This sickness has wiped me out, but I finally think I've rounded the corner. I slept so well last night and woke up feeling much better. I took the little kids to the pool for a little while in the early afternoon and managed to finally get a draft written for a writing project.
"Did Phoebe sleep well?" I asked Andrew when he came home from taking the kids to swimming in the morning...because not only did he put me to bed at 9:00 last night, he also got up to take the kids to their early morning practice.
Except for Benjamin, who is away at camp this week...missing out on his birthday...which was today.
"Not at all!" he said. "You should know! You got up with her around midnight. And then I took over and sent you back to bed and she didn't really go back to sleep until around 4:00 in the morning."
"I got up with her?"
"Are you sure about that? I think I would remember. I know I got up with her two nights ago, but I do not remember getting up last night."
"That's...really weird...because you definitely got up with her. You carried her back to bed."
"I carried her...? I don't remember doing that."
"You must have been really out of it."
"I guess so."
"Yeah, I heard noises upstairs so I ran to intercept Phoebe, but you were already holding her, walking toward her bed when I caught up with you. I took her from you and told you to get back to bed and you said, 'Okay...' in a really confused way and then went back to bed."
"I...do not remember any of that."
"Well, it happened. I was there."
"Huh. Well, that's pretty out of character for me."
"I know! You usually remember what you do in the night! It's me who forgets."
And that's true. Andrew is notorious for doing strange things in the night and have no recollection in the morning. He was feeling pretty high and mighty about not being the only one to do strange things in their sleep until...
*****
This evening at dinner Miriam said something about hearing Phoebe crying on the stairs last night.
Miriam is also sick and has been sleeping on the couch in the living room so she can be propped up with pillows, but she wasn't even sleeping yet. She was drawing. So she went to the stairs and scooped up Phoebe and was about to put her into bed when Andrew rushed up to her, grabbed Phoebe and said, "I've got her. Go back to bed."
"Okay..." Miriam said, in a very confused way (because she had not been in bed and he knew that).
*****
"Ah-ha!" I said. "I didn't get up with Phoebe! I slept right through everything! I knew I wouldn't do something like that half asleep and not remember it!"
"Fine. But how am I supposed to tell you two apart in the dark?! Look at your pants! Look at your shirts! Look at your glasses!"
Miriam and I were both wearing maroon sweatpants and grey t-shirts. I guess the man gets a pass. Especially because he was taking on Phoebe.
*****
Rachel came into the kitchen to say goodnight to me...at midnight...tonight. I was doing dishes. Andrew was up with Phoebe.
Then Rachel walked down the hall and I heard Andrew say all chipper, "Good night!"
"What?!" I said, walking into his office. "I thought you were in with Phoebe."
"Nope. I'm here—in my office."
"I can see that," I said.
We stood around chatting for a bit when little miss Phoebe, clad in clashing polka dots, curly ponytail bouncing delightfully, galloped down the hallway. She spread her arms and grin wide and I swooped her up in a big hug.
"What are you doing up?"
"Cuz."
"Makes perfect sense. Listen—here's the deal: Daddy stayed on your floor for three songs. And then Mommy stayed on your floor for three songs. And then Daddy stayed on your floor for three songs again. And now Mommy needs to do the dishes and Daddy needs to get some work done, so how about you lie in your bed, so still and quiet, and listen to your music all by yourself for a little while and when I'm finished with the dishes...I'll come and check on you?? Deal?"
"Or..." Phoebe said, shooting her hand out to the side and grabbing Rachel's arm. "Her."
"What?" Rachel gasped.
"Her," Phoebe repeated firmly.
"Her...what?" Rachel gulped.
"Her can stay on my floor for three songs. I have your arm. I will pull you to my bedroom. It's just three songs..."
It's not three songs, though. It's never three songs. It's a trap.
So I carried Phoebe upstairs to bed, and Phoebe pulled Rachel along by the wrist, and I tucked Phoebe in and kissed her forehead and told her to be nice and Rachel sat beside her for...however long she did...because—loophole!—I didn't mention Rachel in my proposed plan and clearly Rachel had nothing to do at this hour.
"Rachel has to go to bed, too," I reminded Phoebe as I left the room.
"Sure," Phoebe said with a tone that sounded eerily like Phoebe doesn't believe grown ups actually require (or deserve?) rest.
But we do, Phoebe. We do!
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