the talking clock

The sleepless nights are continuing unabated.

Meanwhile, TJOML simply refuses to go to bed without a fight these days.

Which in itself would be alright to handle because she still responds well to my rocking her and singing to her.

What is not easy to handle is her tendency to wake up at 3 in the morning, every morning for the last 10 days, after about 6 hours of nap, with a loud piercing scream. Patting and singing temporarily stops the screams, but, the minute I walk away from her crib thinking she is drifting off to sleep again, they start with renewed vigor.

Unwilling to bend over the crib in my half-asleep state, singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star while rubbing her back, I reluctantly pick her up and settle her back in bed next to me every night (or rather, early morning).

Which in itself is not the issue, again. I love to snuggle next to my baby, no doubt.

But, she does not want to snuggle. She wants to sit up and talk. She wants to change her baby doll Enid's diaper right then. She wants to play with the kitties who happen to be snuggling with us, peacefully purring away. She wants to get going... no more lying in bed. Time's a-wasting...

I stay perfectly still, afraid to breathe hard, eyes closed, pretending to be totally asleep and unaware of Ms.Chatty, ignoring the impulse to scream out in pain when she endearingly twirls my tangled hair and pulls them by the tiny handful... but only for a few brief minutes.

Why only for a few brief minutes? Well, because, she leans over me, points at the digital clock on my nightstand and starts reading off the displayed numbers: 'sees', pause, 'aeth', 'naa'. And, her pauses drive me to open my eyes, look at the display and gushingly say, 'seven, that's a seven. suh-ven. can you say seven?'