Yesterday morning Sam left for Georgia. It was hard on us all. Especially Bella, his little buddy. We came home and I was sick, probably sicker than I’d been yet this pregnancy, and just needed to sleep and have some quiet.

With a 3 year old.

After a struggle all evening to get her to settle down and relax with me, she had a giant meltdown before bed. I was exhausted and told her, “Do you want to sleep in Mama and Daddy’s big bed? With just Mama?” This made her squeal and we had a talk about rules (going to sleep, no playing, etc). I figured I’d go to sleep right after her and with it already being so late she’d pass right out.

This is how it went.

9:30pm. I’m reading on my phone next to her. “Mama?” she whispers.

“What Bella?”

“I barted.” (farted)

No response. She repeats it louder. “Bella,” I say sternly, “it is time for sleeping. Lay down.”

“But I wanna talk!”

I sigh. She pressed her face into mine and whispers, “I wanna talk Mama.”

“Lay down.”

Screams in despair at not being able to talk. Thrashing in the bed. Covers off.

“BELLA. IT IS TIME TO GO TO SLEEP.” Cries. “Do you need to go back to your own bed?”

“No Mama, I stop.”

Silence. For a minute I think she’s out, then a cat jumps on the bed and meows. Her head pops up. “KITTY!”

I hiss it off and cover her back up. “Where kitty go?”

“He jumped off – go to sleep.”

“I wanna talk!”

I don’t understand this. I ignore her in hopes she’ll just roll over and sleep. More thrashing. “Where is yellow kitty?”

I dig it out among the 19 billion animals she has in bed with us and cover her again. Silence.

“What’s that noise?”

There is no noise. At this point I am very aware I should just put her back in her own bed for both our sakes, but I’m still dreaming of her snuggled up next to me as we sleep. So I hold out, and turn off my phone to see if she goes to sleep. She does. And then every hour wakes up and grabs her water bottle like she’s been in the Sahara and guzzles it down, ending with a huge, “AAAAHHHH.” Covers off. On. Up. Down. Blankets rearranged. Something smells. Something is on the floor. Something is poking her.

I wake up at 2am to find her snuggled up in the crook of my arm with her arms thrown around me. I lay there and soak it in, her still bits of baby that are left and the way she wants to be next to me. I fall asleep and wake up at 3am to yellow kitty creeping up my face as she giggles.

I take her things and put her in her bed, climb back into mine, realize she left her other kitty, go back, cover her up again, and pass out.

At 7:30 there is a little face peeking over the side of my bed. I look at her groggily with one eye open.

“Mama?” she says. I grunt.

“I tired.”

No kidding.