Up at 3am

The other night, Nova was up at midnight for three hours. Her father was working a night shift. I have a back injury that I am trying to rest. For some unknown reason, she doesn’t seem to understand this.

Her almost-teenage brother, Raiden¹, whose night owl tendencies rival mine at a similar age, was awake playing games in his room.

“Elp!!” Nova pointed to the laundry basket on the rocking chair, indicating that I should take it, and everything else, off. I really didn’t want to lift much.

“Ball, ball,” she said, pointing to the big yoga ball in the corner of our bedroom. 

“Mom doesn’t bounce on the ball, remember?”

“Dadda,” she said, still pointing at the ball.

“Dadda’s at work. I’m sorry, I miss Dadda too.”

“Bro Bro!” She said, walking to our bedroom door and reaching for the handle, trying to open it. 

“Okay, I’ll text your bro bro.”

She’s awake. Can you come in here while I pee?

Yeah.

She got so excited when he walked in the room, and he swept her up and bounced her. I heard them laughing as I left the room to pee.

Raiden left soon after I returned to the room. About 30 minutes later, having exhausted her desire to cuddle and read books, she started asking to bounce again. I repeated that I couldn’t bounce. She asked for Bro Bro to come back to bounce her. I texted him again.

She’s asking for you because she wants you to bounce her. XD²

A minute later he was at the door, coming in, Nova’s eyes lighting up.

Raiden stayed for half an hour. He lifted things off the rocking chair and helped her climb into the laundry basket. He bounced her. He scooped her into the rocking chair and sat nearby while she rocked herself back and forth. He told me stories, and we talked about his birthday plans. I laid on the bed and rested my back. 

Listen, no part of me wants to be up at 1:00 a.m. with an exhausted toddler. I don’t want to have an injured back that limits what I can do with her, and I fear those nights when Jimmy’s working and Nova might wake up with me there alone, unable to take a break when my patience is shot.

But as I laid there, all three of us content, laughing, hanging out—two of us with vastly more energy than the third (me, it’s me, I’m the third)—I felt my chest swell. I felt myself smile. What a magical damn gift that our almost-teenager is willing, happy, to come in at 1:00 a.m. and hang out with me and his toddler sister. And I have to think that, on some level, our relationship fuels this. Our commitment to not controlling him, our efforts to partner with him in decisions, the fact that we don’t require him to watch his sister. And, on another level, it’s just his personality. His ease with her, his care, his tendency to silliness and desire to make her laugh. His pull to help us out, just because he wants to, because he likes to support the ones in his life that he cares about.

No, I do not want to be up at 1:00 a.m. (or midnight, or 2:00 a.m., or 3:00 a.m., when she finally fell asleep). But if I am going to be, I couldn’t think of a better way than this.

Peace Everyone,

Bria 

1. Stories about Raiden are shared with his consent.

2. Yes, I still sometimes slip into old millennial, emoji-free, habits of texting. This was one of those times.