sleep

Andy and I closed down the party at exactly 9:08 last evening. The lights went out and sleep came swiftly. It was the earliest we have seen the back of our eyelids in about three weeks of burning the midnight oil. Andy's alarm gives a faithful 4:30am wakeup call no matter how much sleep we've accomplished. 

We were giddy at the prospect of sleep and counted out how many hours were before us. Seven. Seven hours of consecutive sleep. Seven hours of crazy adventures for my dream factory of a brain. 

At approximately 10pm the beep, beep, beep of a received text sounded from the kitchen where my phone was plugged in. Andy stumbled out and checked it. A message from a prospective Craigslist buyer. We had a quick discussion about answering it and decided that Sunnie could wait for our reply until morning. The phone was turned down to vibrate and plugged back in. 

The captain of the nose blowing team began practicing at about 2am. She may be a small girl but Evie can use her nose to create a sound that resembles the trumpet of a full grown elephant. Both nostrils are firmly pressed in and she blows out with all her might. It is a process repeated over and over and over again. Unfortunately, her technique is not actually effective at removing any of the offending nose material and she is very resistant to any sort of help in changing her approach. She has seasonal allergies so boogies are a daily issue. She blows so hard her face turns red, I worry for her safety. 

After a few minutes, I heard the sound of small feet march into the bathroom and back to bed. More blowing. This was my cue. I slid my glasses over tired eyes and plodded into her room. Gently, I took over the tissue handling and tried once again to help change her approach. "Don't plug both sides," I whispered demonstrating my idea. I took the kleenex and depressed one side of her nose while leaving the other clear for removal. She blew hard. 

The right nostril was free and clear but the left was obstructed and no amount of blowing was going to remedy it. She was certain that it could be removed. I took the crumpled tissue away and offered other suggestions. "Just breathe through your mouth." 

I laid beside her and rubbed her back until she lay still and her breathing was slow and even. Usually I wait until her feet twitch, which is a sure sign of sleep, but I was tired. I made my way back to my room, where Andy soundly slept, and thanked The Lord for the swift answer to my prayer. 

Back in bed, I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes. Sweet sleep called to me and then, so did the sound of the trumpet in the next room. The nose blowing had resumed. 

Not wanting Andy to be disturbed, I grabbed my glasses and followed the sound. She was distressed about her nostrils and not to be consoled. I stumbled through the living room to my small little oil stash. Peace and Calming called my name. I needed it just as much as she did at this point.

It was dark in her room, but I carefully tipped the bottle over and felt one drop hit my palm. In my hurry to right the bottle, another drop fell. The pungent fragrance filled the room. I rubbed it at the nape of her neck then gently rubbed it across her forehead. "MY EYE!" she yelled out,"YOU GOT OIL IN MY EYE! GET IT OUT!" 

I think I might have quietly laughed at this point as I pictured other mothers (in long white nightgowns with beautiful braided hair) leaning over their restless children and gently applying oils which soothed them. I was wild haired, bleary eyed and trying to calm a child who was distressed by my sabotaged attempt to soothe her. 

Somehow we made and it and again, after a long back and head rub, she was still and breathing slow. I left her room. The blowing resumed. I climbed into bed, rolled over and closed my eyes. I prayed for the persecuted church. 

Over the next two hours she battled sleep, telling wild tales of the rescuers, blowing her nose, calling "MOOOOOOOOOOM" and making frequent trips to my room with requests to save her from the scary shadows on her wall. Andy slept soundly, for which I was grateful. He isn't allowed the luxury of sleeping in. 

Morning came quickly. A beautiful wet morning, covered in the gentle rain that had fallen on it while we slept. Much needed refreshment for our parched ground. I fell back asleep and woke up after Andy was gone. 

I heard it. The sound of blowing. I froze and listened more carefully, my emotions rising. Through my open window, the cars passing by on the wet streets drove through a giant puddle and the sound of their travels matched the blowing. The girl was still sleeping. The morning was quiet for a little longer.