totally get you, my dear. this kid and my kid have some kind of cosmic connection. sleep is precious here, too. have i recommended "raising your spirited child" to you yet? if not, i highly recommend. it's a good window into their world and at least helped me put it in perspective. now, how to get gabriel to sleep past 4:15. ugh. i would be a FAR less lovely mother than you at that time of day. (and btw i am truly going to answer your email. flagged in my inbox and waiting for a moment when i can reflect on such a good idea!)
I hardly know what to say about this one. Frances sometimes just puts her little hand around my heart and squeezes hard. I think I understand her keen sense of hearing. I think she's on to something - the mysteries out there that are more accessible to a child like Frances. Of course it's her imagination at work but it's more than that, too. I believe all that love is still coursing around the universe and Frances harnessed it. Good for her and good for us all.
But 4:15am is a mystery only Gabriel can solve. That makes NO sense to me at all!
Oh, Frances. I'm so glad she's feeling better, but I wish YOU could get some more sleep, too! I guess if you're getting up anyway, you might as well get some diner breakfast and a happy 4-year-old out of the deal. That was an inspired idea! But Gabriel... I don't know, man. That's a toughie. I think I'd probably buy you and Frances each a white noise machine and sleep through the wailing till 6 am. I wonder how many mornings it would take until he gave up the four-fifteens?
Okay, I have to share: this morning I took Gabriel into the garage (mostly sound proof) and we played with trucks. Then we sat outside with Mike on the deck in the dark and watched bats swooping in the yard. Cool. Not as successful as leaving the premises, in terms of Frances' sleep (she got up a little after 6) but still, not bad.
And Mama, I KNOW about Frances. I swear the girl has one foot in the spirit world. It's not just her imagination at work - though I think her intense imagination is part of why she is able to tap into this mystical reality sometimes.
And Amelia, I'm all over the let-em-yell school of sleep too...it's just in this house, even the loudest buzziest white noise seems ineffective with Frances. Who I guess is a light sleeper. She wakes up screaming herself, tearing into our room. Ugh. We've been using a noisy box fan to smother sound lately, and perhaps it helps. What I wouldn't give for a 4 story Lancaster City rowhome! I'd stick the boy on the top floor and make Frances a nest in the basement...
Hmm, maybe put Gabriel's crib in the soundproof garage, then? (Just kidding...)
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