Is that a rooster calling?

Another restless night. I’ve been up, on and off, since 3:11 am. Our son has taken on a mission that seems to have as a goal our exhaustion. The first few days of this 10 day ordeal we blamed it on his incoming teeth, so we helped out with some pain management. Then we thought maybe he is asking us to get him out of our bed (topic for a different discussion) and into his own space; so we set camp for him right next to our bed. Both these actions seemed to have worked, temporarily.

When the clock hits 6 pm I get excited for the end of the day. Under “normal” circumstances this is when dinner, bath, and bedtime routines begin and the adults in the house can look forward to some quiet, alone time. Lately, however, I dread it. All of it. Our son won’t go to bed and when he finally does he cuts it short.

End-of-the-day Cynthia wants to pretend he’s not around. Pretend that he’s sleeping and feel free to enjoy dinner with my husband. And as we take our first bite, baby comes rushing to me crying for help with his exhaustion. So I reluctantly get up and go into the room with him. I sing to him. I nurse him. I rock him. His eyelids are slowly falling over his eyes and then: BOOM! there is this injection of energy that comes out of nowhere. He climbs off of me and runs out to the living room in total glee.

So now, both boys of the house are snoozing and I am furious and frustrated. I’m trying not to think of what this day will be like. I keep repeating to myself that it’s a phase, and just like everything else, it will all be OK. I’ve already had my morning coffee and am ready to start the day. Or am I?

Just when you think you’ve got things under control, it all changes.

Another restless night. I’ve been up, on and off, since 3:11 am. Our son has taken on a mission that seems to have as a goal our exhaustion. The first few days of this 10 day ordeal we blamed it on his incoming teeth, so we helped out with some pain management. Then we thought maybe he is asking us to get him out of our bed (topic for a different discussion) and into his own space; so we set camp for him right next to our bed. Both these actions seemed to have worked, temporarily.

When the clock hits 6 pm I get excited for the end of the day. Under “normal” circumstances this is when dinner, bath, and bedtime routines begin and the adults in the house can look forward to some quiet, alone time. Lately, however, I dread it. All of it. Our son won’t go to bed and when he finally does he cuts it short.

End-of-the-day Cynthia wants to pretend he’s not around. Pretend that he’s sleeping and feel free to enjoy dinner with my husband. And as we take our first bite, baby comes rushing to me crying for help with his exhaustion. So I reluctantly get up and go into the room with him. I sing to him. I nurse him. I rock him. His eyelids are slowly falling over his eyes and then: BOOM! there is this injection of energy that comes out of nowhere. He climbs off of me and runs out to the living room in total glee.

So now, both boys of the house are snoozing and I am furious and frustrated. I’m trying not to think of what this day will be like. I keep repeating to myself that it’s a phase, and just like everything else, it will all be OK. I’ve already had my morning coffee and am ready to start the day. Or am I?

Just when you think you’ve got things under control, it all changes.

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