Losing Sleep.

We'd all woken up and gone about our morning business like it was a regular morning.  Al was halfway out the door;

"Wait!  It's Bea's Birthday!!"

The big party and present parade days behind us, we'd let the actual day almost slip our minds. 

With no dramatic rescue, no fascinating cast of characters, no edge of your seat life or death suspense, her first day is easy to forget, because it was so easy.

We drove fifteen minutes to the hospital.  An hour later she appeared.  And less than twenty four hours, we were all home.

And life with her was easy.  From her first night ever, she only bothered me once or twice to eat, only took ten minutes doing that before passing back out.

I never lost a night's sleep during Bea's babyhood.  Not one.

She slipped into our daily routines without a hiccup, without a complaint at being carted around to Owen's numerous appointments, happily allowing me to dump her with a sitter when needed. 

We flowed.  She goed.

And she too was surprised, when Al came back into the house Thursday morning to wish her a Happy Birthday.

"Today?  I'm FIVE today?  Yeah!!!"  Double. Fist. Pump.

Lucky girl will likely always enjoy her big day out of school as it falls during February vacation.  Again with the luck as I'd planned a night away with the kids at a hotel that promised all manner of cooped up kid distraction and entertainment.

We swam, played in the arcade, attended a mad scientist show, went out for pizza, and had a bonfire on the beach, during which she fell heavily asleep on my lap.

We snuggled in the big bed, while Owen watched a movie from his own big bed.

She pushed me.  I mean both arms out straight and a shove like she meant it.  I scooched over.  She flailed until she was sideways in the bed.

"Owen.  Ok if Mommy sleeps with you?"

"OK!!"  With a hearty pat on the mattress.

We snuggled. We watched Alice in Wonderland. The old one.  He read his book.  I read my book.

"I tired Mommy.  I going to sleep."

"Goodnight Sweetie."

"You have to sleep over there."

He's never let me sleep with him.  Not never.  Once, a few years ago in the hospital we shared a bed.  But that's it.  I've bragged about what a good and independent sleeper he is.

I realigned Bea in her bed and sneaked in beside her.

She kicked me. And shoved me. Right to the edge of the bed.  I fell out, walked to the other side and sneaked back in.

She found me, shimmied up so close, and put her head on my shoulder.  And gave me a knee to the kidney.

Finding myself at the edge once again, I walked around and slid in the other side of the bed.

At some point Owen got up, yelled at me for turning the light off, went pee, yelled at me for sending him back to wash his hands.

Bea kicked me out again.  And again.

I'd almost gone to sleep a couple times.  Almost.

It was almost light outside.  Almost.

Owen sits up;

"Is it morning?  Can we be awake now?"

Bea emerges from the blankets;

"Mommy?  Am I still five?"

"Yes.  And yes."

I definietly deserve such an easy kid.

And yes, I definitely deserved to finally lose a night's sleep.