News at eleven

Stop the presses. Mabel slept from 9pm to 12.30am without waking up last night. And then I even spent another two hours in my own bed from 2.30 to 4.30 or so.

Recent nights have been so bad that this seems like a fabulous advance. As her ever-logical father pointed out, it must be due to one of the following factors:
    (a) the humidifier I put in her room to stop her waking early from congestion
    (b) the white noise from the humidifier
or (c) chance.

As it was raining last night, I don't think the humidifier did much to change the quality of air, so maybe it was the noise; which I admit I've never tried before because I hate even the tiniest hum or buzz when I'm trying to sleep. Tonight I might try tuning the clock radio in her room to nothing, and seeing how that works for her.

But because I am Never Satisfied, as I luxuriated in my own bed at 11pm, unencumbered and unsummoned by small person, a tiny part of me felt rejected. It's just a glimpse into the future when the children will scorn any notion of sleeping with a parent, and my own bed will be my only bed. And for all the complaining I do about sleepless nights, it's so much simpler, if not always easy, to give love and cuddles to a small warm body that readily accepts them, than to fulfill all the other requirements of parenting.