Thank you

Who knew that a self-indulgent whine would garner even more supportive comments than the birth of a baby? My humble thanks to all the kind folks out there who offered their cyber-encouragement, suggestions and hugs in response to the last post. I appreciate it; as far as we are from most close friends, it's good to hear from you across the miles. And if a post like the last one brings C. out of the woodwork for the first time, along with Holly and Malcolm and others reading along relatively quietly, maybe I should do it more often!

As for your many wise suggestions, thank you for those, too. Crystal, I'd love to see if I could make 30 minutes of mom-only time a reality around here in the transition from work to home each day; it would make a big difference, even if it meant simply that I got to read the mail, unpack the lunch bags, and check the voice mail in peace. A., night weaning would unquestionably improve our quality of life, and it's on the agenda for the summer. Alice was nightweaned once upon a time, and then as so often happens, sickness or some other shake-up this winter upset the routine. We tried re-training her, but her fierce 3-4 hour crying stints were waking up Edith and making her a mess in the morning, so we resolved to wait until E's schoolyear was over. School is done now, and renewed night training is coming.

As for the rest of it, I've had a few more catch-up sleep-ins, thanks in part to New Teach and Hobokener, who delivered on their posted offer to [fly in from 2,000 miles away and] babysit. They also were here every evening last week when I got home from work (I'd signed up for a stint evaluating student writing portfolios, for the good of the bottom line and out of a continued nerdy love of thinking about the teaching of writing), and it was a lovely lift to have four adults around to make dinner and tend the children...who meanwhile tended themselves that much better for having friends around.

We also had a couple of days this past weekend of family time without an agenda (other than getting Tom packed and prepared for a trip to Haiti), and that made it feel like summer indeed. Just doing errands together, all of us with time to spare for such mundane things, felt wonderful.

Finally, last night before Tom's departure, we hit the Holy Grail of sleep. Alice merits another post soon, about all the things she's telling us she's going to be big enough to do "tomorrow later" or as she also says, "when I'm a three year old grader." But last night she insisted that she was "so big now to sleep in Edie's bed." In other words, she deemed herself suddenly old enough to join Edith in the bunk bed, rather than sleep in her own room in the crib. We do anticipate the girls sharing a room at some point, but we've tried several preliminary experiments in this vein this past winter (at Alice's suggestion), only to abort after 10 or 15 minutes when it became clear Alice couldn't/wouldn't yet sleep/lie-down/be-quiet/stay-in-bed  in Edith's room. We expected another round of the same last night.

Instead, Alice asked us to close the door as the two of them snuggled a bit on the bottom bunk after hearing a chapter of Harry Potter. That was the last we heard of them. Forty minutes later we dared to peek in, and there they were sound asleep, head-to-head on the pillow. Alice had fallen asleep without nursing or lullabies. Edith had fallen asleep in a dark room with the door closed and without restless tossing. It was a minor miracle.

It was a major miracle that they stayed asleep all night. We awaited a small person crying out in the wee hours as usual, or two kids crying out as one woke the other, or the thump of a little body rolling onto the floor. Nothing.

They're trying the experiment again tonight. I'm not declaring a new household order yet, but it's extraordinary enough for what already has transpired.

More posts to come--our scheming toddler, further photos from the Hoboken buddies' visit, and "pony camp."