Quentinesque

Let's give this a little Quentin Tarantino Reservoir Dogs feel and start at the end...

It was 8:15AM on Monday. Caroline was just waking up next to me, playing with her little bear. I could barely open my eyes to say goodbye to Steve, but I might have mentioned that he owed me one.

...

Caroline had a big day on Sunday and we fully expected her to conk out early and sleep right on through. She feel asleep with ease just after 8pm and appeared to be down for the count, but we kept hearing this loud stuffy nosed snoring on the monitor. Not long after she was in bed, we sleepily marched up the stairs to find some rest for ourselves too. It seemed like the moment our feet hit the floorboards of the little landing outside her door, she woke up.

We had to use the terrible "snoot sucker" (that blue snot sucker they send you home from the hospital with) and Caroline was not all too delighted, but her nose was clearer. I tried and failied at putting her back to sleep, she pretty much just kept sucking on my arm, so we decided to feed her again. We figured it had been a long day, she missed a meal and could probably use a little extra comfort too.

Snack did the trick, she was out again.

It was the good kind of sleep, with her head back and mouth open, but when I tried to get her back into her crib she woke with a start as soon as her head hit the mattress. There was more cuddling, more soothing, same head back mouth open routine, with the same result. Sleep was elusive. So I held her, rocked her, checked my email, read boston.com, tried again... no dice. At 3AM, after hours of alternating between holding, soothing, sleeping, waking, crying, shhing, I said screw it and cuddled up with her in bed, where she slept soundly until 6:00. I was nodding off holding her and we were at least safer in bed than standing. Caroline had a little breakfast and passed right out again until 8AM.

Steve was there all dressed for work, telling me to go back to sleep, but how could I she was up for the day. I handed her the little bear and rolled over blinking my eyes open, straining to see the clock.

Now that I think of it, I most certainly did tell him he owed me. I knew he had to work on Monday while I was technically though not entirely off so why not spare one of us? I wish I could have napped when she did, but I had to come into the office to do some last minute planning for an event happening Wednesday.

There you have it, your little Quentinesque backwards story.


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