And whilst I'd like to be able to tell you all she needed was a good night's sleep, it turns out the opposite is true. A stiff but very happy giggly afternoon and evening turned into a stiff but desperately miserable night for Mog. Her body fought off her evening meds without any noticeable loosening of the tight muscles, fought off sedatives and painkillers, and eventually at 1.30AM finally submitted to the forces of diazepam.
So as Little Fish slumbered sweetly (a sight usually guaranteed to make Incandescent Woman fade from fierce fury to gentle glow), Mog and I walked up and down, rocked, stretched, and tried to find a comfortable position together. Even the diazepam only unknotted bits of her - but thankfully the unknotted bits were just enough to let her slip into sleep at last. And as we walked and rocked and sat and patted, and as I hummed and whispered and rocked some more, Incandescent Woman packed her bags and went to find someone with more energy.
And now it's morning, and our carer will be here in ten minutes; a blessed half an hour later than normal. Two girls sleeping sweetly, although as I write this Mog has just gone from sleep to gasping twisting arching seizure - not at all sweet really. Only time for one girl to be dressed before the school bus comes this morning; I'm thinking it's probably Little Fish's turn today.