A Year of Gratitude: Day 270 (too many days late to count)

Well, we went to Chicago for a little weekend getaway with the kids.  Then, the day after we got home, Mollie came down with a cold.  And the next day I got it.  And the next day Baylor got it ... and his has been the worst.  My poor buddy has had a fever for three days, most of the time over 103 degrees, and just hasn't been himself.  Usually a good sleeper, he has been having trouble the last couple nights, waking frequently either from dreaming or because he can't breathe through his nose or he's hot/ridiculously cold.

And while the nights have been tough, I am grateful to be there for my little guy in his time of need - for comfort, for compassion, for a cool drink of water, for a trip to the potty.  I'm glad he knows he can lean on me and that he finds comfort in just being near me; case in point, he called out for me the other night and after going in and finding him basically still sleeping, I leaned over to give him a gentle hug and a kiss to help calm him.  As I broke away from the hug, I found his little arms wrapped around mine, like I was a teddy bear perfect for snuggling.

This mom job might not pay anything, but it certainly has its perks.

Have a wonderful night!

Writer's Block and General Fatigue

Good morning, all!  How are you this fine day?  I'm exhausted, thank you for asking.  Mollie decided that, for FOUR hours last night she would generally be awake and pissed off.  Aside from her needing some water to drink, I have no idea what was going on ... or what it will mean for the rest of the day.

Anyhow, that's not why I'm writing this morning.  I'm writing to apologize for not posting much lately.  I want to write, believe me I do, but I've had a bit of writer's block lately.  I have things I want to say, experiences I want to share, but I just can't seem to get it out on the blog.  At least not like I want to anyways.

And, beyond that, there is the fact that life has gotten a bit out of control lately.  We have a family vacation coming up and to complicate things further, the kids and I have been in various stages of illness for the last few weeks.  Which makes getting stuff done difficult and make our usual "schedule" even less predictable than it ordinarily is.  Add to that the fact that I've been getting up between 5:30 and 5:45 every day to try to squeeze a workout in and still have a little time for myself, and you have a recipe for ... well, non-blogging.

But, this morning, the laundry is done, the kids' clothes are packed, and I finished my breakfast in enough time to write.  Is this post insightful, witty, or revelatory?  Hardly.  But I felt like I should explain my absence and beg you to stick with me until I get it together and start posting more.

I hope you all are doing well.  And feel free to leave a comment or question ... maybe it'll spark a post.  Who knows?!

You Give Me Fever

Saturday night Bryson and I were lying in bed in the quiet between our daughter's cries, when all of a sudden our little man started sobbing. I rushed in there and scooped him up, only to find his skin super-heated with a fever. Upon taking his temperature, we discovered a 102.3 fever burning up the little guy. After getting him some Tylenol and water, reading a few stories, and sitting near the air conditioning vent, he was ready to head back to bed.

In the morning he awoke, still burning up, temperature still the same. Throughout the day, it rose to 103.5, and though he wasn't complaining he certainly wasn't himself.

Mollie, on the other hand, was her usual self, smiley and drooly as ever.

We watched a little Sesame Street and geared up for the beginning of Shark Week, keeping the little man as hydrated as possible.

When asked if he had a fever, he told us he was "nice and warm". Funny guy!

Hopefully today will bring lower temperatures and a turn-around toward recovery from whatever was ailing him.

Two Big Changes, One Little Girl

Yesterday was a big day for our Miss Mollie. Apart from rolling over three more times (yay!), she also had a couple big changes in her life.

The first? She had her first messy taste of rice cereal.

Here she is pre-feeding, looking all pretty and sweet.

She spit out most of what we gave her, unsure of how to swallow the bland gruel, but she seemed to improve a little by the end.

Baylor, seemingly unsure of how to deal with his little sister sitting in his high chair and getting loads of attention, acted out a little bit, but overall he was a very good boy.

The aftermath.

Still a happy little girl! Whew!

And so the morning pumping begins. I can't say I much enjoy the process, but I know it's good for my kiddo so I'm willing to do it. Plus, now that I have an electric pump, things go much quicker and my hands don't hurt afterwards. Gotta look on the bright side, right?

So, the second change?

Crying it out. Ughhhh.

After her appointment this past Monday, we realized it was time for her to learn to sleep on her own. It didn't work Monday night as she was in the throws of post-vaccination discomfort, and the nights after we only tried half-heartedly. But last night we got our acts together, buckled down, and let her cry. It was awful, but she seemed to get the hang of it at least a little bit. What'd we end up doing? Well, after a good deal of searching by my husband, we decided to try the Ferber method, as succinctly described here. Our pediatrician wanted us to just let her absolutely cry herself to sleep without going in there at all, but I just couldn't do that.

It worked well, though we did touch her a couple times during the night; once or twice to put in a binky, and once to change a thoroughly soaked diaper that was certainly keeping her up. And she still loved us in the morning! Ah woo hoo!

And she still wanted to take her morning nap near me, so I guess that's a good sign, right?

Yeah, it might not have been such a stellar idea to introduce so much at once, but she seemed to take it all in stride. We are so lucky to have a happy, healthy little lady! Wish us luck on the rest of sleep training!

Two Months Old: The Stats and The Aftermath

Amalia had her two month well-baby check up yesterday and here are her stats:

Weight: 12 lbs. 6 oz. (85th percentile)
Height: 24 1/4" ("high" - off the charts)
Head Circumference: 15 1/2" (65th percentile)

She did well at her appointment, charming everyone with her cuteness and good-natured spirit. They gave her three shots and an oral vaccine and she even did well with those, only crying for a minute or two and then falling asleep.

Little did I know that was the calm before the storm.

We got home and she seemed to be doing okay. She fed a couple times and played on her playmat, though she was a bit fussy toward the end of the evening. I popped a binkie in her mouth and she calmed right down so I figured she was just hungry yet again.

After going upstairs and getting both kids a bath, she and I settled in for our usual bedtime routine. Nursing was going well when I suddenly felt a sneeze coming on. Not wanting to have a sneeze stuck in my nose all night or rear its ugly head while I was trying to get her in her crib, I decided to let it out but stifle it as much as I could. Unfortunately, I am not very good at stifling sneezes and it came out pretty forcefully and scared my little girl half to death.

And that's when it started.

The crying. The I-am-SO-unhappy/I-may-be-dying cry that every mother dreads. Her mouth wide open with fitful screams emanating from her little body, I scooped her up to my shoulder and tried to bounce her back to calm. Usually this works, but last night she wasn't having any of it.

Not wanting to wake up Baylor, I scurried downstairs with her, popped a binkie in her mouth, and started scanning the information they'd given us about the vaccines she'd been given. Bryson grabbed the pediatrician's handbook and started looking in that for anything we could do to help her feel better. We finally decided to give her some acetaminophen when she awoke next, since the binkie had helped lull her to sleep.

Of course, we keep the meds in Baylor's room (since, for the longest time, he was the only child needing them), so I had to go all stealth and sneak into his room to get them without waking him up. And yes, I had the Mission: Impossible theme song playing in my head while I carried out my dangerous mission.

An hour later the binkie fell out and she started screaming again, so I rushed in there to console her. Of course, at this point - it being half past midnight and all - I forgot to give her the medicine and spent a little while fumbling for answers. When I finally did give her the medicine, she had no idea what to do with the sticky pink goo, so she cried even harder for a bit. I tried to nurse her, but she was having nothing of it and I ended up with a sticky boob and a crying child. Eventually she had cried hard enough to basically pass out from the exertion and fell asleep as I rocked her.

After placing her in her crib and holding her arms down so the startle reflex wouldn't wake her, she slept for about five or five-and-a-half hours and woke up in a pretty good mood. I've already had a few smiles from her today, so hopefully she's feeling much, much better. (Knock on wood!)

Just an FYI ... if your child gets a DTaP vaccine, it might not be a bad idea to give them some acetaminophen as a preemptive strike against the pain and fussiness that may lie ahead of you. We think that one was the culprit from all the information we were given.

Have a wonderful day!

Hanging On

I'm hanging on, hanging in there like my good froggy friend here (he was chilling in the shade on our shepherd's hook). Only one of my nights has been really rough, but every night I get shorted on my sleep. I know I have nothing to complain about; other mothers, I'm sure, get much less sleep than I've been getting. I have Miss Mollie to thank; she is a pretty good sleeper, often going for four- and five-hour stretches much like her brother did at her age. But I'm still behind and it's early in the morning when I feel it most.

Take last night, for instance. I was sitting there at 5:30 a.m. trying to feed my little girl, and I knew I had to do my best to stay awake if I wanted to get back in bed for a bit before I needed to get up.

"You have to stay awake," I told myself. "Ooh, maybe do some butt clenches to keep yourself awake! That way you won't fall asleep AND you'll get a workout. That'd be great ... ZZZZZZ."

"Ugh! Stay awake! You have to or you'll never ... ZZZZZZZ."

Several minutes later ...

"Okay, she's done eating. Bring her down to burp her. There ya go! Aww, isn't she cute? *yawn* Alright, pat, pat, pat on her back. Just stay awaaaaa ... ZZZZZZZ."

At that point I woke up with Mollie in my hands, head cocked to the side, sound asleep, and decided it was okay if I just put her back in bed. Then I stumbled back to bed and collapsed for another hour or so.

And like now, I should probably be napping, but I've instead chosen to work on the blog; it makes me feel more like myself, gives me an outlet for all the thoughts/feelings/experiences/etc. I have building up in me all day long, and lets the people I love know how we're doing. Not to mention the fact that after a good nap I often feel so sleepy-drunk I can barely function. Since I have two kids to take care of, that isn't the best way to be and feel, so I'm going to just rest here at my desk and let my mind flow free.

I should be making dinner or doing laundry or cleaning our house, but right now I just need to sit.

So how are you?

Random Act of Terrorism?

Where were you between 1:15 and 1:20 a.m. EST early this morning?! I certainly hope you weren't the jerks egging our house ... then I'd have to not like you anymore.

Apparently, some people - we're assuming kids because, really, who else would do this - drove up to our house, got out, chucked a few eggs at our walls and windows, then hopped in their car and sped away. My husband was the one who heard it and went downstairs to check things out; he tried cleaning some of it up, but it being so early in the morning that was a bit difficult.

Here's some of what we found:

This happens to be Baylor's window, the main brunt of the attack. We think the concentration of egg here may point to the real target of the act of terrorism. No, not my year-and-a-half old son; the former owner's teenage son used to reside in this room. So our only lead is that this may have been directed at him, though he hasn't lived here for four years.


Splat ... ugh. Soooo glad our screens are on the outside.

My husband trying to clean up the mess. He still has yet to get to Little B's window; he didn't want to start it and be working during the little man's nap.

So that sucks. I felt bad that Bryson had to go out and clean up a mess from some random person, but leaving it to cook on our house this summer just didn't seem like a good idea. Hopefully the rest of it will clean up easily, and it won't happen again.

Toddler Nightmares

Well, we're pretty sure Little B had a nightmare two nights ago. We had put him down not 45 minutes prior, when he all of a sudden started crying and screaming. I ran upstairs as quickly as I could (which, by the way, isn't very fast) and went into the little man's room as calmly as I could muster. In the dark I searched his crib and found him lying there on his side, sobbing and clutching his blankie. His little body was shaking ever so slightly, and I could tell, even in the pitch blackness of his room, that he was terrified. I wasn't sure, however, if he was awake or not, so I opted not to pick him up. Instead, I put my hand on his back and told him everything was okay, and he instantly calmed down. After a few moments, I tried leaving, but he started sobbing again the minute I left the side of his crib. Hoping that his bear would offer some comfort, I searched the crib for Mr. Bear, found him at the opposite end, and handed him to Baylor, who seemed relieved to have his old friend back.

Feeling he was sufficiently reassured and calmed, I left as quietly as I could and headed back downstairs. Within minutes, however, he was crying and screaming again. My husband thought he was just over-tired, so I sent him up instead of going myself, in hopes that he'd understand what I was talking about. Using his cell phone as a flashlight, Bryson found Baylor in the corner of his crib, sitting up, wide-eyed with terror. After picking him up, calming him down, and putting our bathroom night light in his room, Baylor was okay enough to leave him. He cried a bit more before he fell back asleep, but he had stopped the frantic sobs and heart-breaking screams.

We both felt certain he'd had a nightmare but very uncertain of how we handled it. After googling "toddler nightmares" we found we'd done an okay job, but I'm still wondering ...

To all the moms and dads who have toddlers, how do you handle nightmares?

"Beep!"

"Beep!" said Baylor, as he pushed along his new toy. He loves to beep whenever something else does; the microwave, the toaster oven, the sliding door on the van ... it doesn't matter what it is, he just loves to beep.

"Beep!" he exclaimed, beaming with delight.

"Geez, that beeping is loud for a little toy," I thought to myself. "I wonder if it has a volume button."

"Beep!" he shouted, straightening out his arms and pursing his lips like he always does when he's really geeked about something. He smiled at me with true joy in his eyes, and I knew we had purchased a winner of a toy. He ran to me and wrapped his arms around my neck and shoulders, then he yelled, "Beep!" into my ears.

Then I woke up. A Braxton Hicks contraction pushed Paco into my bladder with urgency, and I started to make my way out of bed for my nightly trip to the bathroom.

"Beep!" A loud beep rang out through the house.

That's weird, I thought. My dreams don't usually continue that vividly after I've woken up. I wish Baylor would turn off that toy. Wait, it's 2:40 in the morning, he shouldn't be playing with a toy. Wait, I didn't hear him say beep, just the toy. And his new toy doesn't beep; it doesn't even have batteries.

Oh crap.

Yeah, it wasn't a toy. It was the carbon monoxide detector and the batteries were going dead. Ugh, why on earth do they always go dead in the middle of the night?! I have never, EVER had one start beeping during the daylight hours.

After using the bathroom, I schlepped out of our room and eventually downstairs to see which fire/air safety device had gone dead. Upon discovering the source of the beeping, I was shocked that both Big and Little B were still asleep; that sucker was loud!

Though not as loud, I found out, as when you put the new batteries into it. Seriously?! Does it have to announce the fact that it has new batteries? Since it obviously knows people were sleeping (thus its penchant for going dead in the dark of night), it must know that I was exhausted and sensitive to all noises big and small. I swear, I was tone deaf for a few minutes because of it.

But hey, I got to have a nice dream of my son because of the beeping, and now I know for sure that one of the air safety devices in our house is fully charged. Gotta look at the bright side of things this Monday morning!

Have a wonderful day!

Handwritten, Middle-of-the-Night Post by Nicole "Roger" Jacques

So, I woke up in the middle of the night (3:45 a.m.) last night to pee and while getting out of bed my brain went into my blog voice and started writing out this post as I tried to roll from left to right then get out of bed. Deciding I didn't want to lose it to the inevitable amnesia sleep would bring, I hand wrote this post while I was in the loo. I am going to type it out exactly as I wrote it (single spelling error and all) so you have all the nuances of my sleepy brain. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

I had to pee in the middle of the night last night. This was no easy task as some of my pillows had adjusted mid-sleep and, upon shifting, left me in a less-than-desirable position. My left leg was rendered essentially useless by some type of mysterious temporary paralysis, leaving only my right leg to do the work of rolling over so I could get out of bed.

I moved the pillow out from between my knees ... pain but no additional leverage gained.

Then I tried moving the pillow out from behind my back, hoping to let gravity or something roll me over. But, alas, I was stuck in that position like a roasted potato left too long in the pan.

My sleepy mind then started calling myself Roger; my only thought is that it needed someone to cheer on.

I soon realized my left leg was still pinned by a triangle of sheets near my foot, and upon freeing it I was able to slowly roll to my back.

Not a great position to be in as I am now shaped like a backwards turtle.

Roger was stuck.

Really not wanting to wake up my husband, I soldiered on. Yes, I'm horribly stubborn ... sue me.

My left leg, though free, had been crushed by my body weight for hours and was rendered useless by pain at my hip joint. Better than the previous paralysis, but still undesirable.

I scooted my right leg closer to the edge of the bed then painfully moved my left leg into a bent position, knee sticking up into the air (not unlike the awkward position my husband sometimes assumes during sleep). With this slight bit of nearly useless leverage I tilted myself gently to my right.

Suddenly I longed for the days in the not-so-distant future when I'd have a catheter or a nurse to help me out of bed.

"Don't think like that, Roger!" I chided myself. "We can do this!"

Then, somehow, I was miraculously able to get part of my body over the edge of the bed and daringly let gravity roll me the rest of the way out.

Upon standing, I realized my left leg was again paralyzed though this time I knew, like most early mornings, it was from the fear of intense pain.

As I had already started writing this post in my head (and really didn't want to lose it) and couldn't move anyways, I took a moment to grab a pen and pad of paper on my way.

Then, after using the bathroom, I sat there on the toilet, risking hemmoroids and sleepy legs, and write out this entire post.

No shit.

Three handwritten pages later, both legs were horribly asleep, my mind was slightly more awake, but I was creatively satisfied.

Ahhh.

Back to bed for 2 more hours.

Good night, Roger.

Chicago: Hitting the Wall and Ikea

After the fun of the day (see it here and here) was over, Little B and I hit the hay. What happened next was one of the worst nights I've had in a while.

Baylor went to sleep just fine, more than fine in fact; he barely made a whimper as I laid him down in the hotel crib. I got ready, and he didn't make a peep. I climbed into bed; by then he was sound asleep, making gentle breathing sounds off in the dark of the room.

Two hours later, he started it; crying out, without waking but most certainly waking me up, every hour on the hour. It was like his little internal clock was going off or something. At 3:00 a.m. he cried for a lot longer than usual, so I got up to check on him. My nose was stuffy from all the down bedding, and the minute I stood up Paco sank into my bladder making it imperative I get to the bathroom. Still, I checked on my little man and even when I touched his head, he was sound asleep. Just moaning and crying in his sleep.

My bladder could take it no longer, so I hurried off to the bathroom to avoid making the situation even worse. After I finished washing my hands, I turned off the light and walked out into the room ... straight into the corner of the little half wall that held the minibar. Oh, with my forehead. Running on such little sleep, feeling so congested and sneezy, and having an aching noggin, I burst into quiet tears and slunk back into the bathroom. For a moment, I contemplated calling my husband back at home; then I thought better of it and got a hold of myself. Three a.m. is no time for a pity party.

I walked into the shower area of the bathroom and grabbed a towel, carefully walked back into the bedroom and covered my pillow with it, and pulled back the comforter. I threw on my long-sleeved t-shirt and socks and climbed back into bed as quietly as I could.

Several deep breaths later I was asleep, and thankfully my little man slept well until around 6:30 a.m. when he started the moaning/crying in his sleep thing again. So I got up and showered and started getting us packed up.

I don't think he actually woke up until about 8:30, and when he did he was happy as a clam. Whew! That made me feel better at least; nothing was wrong and he had slept well.

After getting everything packed, Mom, Christine, Baylor, and I headed over to the Watertower shopping center to grab a bite of breakfast at Foodlife, where we had eaten lunch the day before. The breakfast was good, the smoothie with breakfast was outstanding, and the lunch the day before was delicious! I highly recommend it if you are out shopping (or working) on Michigan Ave.

Then we went out into the cold and wind to finish up the shopping we wanted to do: Crate and Barrel and Sur La Table. Little B enjoyed every minute out in the inclement weather, but the ladies were not so thrilled and soon we were headed back to the hotel to check out and pick up the car.

Once we had the car all packed up, we drove out to Bolingbrook for our trip to Ikea. And then we headed home.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip, and I would happily take my son back there again. I would love for him to get to explore Millenium Park and see more of Shedd's. Oh, and we'll have to eventually do a trip to the zoo, but that'll have to wait until at least next summer, probably longer.

Either way, it was great. And, Mom, I really appreciate you taking us with you and showing us such a good time. Thank you again and again!

Writer's Block

Last night as I was lying in bed, I had an epiphany about a post I wanted to write. Suddenly, the words, perfect and clear, came pouring into my head, expressing all the exact feelings I have been feeling lately. In that instant, I strongly, strongly debated whether or not - at midnight - I should head downstairs and pound out a post; I know myself well enough to understand that that was my shot to get it out. And I passed. And I woke up regretting it.

Sure, I could remember what the post was about, but the words weren't there anymore. I couldn't find what I was truly wanting to say. And as the day progressed, my attempts to capture the thought again resulted in a simpering, whiny little post that I would probably regret writing as soon as I hit the "Post" button.

Had I had one of those nifty little netbooks at my bedside I could have dashed into the bathroom and hammered out something that would give me inspiration in the morning. Or, if I could just write as fast as my brain can think, I could have jotted it down in my journal. But, alas, the thought is gone.

Maybe it's better this way; maybe this is the universe's way of telling me that I shouldn't have written about my current clothing situation and other moans about motherhood. (See, you don't want to read it either, do you?)

It just sounded so damn good in my head last night.

Sleepy Time Routine: Knocking On Everything Wooden

I hesitate to even write this post; I feel like I am tempting the gods with this one.

But ... I think we might have gotten the whole sleep thing figured out!

After lots of heartbreak, effort, trial, and error, my son has begun to take almost regular two (plus!) hour naps, gets to sleep on his own (crying/whimpering for ten minutes or less), is sleeping through the night, and is starting to do a really good job of getting himself to sleep at night without any fuss! I almost can't believe all this even as I am typing it, but it's true.

So how'd we do it?

Well, first off there is the issue of a routine. You have to do it for every sleep event, be it napping or nighttime, and you have to stick as close to the routine as you can. We chose nursing (though not for every event), followed by the "reading" of two stories (The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle and Gossie by Olivier Dunrea), blowing out the lamp (if it's on), hugs, kisses, and an explanation of what is going on (e.g., "It's naptime, buddy, so Mommy's gonna put you in bed and you need to sleep for a while."). Then into the crib for baby and out of the room for mommy. Even if he cries, I stay out of the room for a little while.

Then there is the issue of the environment. We have blackout shades in his room so it's super dark even in the daytime; this keeps the little man from just spending naptime looking around the room being his usual curious self. Also, we have his ceiling fan on for both circulation and white noise. I don't know exactly how important the darkness and fan are, but we are going to Cape Cod for a week starting on Saturday so we'll find out!

One thing I think really helped my son was having something in the crib with him. First we tried Mr. Bear, a soft teddy bear about six inches tall (without a rattle inside); my son loves Mr. Bear and I'd often find him in the morning with a wet ear or paw where my son chewed on him. Now, I know blankets are sort of taboo in the baby world, but one day I thought he was going to be cold so I decided to give him a blanket his Oma knitted him; I figured the weave was open enough that if he put it over his face inadvertently he'd still be able to breathe. He seems to seek both his blankie and Mr. Bear out for comfort, and that helps him feel safe and secure enough to drift off to sleep.

Finally, and possibly most importantly, consistency is key. Once we figured out what our routine would be, we have stuck to it. It hasn't always been easy or fun, but the little man needed to know that we meant business and that this was something he could count on every time we wanted him to sleep.

Like I said, I can't be certain that this great sleep will be a lasting trend, but at least it's a start.

Knock on wood!

Sleepy Time Routine: Well, That Sucked

Yeah, so the past two nights have been a disruption to our sleepy time routine ... in spite of my efforts to wake him back up after feeding, he has pretty much been asleep when I put him in bed. Not good. I don't know if that is what contributed to what happened last night or not, but we definitely need to get back on track.

Yesterday my son didn't nap. At all. Let me tell you, it was a long day. I tried to get him to nap, I really did. The first time he probably would have gone down just fine if I hadn't fallen asleep while feeding him, thus allowing him to fall asleep and get comfy on me, then accidentally woke him up trying to get him into his crib, blah blah blah. You get the idea. My second major attempt, he just stood up in his crib and sobbed harder and harder.

That said, aside from the crying around naptime and during his feedings (which makes me think his two new teeth are going to make an appearance soon) he was his happy, jolly self. Even at the grocery store, he shrieked - loudly - with delight at the giant price drop signs.

So what happened last night? Well, I have no idea what time it happened first, but my son woke up sobbing. He cried and cried, almost beside himself, to the point that he lost his breath. The first time he got back to sleep on his own after a few minutes of it, but the second time he woke up at about 4:30 a.m. it escalated to the point I felt I had to go in there. My husband reminded me to check his diaper (good thinking, honey!), and it was full enough for a dark diaper change. Of course, he peed with his diaper off, so I had to spend time cleaning that up (hint: use a diaper to sop up all the pee ... they are super absorbent!). Then I got him back into his diaper, gave him some Tylenol, "read" him his sleepy time stories, and put him in his crib. And he cried ... hard.

Since I woke up with a very engorged breast, I had to pump right then. So I went downstairs and did that, listening to my little guy as he cried. It was rough. My husband tried going in there after a few minutes, but the little man just wanted to be held and we weren't doing that. I love him dearly and want to hold him (all the time), but he so needs to learn to get to sleep on his own, regardless of the situation.

He eventually got himself back to sleep, but it is so unsettling to hear him cry like that. I am looking forward to when he can tell me what's wrong so I can better help him in the middle of the night. Until then, I can only do what I think is best, I guess.

Hopefully today will be chock-full of naps, smiles, giggles, and fun. Knock on wood!

Broken Hearted Pt. 6

Yeah, last night was rough again. I don't even know how many times my son woke up crying last night ... three, maybe four? And each time was for at least five minutes (again, ball-parking it because I can't see the clock).

I am really starting to wonder if we are doing the right thing. The last two nights before this he slept all the way through, but then last night (sigh) last night was AWFUL. I just don't know.

Broken Hearted Pt. 5 and Other Tidbits

Yeah, the last few nights have sucked ... a lot. More of the same: sobbing in the middle of the night (last night, my son cried so hard he lost his breath and choked a bit - it was awful), waking up earlier than usual, and now hardly napping. Am I doing something wrong? Yes, he is getting himself back to sleep, but shouldn't some aspect of this be getting even a little easier? He is crying for shorter amounts of time at night, but the sobbing is still intense and lonely.

Oh, before I forget ... I made $276.25 in the garage sale! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. That said, I won't be having another one for a LONG time. It was a lot of work and now that our house is more cleaned out we don't NEED to do it.

Mother's Day was nice. I'll try to post more about that later, though, when I can get the pictures up.

I wanna see this movie. You?

I didn't do an Mmm ... Monday post ... crap! I'll try to put up a recipe for Tasty Tuesday. If not, I'm sure my small readership will be okay. You'll survive. And I'll post two next week.

We're going to the park today with an old high school (heck, elementary school) friend Lisa and her daughter Ellie. I'm bringing my camera so hopefully I'll have pictures for you soon.

I've made a lot of promises in this post ... hopefully I'll live up to them.

Have a wonderful day! I'll try to write more later when life calms down a bit.

Broken Hearted Pt. 4

Yup, one more night of it. Again, about a half an hour after I put him down, he woke up and sobbed. I had a pretty stressful evening yesterday, so his crying was all it took to put me in tears. Luckily, it only took about ten minutes (ballpark) before he fell back asleep. But in that short time my heart ached and all I wanted to do was snatch him up out of his crib and hug him and tell him everything was okay and Mommy was still here.

But I didn't.

And he slept for the rest of the night. Being the noisy sleeper that he is, he moaned loudly a few times, but I could tell he was still asleep. Cute little man.

Hopefully the getting to bed will get a little easier soon, too.

Broken Hearted Pt. 3

Yup, a third night of awful. I was soooo hoping all those comments would be right and after two nights my son would get it. But alas, last night was rough, too.

About a half an hour after I put him down to sleep, he woke up and started sobbing. Hardcore, flat out sobbing. Again, like I had totally abandoned him, never to return. He kept at it for probably about ten minutes and then quieted down to sleep. Of course, hearing him cry like that, and it beginning so out-of-the-blue, made my pulse quicken and my nerves push toward the brink. I hate hearing my beautiful boy SO upset.

A couple hours later (though I don't know the exact time ... I am blind without my glasses), he started sobbing again. And again, like I left him - alone - for good. This time he cried for about fifteen minutes (again, an estimation ... my husband said about halfway through that it had been seven minutes so I'm going off that), and then quieted down.

In spite of his accomplishing getting back to sleep by himself, I was left feeling broken-hearted once again. He sounded so sad, so beside himself with grief. I am scared for when he wakes up this morning; I want him to look at me like he did before this whole crying-it-out thing started ... like I was the best thing in the world. In the last two days, it seems like my halo has tarnished a bit for him and it is tearing me up inside.

Alright, enough of my lamentation. What's done is done. There is no going back. Here's hoping for a good day today and an even better night tonight.

Broken Hearted Pt. 2

Last night went a little better than the other night, I suppose. We kept the doors between our bedrooms only open a crack, so I couldn't hear him as much. And I feel SO guilty, but I think I may have fallen asleep during all the crying. My husband said our son cried for about 40 minutes, but I don't remember it being that long.

My son woke up okay yesterday, a little more somber and skeptical than usual. But after his nearly two hour nap he was much more like himself - which made me feel a lot better.

Thank you so much to all those who commented on the first post. I really appreciate it. It made me feel like I wasn't being such a bad mom. I read them again last night before I went to bed to remind me that I am doing something that may be hard but is probably pretty necessary. So thank you!

Broken Hearted

Well, last night we did it. After a few consecutive nights of getting up three or four times with my son, we decided to try letting him cry it out.

It was AWFUL. Truly awful.

For one hour, my son sobbed ... alone ... in his crib. We went in there a few times during the course of the sob-fest, mainly to make sure he was okay and not standing up or anything that could only help to wake him up. But he just laid there, sobbing.

During the course of the hour, my heart broke over and over again as his crying changed. I could imagine what he was thinking: mommy has abandoned me, they don't love me anymore, I am all alone in the dark, I NEED her! And it reduced me to tears.

After the full hour, just as we were about to give in and help the poor guy out, he stopped crying and fell asleep. I have no idea how or why. And I don't know if we'll have to do this again tonight ... dear God, I hope not. I'm not sure my heart could take it.

He stayed asleep the rest of the night and is still asleep now at 8:00 a.m. (Knock on wood!) But I'm almost afraid for when he wakes up. Will he look at me like I have betrayed him? Abandoned him? Will that sparkle in his eyes be gone because he has seen what cruelty is? (Yes, I know that sounds dramatic and we weren't trying to be cruel, but it felt like we were anyway.) I want my son to still be himself after that horrible night.

We'll see, I guess.