Where am I?

Since Loud Baby's decided to join our family of two, we have had quite a few sleeping arrangements.

In short, we went from co-sleeping to Loud Baby having her own bedroom and sleeping in her own crib.

With an extra bed/ugly mattress on the floor for night wakings where I can nurse her. 

We have also moved to a different state at a certain point.

And then traveled again to Loud Baby's grandparents to a different country where we are spending a couple of months.

That's a lot of different beds and mattresses and futons and couches. 

We have, however, religiously followed the bedtime routine we have worked so hard to establish over the months which involves dinner, story (optional), bath and nursing. Followed by placing Loud Baby in her crib.

When she wakes up during the night, I go to her.

Take her out of her crib.

Place her on the bed/mattress and nurse her back to sleep.

Return baby to crib.

Return zombie Mommy to her bedroom.

Or not.

Sometimes we both continue sleeping on the bed/mattress.

There are even times when I lie down with her for nursing and I wake up 45 minutes later and she's sleeping soundly. Still latched on. Great.

But more often than not, I wake up in my own bed thinking:

"Where am I again? Which bedroom? Which apartment? Which country?".

"Where's the baby?"

My eyes pop awake after realizing I don't remember if I returned her to her crib.

"Did I leave her on the bed and just walk out??"

"Is she right here all pancake-y because I have rolled over her?"

And then I focus and specifically recall picking her up horizontally as I always do and putting her down in her bed.

Ironically, the hardest part for me is returning to my own room.

There are no steps to climb.

No long corridors.

But everything is so complicated at night.

You need to turn around and then open the door.

And then close it.

Walk 6 steps.

Repeat thing with the door.

Crash into bed.

Pull on covers.

Resume sleep.

All the while fragments of the previous dream flash through my head.

I am awake but in a different way.

I begin a thought and finish with a different half of another idea.

Mutant thoughts, I call them.

Still, some ideas are quite good. 

Discussion worthy.

Of course, I remember nothing in the morning.

Except the exact number of times Loud Baby summoned me. 

Unless it's more than 3. Then it just seems like the whole process was an all-nighter and I probably ended up on the ugly mattress in the morning anyway.