I read a blog a few days ago that said more often than not our little ones are not giving us a hard time… they’re HAVING a hard time. Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s been a while since I blogged so I’ll give you a quick update. BJ is now a thriving six year old and B2 is two… a TODDLER… the tantrums the stubbornness you name it….
Night time is a struggle for me. I wake up crazy early, make a mad dash to get the kids ready and out the door, head to the daycare and pray I make it in time for the daycare van to pick up BJ so that I don’t have to drop him off at school, fight traffic to work, work, head home from work, pick up the boys feed them, bathe them and get them ready for bed… wash, rinse and repeat. So the almost half hour of alone time that I get before I go to sleep is treasured…
B2 has been doing this thing where he falls asleep and then wakes up about 15 minutes later to scream and beg to get out of bed off and on every two hours for most of the night. This usually ends up with me sitting on the bottom step of the stairs in frustrated tears sometime around 3 in the morning… So tonight when the tears started about 5 minutes after I’d crawled into bed with my glass of wine (don’t judge me). My usual frustration set in.
On my third trip upstairs something clicked ‘he’s having a hard time.’ So upstairs I went with a different frame of mind. When I got upstairs I asked him what was wrong picked him up out of his crib and rocked him. He asked to come to my “woom” but when I said no he snuggled in and fell asleep in two minutes. TWO MINUTES when he’s usually pissed for 2 hours. He was having a hard time… and I was proud of myself for pausing long enough to realize that. For taking a deep breath and dealing instead of focusing on the quiet time I wasn’t getting.
I want to be able to roll over and say “it’s your turn” so bad some days that I’m frustrated before my feet even hit the ground. I march upstairs, tell B2 that’s it’s night night time, adjust his covers, dry his face and once he’s quiet I head back downstairs… my words are soft. But I’m rushed and out of the room within minutes. But not tonight.
This is hard. Parenting alone is so freaking hard and exhausting. I don’t have all of the answers and a lot of this is trial and error. I feel like I’m drowning more than I’m swimming and I’m mostly just winging the hell out of things. So the little accomplishments feel great… I’m proud of myself tonight. I’m not sure what the rest of the night will look like but it’s off to a better start than usual and I’ll take that as a step in the right direction.