I am up in the middle of the night with Lola (a truly rare occurrence these days) and even though I am REALLY tired I'm finding it's bringing back some sweet memories. I was just rocking her and singing and picturing how little she used to be. How we used to sit up in the middle of the night and watch all my terrible recorded television. How 3 hours of sleep in a row (for any of us) felt like nothing short of a miracle.
10 months is so long and so short a period of time. It seems like forever ago that our normal routine was to be up with Lola and Jack several times per night. The babies were eating every 3 (or every 2) hours and so it was our nightly ritual that Aaron would feed them around midnight and then come to bed and I would take the middle of the night feedings. If I was lucky that would mean both babies would eat around 3 am and I would be back to bed by 3:30 or so. Then he would get up with them at 5:30 or 6:00. There were many many nights when I wasn't so lucky. Lola would want to eat at 1:45. Then Jack at 3:00. Then Lola again at 4:30. If I'm this tired right now just from being up since 12:30 (it's currently 2:45) how did we ever survive?!?!
And as I type that it comes to me: that's ALL I did. Real life hadn't crept back in and the middle of the night feedings (and snuggles) were what I was doing. That was it. Eat, change diapers, sleep, and repeat (with the occasional load of laundry thrown in). Now it's back to real life (only now I have 2 small children with me). Makes me kind of miss those times. I know, I know... it was miserable at points and I was sleep deprived. But it's kind of reassuring to have your purpose so well defined. All I had to do was feed, clean, and love my family. Sweet memories indeed.