Nightime Confusion

We've had some rough nights recently because both babies have nasty colds. One baby has been sleeping with me most of each night. It's very uncomfortable. I don't know how other women bed-share with their babies. I keep waking up with a sore back.

Last night, or rather this morning around 4:00 AM, I was repeatedly roused from sleep by a baby thrashing around, latching on, and snacking. I kept trying to get away, but the baby would find me again. I had a vague idea that the baby needed to be moved somewhere else. The sidecar crib, perhaps. But there was a baby in the crib. I could see her. M was in the Boppy bouncy seat off Pete's side of the bed, so I couldn't put the baby there.

From then on it was all downhill as my powers of reasoning further deteriorated.

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Damn, how'd we get three babies? Have we always had three babies? I guess so.

*Slip back into dreamland*

Again?! She won't leave me alone! I have to move her somewhere. But there's nowhere to put her. No, wait, she's in the crib. So then who's this girl baby next to me? Oh shit, I can't remember my other daughter's name!

*Blessed unconsciousness*

She can't possibly be hungry again, this mystery baby. No... I only have ONE daughter... so confused...

*Ah, sweet, sweet sleep*

Okay, this baby really has to be dealt with. I was just starting to dream again. If I could move her... oh, her diaper is really fat in the front. She's probably uncomfortable. That's why she keeps trying to eat and is squirming around. And this has to be my daughter, because we only have two babies.

"Pete. Pete, E needs her diaper changed. It's really squishy. She keeps moving around; I think it's bothering her."

I sit up, scoop E up and hand her off to Pete, then fall back into the bed and immediately drift into the darkness. Seconds later (okay, minutes, but it sure seemed like seconds), Pete returns with the baby and asks, "Where do you want him?"

"Put her in the Boppy." Wait, why is he coming over here? "Put her in the Boppy! Oh...wait, is that M?!"

"Yeah."

Oh crap! I've been wrong this whole time. "Whoever the hell that is, put 'em in the Boppy!"

Not knowing what's going on at 4:00 in the morning makes me very grumpy.

Then I fell asleep and had a nice, long dream in which George Lucas was trying to kill me. With a gun. He was waiting outside the apartment I grew up in and said he was "very disappointed" in me. It was so unnerving that when I woke up, heart racing, I had to also wake Pete and have him reassure me. Then I had to go check on Moo to make sure he was okay, and that no plaid-shirted, grey-bearded men were lurking in my house.