In Remembrance of Sleep

I remember sleep.
The last time I saw sleep in its most complete and beautiful form was January 27th.
No joke.

This not sleeping--  I've heard it's a 3 year old thing, or 2 year old thing---  who knows.  I definitely feel as though I've written this same posting before...  But it's definitely become more and more of an issue lately.  On average I've been up with Violet around 4 times a night.  She wants water; she wants to rock with me in the rocking chair; she wants her heater on, or off.  She simply wants me, and she is most desperately sad about it.  
She comes pitter-pattering down the hallway and shows up at the foot of our bed.  She climbs in, wanting to sleep with us, then a few minutes later decides that no, actually, she wants to be back in her own bed.  So, off we go, back and forth and back and forth, two ladies wandering through the house in the wee small hours of the morning.


Well, then there is the cat.  Every time the little cat gets pushed out of place by the little girl next to me in bed, he remembers The Foot-Monster.  Some of you who own cats might know what I'm talking about.  It's our bed-feet that he attacks over and over again, with every tiny toe-move; we are finally settling back into sleep, and this lunatic cat is jumping around the bed like Zoro or Peter Pan, determined to kill whatever is under the blanket.
Friends, let me tell you, it's a three-ringed circus.  My only comfort is talking with other mommies, and realizing that this nightly charade is going on in other households.  Surely, soon, this phase will end-- right?

Sweet photo, maybe.  But those are some SERIOUS bags, mama!