I think most of us have at least glimpsed that infamous book Go the **** to Sleep in the bookstores, even if we haven’t read it. I will admit that that is very much how I felt last night when Elizabeth woke up screaming at 12-something in the morning and continued to scream whenever it was attempted to put her back down to bed. My nerves and strength were taxed, both on her end and on the end that Daddy was getting annoyed, too, when, I tried to let her put herself back down to bed. Complete and total failure, even though she was plainly exhausted. So it was a few hours and the plying of every trick and strategy I knew in the book – medicine for her teething, changing to a clean diaper, a bottle, changing position for rocking, humming/singing – none of it working. Eventually, I cuddled her tight against me and she finally passed out and stayed down while I lugged myself wearily off to bed where I continued to have trouble sleeping for the rest of the night. Of course, she began whimpering and vocalizing around 6am. I will admit that I refused to get out of bed until at least 7am and left her to her own devices until she decided she absolutely wanted out and started yelling.
And, all morning, it was pretty much the same tired refrain: “Go […] to sleep!” Ugh! Worn out!
I’ve been trying to think of something to whine about today and while there are quite a few things I could whine about – sleep training, teething (at least one more new tooth is coming in), wanting time to myself, eight hours of straight sleep, a night out on the town with friends and no baby worries for a night – I don’t necessarily feel right about it today. No, I just don’t. So I’ll skip on it today, if that’s OK with you.
Here’s a cute picture to soften the blow.
Elizabeth sleeping through the night has recently become a thing of the past. Over the past couple of weeks, she has gone back to waking up once a night every night, between the hours of 2:30 and 5:00am. Or, as it is in my mind, between ouch and boing, to quote a favorite movie (“White Christmas”). *sigh*
I was so proud when she started sleeping through the night on a regular basis. Not that I’m not proud of her now; I mean, she’s starting to walk for pity’s sake, and imitates quite well. Popping her lips, clucking her tongue, wiggling around and grinning. But I still hate stupid o’clock. The last few nights, I have been so tired as to be cross-eyed when I get up to give her a bottle and put her back to sleep.
Come on, kiddo. Sleeping through the night is awesome, I promise!
I don’t feel like whining today. My daughter is safe and warm and happy, tomorrow is Thanksgiving with the family, and I have everything I need.
Nah, I don’t feel like whining today. 🙂 Today, I am just thankful.
Fewer times have made it more clear to me that I take a backseat now than the last few days. Last weekend, I came down with a horrible sinus infection. Normally, I would get antibiotics from the doc as soon as possible and then camp out in bed or on the couch for a few days through the worst of it. Ben would check on me, bring me something to eat, make sure I ate it, etc. I would be taken care of for a little while.
Not the case.
I have an eleven-month-old daughter who doesn’t understand when Mommy’s face feels like she’s been punched by Superman, or who quirks her back lifting her growing girl. She doesn’t understand that Mommy didn’t sleep last night because she couldn’t breathe. She doesn’t understand all that. All she knows is that she wants her bottle and “Ma!” isn’t moving fast enough. All she knows is that she wants to mess with the laptop computer and “Ma” said no and she dislikes that word. She’s a baby and needs taking care of and I’m the one to do it.
I take care of her, just as my mom took care of me even when she was feeling poorly or downright ill. I get up in the middle of the night, doing my best not to sneeze or cough while I feed her and rock her back to sleep, just as my mother did with me. But, in the midst of it, all I want is MY mother to take care of ME. Or, more accurately, I would love for her to be here to take Elizabeth and handle her so I can cocoon myself in my bed until the plague passes, to give me some quiet and rest and sleep.
That may seem entirely selfish and people remind me that, soon enough, it’ll be me that is desperately wanted when Elizabeth is ill. And I’ll be there to help her blow her nose, give her her medicine, stroke her hair, and bathe her forehead. It doesn’t stop the desire for a little time for my own recovery right now, but Mom is a job that doesn’t come with prescribed days off. So I’m doing the best I can and praying all the time that Elizabeth doesn’t end up with this infection because to see my girl, so small and young, feeling this miserable, THAT would break my heart.
My baby girl is growing up too fast! Yesterday, she took two steps on her own! Her first attempt at walking! She’s almost eleven months old. Where did my tiny little bundle go? Keep growing, Bizzy baby, but don’t grow too quickly, OK? Please?
Author’s Note: Because everyone deserves the chance to whine once in a while, and Moms who have it easy all the time just don’t exist and we need to be reminded of that.
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Ever see the logo for the Mutant Enemy, INC., production company after a TV show? You know, the one with the zombie-esque monster moving across the screen going, “Grr! Argh!”? That’s how I felt when I was shaken out of the first good sleep of the night last night by Elizabeth whining in her crib at 3:30am. I shuffled my half-dead self to the kitchen, made the bottle, got some medicine because I think she’s teething her top two front teeth now, and headed back to her room. Thankfully, it all was fairly simple and she went back down with minimal protestations eventually, turning herself onto her stomach as I put her down in her crib again.
Have I mentioned that I HATE stupid o’clock? However, Elizabeth did make up for it by sleeping in until 7:30 this morning. So…yay for a bottle with rice cereal in it at 3:45am, I guess.