Bedtime

Eleanor is becoming her own little person. The further she gets away from her last round of chemo, the more her personality shines through, the more her idiosyncrasies show and the more we realize who she is.

She is a jerk.

I like to think of it as the golden doodle rule. The golden doodle is a dog created through the simplest principle: take two dogs with good qualities, mix them together and they will make a super-dog. It will have the personality and good looks of a lab, and the brains and non-shedding coat of a poodle, all in a 50lb package. Sounds great on paper, but what you actually get is a giant, stupid, often ill-tempered and odd looking dog. And the non-shedding aspect (the main draw for this type of dog) is just as variable as any of these other traits.

When two people get together and decide to make babies, they delude themselves into thinking that their babies will inherit the best of them. We certainly did. Eleanor was supposed to have Kris's hair and Germanic sensibilities and my eye-shape. Instead, she inherited Kris's fussiness and Restless Leg Syndrome and my pig-headedness and general douchebaggery.

Oh Em Gee she is a handful.

It has taken us (on average) two hours to get her to sleep every night. The caterwauling and shrieking starts around 5pm, and we try to get her into bed before the actual tears start to flow. She sleeps in our bed because you can't sleep train a baby with so many dangerous tubes coming out of her body, and when she gets angry, you KNOW she's going to be yanking on one of them! So she is fully indulged and in our marital bed. Once she gets into bed, she takes F.O.R.E.V.E.R to actually to get to sleep. Tonight was no exception. She flailed about for an hour until I finally pulled her onto my chest. Her fatigue and general weakness made her unable to resist my shushing and I could feel her little body start to yield. Yes! Gravity for the win! I slid her back down onto the bed and pulled her in close. My heart melted a little when her quick breaths started to slow down, and it broke completely when her big, dark, not-brown eyes opened wide as a last-ditch attempt to stay awake. They hovered there for a second - open and alert - before slowly closing for the day. Ah, evolution. It took everything in my power to not smother her in kisses.

I lay there for a moment with her wrapped up in my arms, and contemplated my escape. Don't wake the beast.

Her body twitched and she let out a little sigh. Puppy dog dreams of chasing rabbits.

My heartbeat next to hers and all her baby glory.

What was I saying?

Right. I've got to get away.

Where was I going? And in what hurry?

I'm here.

Let sleeping dogs lie.