Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Frog People

I was probably about six years old when I started dreaming about the frog people. My cousin Chet and I would be on an island where we were being chased by frog people. That’s the best way I have to describe the things that were chasing us. They had green skin, looked like frogs and wore cloth diaper-esque clothing over their privates. They carried spears and laughed as they chased us.

We’d always make it to the edge of the island, where we could see another landmass across the water. On that other shore stood our mothers and siblings, waving to us, calling out to us to make our way to them.

I had this dream many times as a child. I convinced myself that if I slept on the outside of a bed, rather than against a wall, I’d have the dream. I was also sure that if I slept holding my mom’s hand, I wouldn’t have the dream.

I mention this because we had five whole days in a row of Olivia sleeping through the night, in her own bed and it was awesome. Seriously, those who are not chronically sleep deprived do not have a clue as to how amazing it is to sleep five whole nights, IN A ROW, without someone, anyone waking them up even once.

So yeah, she’s slept well for the past week or so. Except the night before last, when she woke up at 11:30 to join me in my bed after she had to potty. I know, I should be happy she’s waking up to pee at night, right? Okay, I am. Sort of.

Last night, though, Olivia started in my bed, and again, she slept all night long with nary a peep.

As I drifted off to sleep, I remembered the comfort of my mom’s hand when I was Olivia’s age. I wondered if my mom often felt the same frustration and exhaustion when she dealt with me and my frog people.

I realized how amazingly patient my mom was. How I never knew if she was exasperated with my need to hold her hand as I fell asleep.

And I vowed to be a little more patient with Olivia on the nights she starts in my bed and even the nights she wakes me up and ends in my bed. She could have her own version of frog people dreams, dreams that haunt her, that freak her out, that make her need my nearness.

If I’m able to be half the comfort to my sweet girl that my mom was to me, my job is absolutely worth the almost eight years of sleeplessness I’ve experienced.

No comments: