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Sweet Little Pie

At times it seems the littlest Pie is a grumpy old man in an almost 3 year old body. Its awesome because it always makes me laugh and not so awesome sometimes because well, he’s a grumpy puss a lot. But he can also be the sweetest little thing. 

Tonight I’m not feeling so great. I’m achy, cold, and my nose is a leaky faucet and let’s add in cramps for added fun. I decided to get the two smaller kids in jammies and in my bed to snuggle and watch a movie. Big sister fell asleep quickly but my not my grumpy old man. He snuggled next to me for a bit and stroked my cheek then he yawned and before he rolled over he put his tiny, warm hand under my chin until and whispered “psst, love you mama”. 

I mean I just don’t even know where he came from. He’s amazing. My Sweet Little Pie. Moments like these make me think I’m not completely failing as a parent. He had to learn that from someone! 

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The Battle For My Bed

Ridiculous. When I say that I mean me. I’m ridiculous. The sole responsibility for my daughter’s need to be in my bed is my fault. Entirely.

I don’t know if it was because she was a girl or because she was this teeny tiny peanut of toddler I just couldn’t let her sleep by herself. And now I’m paying for it. Don’t get me wrong, I am ok with the occasional nighttime wander in but she is in here almost every night. I was a sucker. I used to let her fall asleep in my bed because it was easier than me lying on her floor while she fell asleep. Then later half lying in and out of her toddler bed. Then much later hanging off the edge of her twin bed. Good grief.

Then for about a year, she was falling asleep in my bed and I was moving her. That was working until one day it wasn’t. I would pick her up asleep and she’d say, “what are you doing?” like she’d been awake the whole time. Some nights she’d let me move her but then wander back in an hour later. Or I’ll move her and she’ll cry and I can’t deal with that because well A. I have a full-time job, and B. I have two other kids. It was more important at the time for us all to get some sleep.

She’s gonna be 6 in two weeks and my youngest is 2. I am happy to say he sleeps in his crib. He goes in awake and falls asleep on his own. I’d like to say it’s because I didn’t let him sleep in here but the truth is I really think it depends on the kid.

It didn’t bother me until recently. The longer we are married and the more involved in our children’s lives we become has kind of made me realize that I need to sleep next to my husband. I need to feel that connection with the man I married. We need that time just to be able to talk about things that are not about who is picking up which kid and taking them to which class. I’m ok with our lives being about our kids. I love them so much but sometimes I need it to be about him and me. And let’s not forget about physical intimacy as well.

sleep deprivedThey say hindsight is 20/20 and honestly if anyone asked me for new baby advice I would tell them to let their kids learn how to self soothe. There has to be a happy medium. I’m not talking full on “oh my baby is 6 weeks old they should sleep all night” but when they are older, you know your kid and you know when they really need you or are just sort of figuring it all out.

But alas, I know I never listened to advice so at least when you go ahead and Google, “how to get my kid out of my bed” you’ll know you’re not alone.

I will win this battle. Or she’ll grow up and PS, I’m sure I’ll hate it.

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Sleep. (Or lack thereof)

Someone, for the love of Pete, tell me when kids stop thinking sleep is a punishment. Sleep is amazeballs but someone forgot to inform my kids and they seem to think it’s some sort of insane form of torture.

Interrupted sleep is the worst, too. I’d rather be deprived than to wake at random intervals through the night. The littlest Pie loves to sleep all night for a few days and then bam decides to wake 2-3 times at night just to babble to his Tranquil Turtle. And guess who can hear it all over the monitor that I can’t turn off because anxiety would then run rampant. Then I’m up all night because I’m imaging horrible things happening.

My daughter is the guiltiest of all of them. She does. not. want.to. sleep. She is convinced we are going to slap on big, poofy dresses that twirl and have a karaoke party when she’s asleep. Trying to get her to calm down and sleep is like trying to lasso the moon: IMPOSSIBLE.

I am sure there are other moms and dads thatch are dealing with these same issues and I’m all ears. And I swear if I hear “oh they’ll grow out of it” one more time I’m gonna have to crotch kick someone.

At this point my idea of a vacation or romantic getaway is me and my husband sleeping (literally sleeping) somewhere alone for two days. Warm blankets, comfy bed, no kids in the bed and no baby monitor that picks up something that looks like a critter and random coughs and movement.

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Now I’m off to bed. Maybe I’ll get lucky!

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Anxiety and the insanity that ensues.

Anxiety is a bitch.

Some days I feel like I have it under control and others, not so much.

On days that I have it under control it’s great. I can curb terrifying thoughts and literally say aloud to myself, “you’re being irrational” and then I move on from that thought. On the days I do not have it under control, these thoughts take off and literally multiply into the most horrifying thing my brain can summon. They play out like tiny movies in my head.

A few days ago I was driving home after picking up my 11 month old and Pie#3 hates the car, he always has. If he’s not asleep or being entertained by an older Pie he screams bloody murder for the entire 15 minute ride home. Of course after work he’s my first stop. Most days he falls asleep but lately he’s just mostly been screaming like someone is ripping out his fingernails. On this particular day he was crying and crying and then silence. Silence after screaming like that can kind of make you think and it certainly did. I turned off my music and the heat so I could maybe hear him breathing. Nothing. And he’s rear-facing with no mirror. I became a psycho. I could picture him in my head blue from choking on some random piece of junk left in the back seat. Or from him biting the binky so hard it ripped and he choked on the pieces silently. It was insane. Pulling over would have been logical but I didn’t want to seem totally crazy.

At the next light I turn on my phone camera and then proceed to put it on the selfie camera and lean back and poke him with the phone. He was alive and tilted his head just enough so I could snap this “hello I’m totally psycho and needed to check on my peacefully sleeping baby while I was driving” picture.

Pie#3 napping while I play out his death in my head.

It’s on days like this that I rethink weaning myself off my medication (at the doc’s ok). But I guess the difference is I know it’s happening and can talk myself off the Cliffs of Insanity. And then talk myself into something that will help avoid the situation… note to me: purchase mirror for this car. ASAP.