Sleep progress report.
Remember progress reports in middle school? They weren’t quite report cards, but could still get you in trouble with their expressions of pseudo-concern for your academic development. You could picture your teacher sitting at home with her sixteen cats, drinking malt liquor and brandishing her pen vindictively as she plotted the most effective way to get you grounded: “Uccellina is generally doing fine, but would achieve more if she would leave the class gerbil alone.”
Well, I am not ready to assign a grade to the babies’ sleep, and they’re already grounded by virtue of being, y’know, babies. So a progress report seems in order.
Overall assessment: Room for improvement.
Both babies still nurse through a good part of the night, which is fine by me as I mostly sleep through it.
We had to drop the cosleeper down to playpen level, because Robin has been pulling up on the edge of it and frowning pensively, as if gauging the distance to the floor.
He has also been wriggling himself up over my shoulder in his sleep, necessitating a hauling-down-by-the-shins. This maneuver resulted last night in a weird popping sound in my neck and a lot of pain this morning.
Right now I sleep with Wren on the inside and Robin on the outside, both snuggled in the crooks of my arms. But three times now I have woken to find my right arm empty. Where is Wren?!?!?! OMG CHECK FLOOR. Not on floor. Where the hell did she go? How could she – wait a sec. [Look more closely at baby tucked under left arm.] There are two babies there! Wren rolled all the way across my body to lie squarely on top of Robin. I actually used to joke, when I was pregnant, “Twins! They’re stackable!” Turns out I was right.
In light of the above, we might be looking at replacing the cosleeper with a twin bed pushed up against our current queen. Mostly for the sake of the babies’ safety, but also because Husband has been relegated to a tiny slice of edge-of-the-bed realty, and I’m afraid he might fall off and be swallowed up by the dust bunnies that have taken over our bedroom.
Robin has decided that if I don’t open my eyes after he has yelled thrice, biting is warranted. I disagree. We are currently in negotiations.