Rosa and the Rough Night

Rosa was unusually cuddly and clingy this evening, didn't really want to play outside or do much of anything besides sit on my lap. She curled up on a comforter on the floor beside my desk at about eight and started to fall asleep. I took her upstairs and put her into her pajamas, read her Makeup Mess by Robert Munsch (her current favorite bedtime book--thanks neeuqdrazil!), and put her to bed.

About an hour later I heard crying and went up to see what was wrong. "I want water, mommy!" She was still in bed, though. Usually she gets up and comes out when she wakes up at night. I got her up, and took her to the bathroom to get some water. "I don't want it. I want go to bed." I hugged her, put her back in her bed, and snuggled her until she went to sleep.

Then just a few minutes ago I heard her crying "Mommy" again. This time she was standing at the head of the stairs. "I want water, Mommy!" I picked her up: she was radiating heat. I gave her a glass of water and made her take some Motrin, and again put her back in bed with a few minutes of cuddles.

I hope she feels better in the morning, and I hope she's not coming down with anything serious.

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*sigh* I feel like I've been hit in the gut. I took Rosa out for ice cream. When I got back, there was the message on my voice mail. Why does it have to be so hard? Will we *ever* get to spend nights together? I was so sure this time it would happen for real. I let myself believe in it. I refused to listen to that voice that said "something will come up, something always comes up." And now that something did, I'm crying my eyes out.