Mending Wall...

Something about this time of year makes me yearn to reach for a book of Robert Frost poems, a steaming cup of tea with cream, and a big comfy chair to curl up in.

Unfortunately for me, there are two very large (and yet very small) obstacles to this aim -- named Jack and Tobin. Yesterday, however, there was a zen moment where the moon was right and all the chakkras came into alignment, and both boys actually slept AT THE SAME TIME for about an hour - During which time I got a hot soak in the tub, managed to hilight my hair, and made use of the French Seaweed Mud Mask (because apparently French seaweed and mud is superior to all other kinds of seaweed and mud) that I got in my stocking for Christmas. And my skin feels fantastic today, thankyouverymuch.

I felt absolutely decadent. I mean, a BATH. In the middle of the day. And quiet time to contemplate the condition of my pores. And more quiet time to contemplate the wrinkle that has formed on my left cheek, right along the smile line. (It's a badge of honor, that one wrinkle. Perish the thought of ever botoxing proof that I really do smile more often than I frown - in spite of rumors to the contrary.)

Of course, the moment of zen was later pulverized when Toby decided that sleeping was a secondary concern to crying for no apparent reason in 2 minute bursts every 10 minutes through the night.

I parried with a "fine, sleep with me in the bed".

He returned with a 4am feeding demand.

This back and forth continued until he fell soundly and silently asleep. I celebrated my victory, vindicated by his little baby snoring. Then, I realized it was 7:30 and T was shaking me awake to see to Jack so he could leave for work. All the while, my little ninja slept soundly in his crib, secure in the knowledge that he had ruined Mommy's chances of making it through the day without a nervous breakdown.

Something there is that doesn't love a sleeping Mother. That wants her awake. That sends the sobbing infant to rouse her, and topple her sanity in the sun... (shameless murdering of Frost there, by the way. It's really a lovely poem.)

It's 9:25am. Can I go back to bed yet???

Good slumbers make good Mommies.