My two year old has a stuffy nose. She woke up last night at 3 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. Then she woke my five year old, who normally would grumble a bit, then roll over and ignore the disturbance, but instead said, in a terribly awake voice, "mama, you're home!" Clearly not enough mama time lately. It's been all of three days, and rehearsals are already taking their toll. She was ready to chat. So I ping-ponged for a bit between them:
—WAH!
—Try some Vicks.
—Mama, I need to go potty.
—Ok, go quietly. Don't wake
your sister,
—WAH!
—How about a diaper change?
—Mama, I need a glass of
water.
—I see a vicious cycle forming.
—WAH!
—It's ok, sweetie.
—Mama,
the baby is awake.
—Yes, I'm aware of that.
In the end I delivered baby to my husband — my spot in the big bed was obviously available — and curled up with the five year old. An hour later she kicked me out. I checked in with husband and baby, who were blissfully sprawled, so I crawled in baby's toddler bed and slept under her ¾-size blanket.
This morning was bleary. It didn't help that Mixed Blood has stopped providing coffee because no one ever washed their cups. I swear, we're worse than kindergartners. Actually, we really are worse than kindergartners; my daughter cleans more at her Montessori preschool than I do most days.
We completed table work today, so my days at rehearsal are going to get shorter. I did two scene rewrites late last night, and one of them still isn't working right. At this point I think I need to step back and get some perspective on the whole. We've talked this play into little tiny bite-size pieces, and now Risa and the actors and the designer get to start putting it all together again. And I need to finish my Playwrights' Note for the program; maybe that'll get my mind back in the big picture. If not, one of my daughters will wake me up at 3 a.m., and I'll lie awake and mull, and something will come to me. I think half the play was written in 3 a.m. epiphanies. No wonder all the characters are sleep deprived.