My Achilles Tendon Hurts Just Thinking About It

My daughter is no stranger to sleeping in unconventional spots. When she was younger, it was the rule rather than the exception that I would find her bed empty when I checked on her during sleeptimes. She has slept on the floor, the changing table, the glider and in her laundry basket. She has created nests made out of toys, snuggling down amid the bears and puppies and baby dolls.

But those days are mostly behind us now. These days, the laughs are derived from HOW she is sleeping, not where. That kid of mine can find some unbelievable positions to contort her body into. Every night as we go to bed, we creep in and giggle at that night's acrobatics.

Tonight, Neil went up to bed ahead of me. A few minutes later, while I puttered around on the computer in the basement, I received a text from Neil. "Sophie is not up here." As you might imagine, my first horrible thoughts ran to the likes of alien abduction or the David Bowie goblin king spiriting her away. But then I got another text, with a photo, which I opened about the time I hit the stairs to the 2nd floor. Neil had found her...under our bed.

Notice her arm up on the bed frame.

 


According to her, she had gone into our room looking for the iPad to get in some late night Power Ranger viewing on the Netflix app. When she couldn't find it because I had it with me downstairs, she dragged several pillows and blankets in and climbed under our bed. In protest? Perhaps she went under there to lay in wait so she could ambush me and run off with the iPad. I don't really know. When asked about her motives, she was not exactly forthcoming. Having a conversation with a preschooler in the best of circumstances is like talking to a person who's had seven, maybe eight, Irish Carbombs, talking to one who is half asleep ups the frustration quotient exponentially.

I saw Pet Sematery as a teenager, and Gage under the bed has haunted me ever since. So while we got a good laugh out of it tonight, I will say this: if that child of mine ever thinks to lurk under my bed and scare me with an ankle grab as I walk by, I'm not sure I can be responsible for my actions.

The Best Cure For Insomnia Is A Monday Morning

Waking up after a second night of taking Melatonin.

Backing up just a couple of steps. I've been having trouble sleeping. Which isn't exactly true, I sleep just fine. I can sleep for hours and hours. No, I've been having trouble falling asleep. I will read a book or play on my iPhone for awhile, but I generally turn out my light at a not ridiculous hour. And then I lay there. Sometimes for hours.

I've worked the lifestyle angle. I avoid caffeine in the evening. I work out. No good. I've tried taking the over the counter stuff, Tylenol PM, Simply Sleep, etc, and it helps, but it leaves me so groggy in the morning. I have to be there for my daughter in the morning. And there means that I can't be only barely functional.

I've thought about going to my doctor and asking for a prescription, but I am reluctant to admit defeat. I can conquer this. Somehow I feel like admitting I am having trouble with something like this means there is something bigger wrong with me and I definitely don't want to admit that.* So no doctor.

So I turned to my favorite source for alternative medicine: Twitter. And Twitter's advice? Melatonin.

This morning I awoke from my second night of melatonin aided sleep. And I feel good. I feel rested. I feel awake. I'm not saying its for everyone, and it has only been two nights, so hardly definitive proof, but so far it seems to be working for me.

Gosh, now what will I write about?

*Of course, here I am admitting it to you and everyone. Irony, I know.

More Complaining. Just Stop Reading Now If You're Looking For Upbeat, Funny Stories.

This was going to be the triumphant "Yay, I didn't yell at my daughter all day yesterday!" post. And that is totally true. But.There's always a but, isn't there?

First the success. Yesterday. Yesterday, Neil went in to work late and he let me sleep in. That's the first and probably most important thing. I got an extra hour of sleep. Which still only brought me up to about 6 hours for the night, but that's better than 5, right? So my outlook on the day was a lot better than most other days. Sophie was mostly agreeable all day. We had one or two minor squabbles, but generally good times. I made a conscious effort to be in the moment, aware of my actions and in control. And it worked. I didn't yell at her once. Okay, once I barked out NO when she wouldn't stop digging in the freshly potted baby basil plant after repeated instructions and attempts at engaging her in other activities, but other than that teensy transgression, we did great. And I'll tell you what, I felt pretty good about it all. So good that when Neil had to work until 8, I wasn't even really phased by it.

But then there is today.

Awakened at 5:45am, which is WAY earlier than I can stand, after another shit night of sleep, punctured by a strange nightmare where I was on board a haunted Titanic while ghosts hurled flatware at me. That sounds funny now but it had me awake and shaking at 4am. But I still wasn't going to let it ruin a good thing. Sophie gave me some fight changing her diaper, but I took Lou's advice and made her laugh with some thigh gooses and belly raspberries and that helped.

We came downstairs and had breakfast, which was not without its challenges, but I kept my cool. Afterward, we went down to the tv/play room, got our play on for a bit, then I turned on the idiot box with the hopes that I could catch a couple of zzz's while Sophie enjoyed a viewing of Cars. This lasted just long enough for me to doze off in the recliner. Then she climbed up on me and kicked me in the face. That's right. She kicked me. IN THE FACE. And the screaming commenced. So much for calm, cool and collected.

Maybe I should take up yoga.

Monday Funday

Things have been kind of crazy around here. The plague struck our house, attacking first Neil, then myself and finally our dear little Bean. For Neil and I, it was the regular old flu, but Sophie got that AND a stomach bug. Which was awful on sooo many levels. I won't go into details because no one needs their meals ruined, the way ours was, okay that's a tiny detail right there. Grossed out yet? Anyway, we seem to all be back in good health, although there are some lingering stuffy noses and such.

I went to the gym this morning for the first time in 10 days. That's the longest stretch I've missed in over a year. It felt weird and great to get back there. The kids in the daycare shouted Sophie's name when we walked in. I know she was happy to get out of the house. We've all had cabin fever. The worst of Neil and I's illness came during some really, really beautiful weather here, so our poor darling was cooped up inside with us while the rest of the world was out enjoying.

Finally, I had another bloggy get together this past Saturday, Momzshare. It was put on by Jennifer of Hip as I Wanna Be and Lara of Chicken Nuggets of Wisdom. They did a fabulous job. Held at Jennifer's house, which was exactly the right size for the number of people attending, it was intimate and comfortable. There was oodles of great food and wine and the company simply couldn't be beat. This will be a quadrannual (4x a year) event and I can't wait until the next one!

In the meantime, I have a pile of stuff to do. We are still catching up from us all being sick which is why I've been so scarce in bloggyland. I'll be back to normal operations soon. I hope. In the meantime, here's a cute picture to tide you over. It seems my daughter's laundry basket sleeping days are not behind us.

They Really Are Angellic When They Sleep

You know, literally.

*For those of you that follow me on Twitter, you probably saw this yesterday. For those of you that aren't, WHY NOT? Ahem. I am only occasionally offensive and sometimes I even have downright witty things to say. Now. Go forth and FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER.

Sleepnanigans

For the last year or so, naptimes and bedtimes have been a breeze. Sophie happily climbed into bed and went right to sleep and then slept either for a full 2-3 hour nap or through the night. I contend that this easiness is to make up for the absolute hell that were sleepytimes for the first 15 months of her life.

But things haven't been so great lately. Thanks to a nasty cough and a subsequent ear/sinus infection, Sophie hasn't been sleeping well. More significantly, though, she hasn't been going to sleep well. She cries and screams. Generally, I leave her in her room and within a few minutes she will tire herself out and fall asleep. Unfortunately, she rarely falls asleep in her bed. Her favorite spot is on the glider. It's where I nursed her for 20 months and it is where I read to her now.

Most days, once I am sure she is asleep, I will creep into her room and as delicately as possible move her to her bed. I don't have empirical proof that she will not sleep as long or as well in the chair, but I hate to think of her contorted into strange positions, so I risk waking her to transfer her to her bed. The good news is that nowadays she is a whole lot harder to wake than she used to be and generally sleeps through the maneuver.

So today, when she went down for her nap easily, I was grateful and optimistic that it was the beginning of a return towards her old ways. I put her down in her bed, read Goodnight Moon, tucked her in and left the room. I watched her on the monitor as she rolled around on her bed for a minute and then got out. After this I couldn't see her anymore, but I could hear her puttering around her room. At one point the radio on the clock was turned on, but turned off after a minute or two and soon all other sounds quieted. A short time later, I crept up to her room, prepared to find her in the glider.

I got a surprise when I opened the door.

She wasn't in the glider. Nor was she in the bed. Or the floor. Or the changing table. All spots she occasionally curls up. I started to get a little panicky as I looked around the room. Could she have gotten out?















But just when I was about to totally freak out, I spotted her. She had found a cozy new spot.






















My sweet little laundry bean.

Freedom

We've crossed into dangerous territory in the Land of Bean.

This morning, Sophie began banging on her door at the unholy hour of 5:30am. This is at least an hour earlier than her usual, which was in itself a half an hour earlier than we had gotten used to. And I am no morning person. I would prefer waterboarding to being awakened before the sun. The last thing I wanted to do was pry myself out of the warm, soft embrace of my 500 thread counts, but when your kid is banging on their door with all their might, you get up.

So just as I was finally dragging myself out of bed, I heard the click of her door and the pounding of little feet as Sophie freed herself from the confines of her room and came running into our room. We knew that she could open some of the other doors in the house, but so far the antique-y ones on the bedrooms were beyond her capabilities. I thought it might be a one time thing, though, that I hadn't latched the door all the way the night before.

Wrong.

Tonight, when I put her down, she waited until I walked out before climbing up onto the end of her bed, from which she dangled herself off in just such a way as to get a couple of fingers on the doorknob and open the door. And just like that, she was free. I saw all of this on the crib cam, while I stood just outside her door, after which I pounced into her room with an "AHA!", catching her in the act. I called out to Neil and after a brief discussion, we got one of the doorknob cover thingies from another door to put on her inside knob.

We're both a little weirded out about essentially locking her in there, but the possibility of waking up to mini-me climbing on my head, or worse, the havoc she could wreak on other parts of the house overpowers any concerns we might have.

I'm going out to buy more doorknob covers today.

*She can scale every gate we've brought into the house, so putting one at her door isn't really an option.

Howl

I was awakend at 3am last night by a vivid nightmare. My heart pounding and my breath rapid, it took me long seconds to get my bearing. To realize that I was not in the pitch dark basement of an abandoned warehouse with malicious ghosts while possessed people walked past me mumbling inanities. As I lay there in the darkness, my brain kept playing the last terrifying minutes of my dream back in a loop. Despite Neil's comforting warmth next to me, I could not relax. I got up and went into the bathroom where I sat on the toilet, still shaking. The glaring light reassured me, drew me into its embrace.

Outside the monsters lurked. Within that bright room I was safe.

These dreams were absent from my life for a long time. They used to visit me almost every night. I was haunted. But the arrival of a beloved daughter kept those ghosts at bay. Where before I was awakened by my subconscious, now I had a living, breathing, happy lure from my slumber. A lifetime of sleeping badly finally justified. For months and months I had no dreams, good or bad. I fantasized they would never return, just one more post-baby change.

But return they have. Revelations that do not reveal, they torment and tantalize me. Are they symbols, representations of aspects of my life? Are they just what they seem, an overactive imagination finally given the gas to run at full throttle? I revisit the images throughout the day, chewing on them like a canker sore, painful and satisfying.

I don't know how to make them stop. Not even really sure I want them to. They are my burden, but I relish a strange joy in them. These dreams are bizarre and fantastical and sometimes horrifying but they are me. At the core. They are me.

Nightime Rituals

I love sleeping with my husband. No this isn't that post. I don't mean in that sexy, sexy way. I love curling up next to his body. We aren't cuddlers, but some part of our bodies is almost always touching. A hand to a shoulder, a foot to a calf. Having this nighttime companion is one of the true blessings of marriage. The last thing we do every single night before we settle down to sleep is kiss and say I LOVE YOU. Even when we're mad. It is our ritual. Then we each roll to our sides of the bed. Neil puts on his eye mask and I settle in for some reading.

I am a troublesome sleeper. Nighttime is not the right time for me. I much prefer to get my z's during daylight hours. Unfortunately, my lifestyle (read: a morning person toddler. Why me, god, why?) does not permit this, so I attempt to conform. This means that while I lay down at the same time as my husband, it is usually hours before I fall asleep. The upside to this is that I get in some good reading time. The downside is that no matter what time I go to bed, the child is up at 6:30, raring to go. Most of the time, despite my nocturnal tendencies, I get by. There are often naps involved, but whatever it takes to get through the day, I always say.

Last night, I was awakened at 3am by my bladder, because if it's not the child, it's gotta be something. After a dark trip to the bathroom, I returned to bed and lay there. And lay there. And lay there. Sleep would not find me.

This went on for at least an hour, during which time I wished like anything that I could just turn on the light and read. But Neil is a light sleeper, hence the eye mask when I am reading at bedtime. If I were to turn the light on it would wake him up, something I am loathe to do, because if I am a bad morning person, he is a bad woken-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night person. So I lay there. And composed blog posts in my head. A frustrating activity because in that moment I am creating the blog version of War and Peace but when I attempt to recreate it the next day I cannot reconstruct the perfect phrasings that flowed so easily the night before.

It is these times that I miss the single lifestyle. I miss not worrying about waking anyone up when I can't sleep. I miss being able to roam about the entire bed. I miss being able to wrap myself up in all of the covers. Or conversely to sleep on top of them.

But the truth is that these moments of nostalgia are fleeting. Even as I wished I could turn on the light, my eyes were getting heavy. I stretched my leg out and hooked my foot over Neil's ankle. Asleep, as when we are awake, we are connected. I'll trade a few dark, sleepless hours for that any day.

Funny How Things Go

We stood on the front porch of our house, the morning summer sun shining in our eyes. My grandmother was there to mark the occasion. It was my first day of kindergarten. The camera came out and pictures were taken to remember the "big girl's" first day of school. I was the happiest, proudest kid around.

I didn't know it then, but we were standing on a precipice.

In a matter of weeks, my parents would separate. My sister and I would leave with our mother for a new life in another town. I can't say that those days were easy for any of us. The transition to divorced is rarely smooth. Even the word is ugly in my mouth. It is bitter and grisly.

There is a long, unpleasant story that follows all of that. Fights and tears. Relationships that will never be what they might have been. There are wounds that will never heal. But much of that story is not mine to tell and I have no desire to draw blood in this way.

For a long time, it was just the three of us. My mom christened us The Butts Sisters, in part because of a familial tendency towards prominent posteriors, as yet unfulfilled in the younger members of the group,* and part because at night the three of us would snuggle into bed together, rubbing our little butts together.

Mostly, my sister and I would take turns sleeping with our mom. She didn't have a big bed and one young girl sleeping with her was likely as much as could be tolerated. But it was not unusual that the girl whose night it was to sleep alone somehow found her way into the big bed. Snuggling up with my sister and mother brought me a comfort and belonging that I can't describe.

****************************
When she was a newborn, Sophie slept in a co-sleeper bassinet attached to our bed. Occasionally I would bring her in to our bed next to me, but I was generally too afraid of rolling onto her or smothering her, so she spent most nights in her own little space. We have tried a few times since those early days to have her sleep with us, but every time was a failure. She wriggled around like a fish out of water, all arms and legs in tender spots.

However, while she has been sick this past week, I have brought Sophie in to sleep with me almost every night. At first, it was awkward, we didn't know how to sleep around each other. She couldn't find just the right nook to curl into and I couldn't figure out how to cuddle her without putting at least one limb painfully to sleep. But after a few nights, a rhythm was established. She found her spot and I discovered an addiction to laying next to my sleeping daughter.

All these years, I thought my mom had allowed us to sleep with her. That she was just doing the motherly duty and comforting us when we were scared or lonely. It didn't really occur to me that there was happiness to be found on the other end. The tunnel vision of children, even grown ones, I suppose.

It's funny how your perceptions change when you become a parent. How the things that seemed one way were, in fact, very different. While these past days with my sick child have been rough, let there be no confusion on one fact. I get every bit as much out of our snuggle times as my daughter, maybe more.

*Don't worry, time would prove the nickname very appropriate in my case, far less so in my skinny sister.

Good Mornings - Updated

We had a breakthrough today. For the first time, Sophie woke up from her nap and instead of screaming and pounding on her door until someone came to rescue her, she did one "hey I'm up" pound and then quietly played with her toys. How awesome is that?

There are plenty of toys, books and other distractions for her in her room, so no shortage of things to keep her occupied. Let's keep our fingers crossed that this carries over into the mornings, mmkay. Because this mommy isn't loving getting up at 4:45am. Not loving it at all.

Update: We were awakened at the stroke of 4:50 by our child's wails. Not at her door, however. (GOOD) We laid in bed for a minute hoping she would go back to sleep, but no. (BAD) Neil says, we better go in there, it worries me that she's not at the door. How crazy is that? We long for her to stop banging on the mothertruckin' door and when she does, we worry something is wrong. Of course, she was fine. However, despite a little drinkypoo and some cuddling, she would not go back to sleep.

I made the decision to bring her into our bed. (Will I regret this one day?) On many other occasions, we have tried to lay down with her, but she would never settle down. I wasn't optimistic that today would be any different. It was. She curled up next to me and fell right asleep. Of course, it was the fitful, restless sleep of a toddler, so while she probably got the best sleep of her life, I was awakened every 10 minutes by a shifting, rolling, kicking 19 month old. The upside is that I did get another hour of sleep. Was it good sleep? Oh hecks no. But I'll take whatever I can get.

The Bedtime Dance

The Escape

















The Booty Shake


























The Chase

















Finally!

Come Back Tomorrow

Sorry, I don't have anything today. It might be because I got to sleep through the night for the first time in two months! So this is what (mostly) well rested feels like. Ahhh. Not to worry, Sophie has turned into the nightmare version of my child, so I'll be back later with tales of her misadventures.

I'll leave you with a photo I snapped the other day while Sophie and I were out enjoying the weather. It took me about 20 pictures to get one that showed this beauty clearly. It's hardly fit for National Geographic, but this amateur is pretty happy with it. This giant bumblebee has taken up residence at the corner of our house. It just hovers in this spot all day. Staring at the wall.

Maybe she has a baby bee back at the hive that doesn't sleep through the night.

Just Another Day In Paradise

Sleep eludes me this night. She is a fickle tease that whispers in my ear and caresses my brow but will not draw me in to her embrace.

A sinus headache has ravaged my skull since Monday. No amount of painkillers or sinus medication seems capable of getting rid of it. It is a vine that runs through my head. I can cut off the tendrils, but the roots are buried deep. If I could only find the source, I could rip it out. But it hides.

Finally. Finally, the tired wins.

I am awakened after only two hours of sleep by the wails of my daughter. As usual, she wakes with a shout rather than a whimper. She does not go gently. I go into her room and change her diaper and nurse her. Usually, this will put her back to sleep. But this night, it does not work.

When I lean down to lay her back in her crib, she begins to cry. I know my girl, and I know that she will cry all night if I leave her alone. She draws on reserves deeper than mine. So I pick her back up and bounce around on my feet for awhile, cooing and shushing her. We repeat this, I put her down, she starts crying, I pick her up and walk with her, for an hour and a half. If I sit down, she squirms and tries to get down onto the ground, presumably to play, so I don't sit down. I stand. It is 3am. My head is pounding. I have only had two hours of sleep. I can't even sit down.

Finally, she goes back to sleep. It is 4am. I drag myself into bed. Despite exhaustion so overwhelming it is a struggle to put one foot in front of the other, I can not fall right back to sleep. The pounding won't stop. The last time I look at the clock it is 4:42. The next time I see it is 5:58, when the screaming starts afresh. I whimper and pull the covers over my head, but that doesn't drown out the crying so I get up.

Hours later, she finally goes down for a nap. I waste precious minutes doing chores and eating lunch before I go upstairs to lay down for a nap. By the time I doze off, she has been asleep for 45 minutes. When she wakes up 25 minutes later, I cry. I have only had 4 hours of sleep, total. I go straight into the bathroom and start the shower. While it tears at my soul to hear her cry, I just can't take it. I stand with my head under the water until it goes cold. It drowns out the sound of my child's unhappiness.

By the time Neil gets home, I am on the edge. I make dinner while he watches our child. I need those minutes of solitude. My head hurts. My heart hurts.

I finally get Sophie into bed. Mercifully, she does not fight me. But the night is not over. Neil and I argue. I don't know why. I take my frustrations out on him. Who else do I have to blame? I can't stop crying. I can't stop crying. Neil holds me while I shake. I am adrift.

At 7:45 I take two Excedrin PM and go to bed. I am asleep in minutes and do not wake until Sophie does at 5am. Despite 9 hours of sleep, I am still hopelessly tired. Luckily, the usual tricks work and she goes back to sleep until 7. While I am not whole, I am better. Sleep is my fix.

A new day begins. This one must be better. It must. It must. It must.

I hear the secrets that you keep...Part II

The sleep issues are back. FML. Although she was sleeping through the night like a champ there for a while, since she was sick last month, she has been waking up at least once a night. Not to mention that the doggamned cats wake me up at least once a night as well. It is killing me. I remember now how tired I was for that first year. ALL. THE. TIME.

Last night, she woke up at about 12:30. When I heard her crying, I moaned and sat up in bed. Neil said, "is this the first time?" I said yes. I got up and walked around the bed and looked over as Neil sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Neil: I'm sorry.

Me: It's not your fault, honey.

Neil: No, it is. I left something running in there.

Me: What?

Neil: I think there is something running in there.

Me: What. Are. You. Talking. About. (Getting scared. Visions of gremlins and ghouls scampering around flit through my overactive imagination.)

Neil: I started a program and I left it running. It probably woke her up.

Me: What? (Still not getting it.)

Neil: I started something on the computer and left it running. I probably woke her up. (Obviously there is no computer in her room, nor one anywhere close to it.)

Me: (Finally realizing that he is talking in his sleep.) ...

Me: You're right, it is your fault.

Daylight Losing Time

I hate Daylight Savings Time. Frankly, I just don't get it. It doesn't save me anything. Truth be told, it generally loses me one of my favorite things in the whole world. Sleep.

Sophie has been quite the pill lately. I'm not sure if she's teething, having a growth spurt or just being a 17-month-old. Whatever the case, my nerves are a little frayed at the moment. There is lots of crying, screaming and whining. She's a generally good natured kid, which is why this is extra frustrating for me. Until the last couple of weeks, I had never seen a tantrum. No laying on the floor kicking legs. No wriggling, writhing body when I try to pick her up.

Part of me would like to blame it on the example of the other kids at the gym. What better excuse to get me out of the gym than for the health of my daughter? But I suspect it has more to do with her age.

Another part of this phase/stage/age is that she has been getting up at the stroke of 6:08. EVERY DAY. For you morning folks out there, this might be perfect. For me, this is torture. I am the classic night owl. Which is probably why I spent 10 years bartending. I have a tough time falling asleep before midnight. Neil says, "turn the light off and you'll go to sleep." Yeah, it doesn't work that way for me. I'm not a parrot.

Regardless of what time she goes to bed, she gets up at 6:08. To bed at 6:30? Up at 6:08. Down at 9? Up at 6:08. I was hoping that with DST, she would sleep in until 7:08. My body clock would still say it's 6:08, but at least psychologically I would be fooled. I put her to bed at her usual time last night, about 7:30. However, it seems Daylight Savings can't fool my daughter.

She woke up right on time at 6:08. Arrrrgh!

Bump in the Night

At night, after the house is asleep, I lay in bed. Legs and arms tucked close to my body. One toe touching my husband, an anchor. I dare not sleep with even one appendage hanging over the edge of the bed. The monsters take refuge under the bed. They also lurk in the closet, behind the dresser and in shadowy spots. I watch the lights play on the ceiling and try not to notice the dark corners. Some nights, I can turn my head and doze off, happy thoughts keeping the creatures at bay. Others, sleep eludes me and I watch. And I listen.

When I think I can take it no more, I will lean over and switch on the video monitor for a peek at Sophie. Her sleeping form is a calming force. The unlikely positions she favors a source of entertainment. I marvel that she can sleep with her arms or legs dangling between the slats of her crib. She is singularly unconcerned with what might be lurking outside.

Her absolute certainty of her security leaves no room for these nighttime visitors. She doesn't have any monsters yet.

I hope she never does.

Would You Like Whine With That?

We got the results back from Sophie's bloodwork and, as predicted, everything is normal. Turns out she's just small. Go figure. Of course, then I start to think that maybe she's a primordial dwarf. That's what I get for watching that Oprah show.

At any rate, the sleeping thing seems to be getting better. She slept through the night three times last week and 6, count em SIX, times this week. Hallelujah! But now that I'm alert enough to focus on the bigger picture, I'm increasingly aware that we have another problem. The girl won't eat. I mean, she eats, but not nearly as much as she should and she has gotten to the point where pretty much the only thing she'll eat is YoBaby with cereal mixed in.

Before you suggest different foods, I have tried pretty much everything. She'll take one bite, if I'm lucky, and then turn her head away. At this point, I have thrown away so much food, I could have saved a whole village of those starving kids in Ethiopia my mom told me about as a kid. The doctor suggested I give her Pediasure mixed in with ice cream or something. Well, she won't eat ice cream. And Pediasure is all sugar. Sure there are healthy things in there, but her teeth will rot out from all of the sugar. We're still nursing, and she drinks cow milk at mealtimes, so I feel reasonably confident that she's getting a fair number of vitamins, but clearly she needs more.

So help me out, moms. What do I do? Please tell me that this kind of thing happens all the time. It's a phase she's going through and will grow out of it. I know that kids can be picky eaters but I just wasn't expecting it this early. Is this just another example of my own badness as a kid coming back to haunt me? For the eleventy millionth time since I got pregnant: I am SOOO sorry, Mom.

Frustration and A Little Cuteness

So, I've got nothing today. The cold that has been taunting me for the past week came back in full force last night. Luckily, Sophie decided to sleep a little better, thwarting my plans to begin the Cry-It-Out method. I think she might be on to me. As I told my mom in a VERY tearful conversation last night, I am just done. I haven't had a good night's sleep in so long, I don't remember what it is like and although the naps help me get through the day, they are no substitute for a solid 8 hours of sleep. I am increasingly on edge. Quicker to cry, quicker to yell. I am less concerned and more frustrated when Sophie cries. I mean, it almost makes me angry and I don't think that's the best attitude to have towards a child that is absolutely not doing it on purpose. Which is what I say to myself over and over when I am trying not to throw my shoe through the window in frustration. I need to go meditate or something.

Seriously, how do people get through this stuff and then decide to have another child?














Oh yeah, that's how.

Sleep Update

Because I know you've all been on the edge of your seat waiting to hear how we're fairing on the matter of sleep, I have good news. After five loooong days with much crying, from both of us, and very little sleep, I think we might finally be back on track. Sans thumbsucking. It seems that Sophie has kicked the habit. Cold turkey. It took her a few days to adjust to sleeping without her thumb but adjust she has. I was in denial at first, thinking the thumb would come back. I even tried to force her little thumb into her mouth a few times. That worked about as well as trying to thread a piece of cooked spaghetti through the eye of a needle. Which is to say, it didn't. Pretty ridiculous that I would be trying to force her back into a habit that I would likely someday be wishing she didn't have, but at 4am it seemed VERY rational.

I probably shouldn't be talking about this because as we all know, there is no better way to ruin a good thing than to talk about how great it is. So let's pretend this conversation never happened, okay? Stimulating as it's been, I don't think that will be hard for most of you.

Updated to add: She tanked her afternoon nap. I should never have said anything. The nap gods are angry with me.