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Emily feels her own eyes droop with exhaustion, which is so not the point of this.
The record player has a jazz disc on it, something soft and instrumental in the way it's supposed to help her baby sleep. The white noise machine is on, Hazel couldn't sleep without it, but Olivia seems to ignore its existence.
Olivia is the one refusing to fall asleep. She has her own pattern, her own volitions, yet one that doesn't work too well when at around five in the afternoon she starts getting grumpy because she skipped her nap. If you want her to fall asleep at seven, she can't take a nap at five, though your scheduled nap at eleven in the morning doesn't please her, it's when she mostly wants to stay awake.
Emily sways from side to side, rocking Liv in an attempt to get her to sleep but, if she's being honest, mostly to keep herself awake.
Hazel had been sick the night before, what looked like a simple, however annoying, bug. Emily let you sleep, saying you should save your energy for the morning since she had a day off, a Friday where her team had been practically forced to take due to the insane work hours they'd been pulling recently.
So, she stayed up with Hazel, who is, miraculously, catching up on sleep right now. The seven year old looked a sight, her eyes heavy with the sleep she'd missed, her nose red from crying when she wouldn't stop feeling a tummy ache. Thankfully, she'd gotten better at around four am, then got up at nine when Emily tried to get her to eat some breakfast, and was now fast asleep again.
Olivia, of course, is being stubborn. She'd had a great night, hadn't woken up once, and also had a great breakfast that you provided before leaving for work. Now, all Emily has to do is get her to sleep so you won't have another moody child in the afternoon.
Olivia babbles, getting Emily's attention, “mama!”
“Yes, baby?” She murmurs against her forehead, breathing in her scent.
She babbles some more, unintelligible words now, her own little baby language. Emily hums in response, still rocking and swaying. When Olivia squeals excitedly, she sighs.
“Okay, Liv, this is not working, hm?”
Olivia looks up at her mother, then gives her a toothy, well, with four little teeth, anyway, grin. Emily can't help but smile back.
She sits on the couch, Olivia in her lap facing her way and looks at her baby's perfect face, “why do you hate sleeping?”
Liv babbles again, joining the conversation.
“It's odd because your mommy is the sleepiest person I know,” she muses, laying back against the arm of the couch and keeping Olivia sitting on her stomach. “And she can get you to fall asleep like no one else can.”
She squeezes Liv's cheek softly, smiling when her little girl giggles.
“You know, I'm probably gonna fall asleep and you'll stay awake and take over the house.” Closing her eyes for a second, she curses internally at how they burn. This is ridiculous, she used to stay up all night all the time in her previous job. “But you can't take care of your sister by yourself, so I have to stay up.”
Olivia gets tired of the conversation, probably, and lays down against her mother's chest, snuggling in. Emily sighs, finally relaxed.
“Thank you, baby, you're the sweetest,” she whispers against her baby's head.
Emily grabs her phone from the coffee table, determined to not let sleep overtake her, and continues to scratch Liv's back softly, knowing from her breathing that she hasn't quite fallen asleep yet.
One second she's scrolling through her emails and the next, she's waking up from your touch on her shoulder, deeply confused.
Emily startles, touching her own chest before she realizes you have a still sleeping Olivia in your arms, then relaxes. Frowning, she looks up at you. You, who's smiling amusedly at her.
“What time is it?” She asks, her voice rough in that way you love.
“Just past twelve. You should go sleep in the bed, I'll put her in her crib,” you coax her, squeezing her shoulder before she can protest that she doesn't need it.
When you come back, after placing Olivia down and checking on Hazel, who wakes for a brief moment before turning over and promptly falling back asleep, she's already under the covers. You sit next to her.
“What are you doing home?” Emily asks, her eyes red with tiredness.
“Cancelled my appointments, I couldn't stay longer today.”
“We were fine,” she protests half-heartedly. You kiss her cheek.
“Hazel's sick, you're exhausted from last night. I couldn't leave you taking care of our sick baby and our littlest baby who I know hates sleeping in the afternoons.”
She smiles back at you, grabbing your hand next to her head and squeezing. “Thank you for coming home.”
You leave a kiss on her lips, “sleep, now. I'll fix lunch and wake you up to eat soon.”
“I gave Haze some tylenol at nine,” she murmurs, already halfway to sleep. “But I think her fever's gone now.”
You caress her hair, pushing it away from her face softly. Hazel's fever is gone, thankfully, and you hope whatever she has hasn't spread to your youngest, even if you know that's almost impossible.
Looking at Emily, though, the rest isn't important right now. Both of your children are safe under one roof, and your wife is sleeping soundly, looking so relaxed you can barely believe it, so everything is fine in your book.