Author: Julie

Baby Girl is having surgery at the end of this month. Tonsillectomy, adenoidectomy and ear tubes inserted. Eleven days before her third birthday. This is going to be a big deal. She will have to stay in the hospital overnight and it will take approximately 7-10 days for her to recover, I’m told. Hell, I was 30 when I had my tonsils out and it took me 45 days to recover! It SUCKED. I’m grateful for the reduced recovery time for my 2/3 year old – my sanity would be severely tested if it took her 45 days. I would expect you all to work out who was going to bring me a bottle of wine each day.

This has all been a long time coming….

Baby Girl has had sleep issues since she was very small. We would go through periods of “good sleeping” and “bad sleeping” – the length of the “bad sleeping” far outdid the length of the “good sleeping.” I read books on sleep training, we had our nightly rituals, I did it all just right. To no avail really. She has woken up multiple times a night and either cried, gotten out of bed, refused to sleep, or, very rarely, gone back to sleep on her own almost every night for the past two years. In any case, I was awake every single time. We recognized that she had trouble breathing at night – I thought it was allergies. I switched her pillow out in case it was full of dust and/or mold. She snores. Loudly and persistently. She is often cranky during the day. She doesn’t like to sleep alone.

Her original pediatrician never said a word about her enlarged tonsils. But one day – maybe she was yawning – I noticed how big they are. They are so large they almost touch. At first I thought that tonsils maybe were things that started out large and you grew into them. But then she started getting sick a lot. LOTS of colds, sinus issues, drainage, ear infections and coughing. Lord, the coughing. She coughs anytime she is laying down. She coughs in the car seat, especially if she falls asleep, she coughs while she is eating, she will cough so much she gags herself. She will cough so much that she wakes herself up. And then she cries.

I had her at her new physician’s office one day because of a cold or something and she took one look in her mouth and said to me “has anyone ever told you her tonsils are huge?” And I said um no. They’re not normal? She kindly explained that no, the tonsils are not supposed to be so large that they interfere with her breathing. And her swallowing. And her daily life. You should take her to a Pediatric ENT she tells me. Lightbulbs are exploding all over my head.

So after the many weeks it took me to find a Pediatric ENT anywhere near here, we went 45 minutes down I-35 EAST (HOLY SHIT I HATE THAT ROAD) while Baby Girl fussed and fretted in the back seat. Once we get there, they have a great little play area. So great, that Baby Girl has no intention of leaving the play area after having spent nearly an hour in the car to go with some lady she has never seen before. I pick her up, while she is protesting loudly, and we go with the nurse. The doc seems nice. He has a great manner with the kids. Baby Girl starts laughing and having a good time. He says to me that her tonsils are exceedingly large – does she snore? Yes? I’m silently berating myself for how long it took me to figure out there is something really wrong. He looks in her ears – “I bet she has some hearing loss” he says. Wait, what?! No, Doc, she hears fine – I swear. Even though she failed her newborn hearing test three times – she can now hear me try to silently open a piece of chocolate from down the hallway. He says “remind me to do a hearing test after you have the sleep study done – I’m willing to bet she has hearing loss with this amount of fluid in her ears.” But her ears don’t hurt, I argue – she doesn’t complain. Well, he patiently explains, her ears are not currently infected, but they are clearly not draining correctly. Because there is fluid in them. Oh, I say meekly. I see.

He says we need to have Baby Girl do a sleep study. I stupidly ask “they do that for kids?”. Even though I know the answer, I am stalling while my brain is trying to figure out why it took me 2 years and 8 months to get to this point. My mom and brother both have sleep apnea – surely it should’ve occurred to me that Baby Girl could have the same issue. I’m told it isn’t exactly the same – Baby Girl probably has obstructive sleep apnea. Meaning she is basically choking on her own tonsils. Nice. That’s something you always want to hear about your precious one. That would, however, explain the chronic coughing. Also, he throws in for good measure – if she’s got obstructive sleep apnea, it will lead to behavioral problems and issues in school. Hmmm. I think we’re already there with the behavioral problems. I mean, I know she’s a toddler, but honestly she is a very difficult and cranky toddler an awful lot of the time. Maybe some of that can be explained by lack of correct sleep?!

As we leave the ENT’s office I am both reassured and horrified. None of this sounds like a walk in the park, none of it sounds like something I want my Baby Girl to endure. But maybe, just maybe, if we get through all this Baby Girl will actually learn to sleep well. And maybe we will all be happier.

Coming soon – the actual sleep study and results. Meanwhile, here is an adorable picture of Baby Girl sacked out one day in her Sissy’s bed.

It’s been awhile, I know. It’s been so long that WordPress changed the entire make up of my site and I didn’t even know. There’s a good reason it’s been a long time since I’ve posted.

I was tired. Worn out. Barely functioning.

Today I have a break. My hubby and Baby Girl have gone off to visit the grandparents. Leaving me here to DO WHATEVER I WANT. Bliss. Heaven. Time to myself, to rejuvenate, to renew, to re-energize. I had looked forward to today (and tomorrow!) for about two weeks. Holding on to the thought of being alone for two days as my sanity waned and threatened to give out. These two days were my life-line – my rope. And I made it. After a hellish weekend I woke this morning, early of course, to pack their bags and send them off with a happy wave. Let me know when you get there! Have a great time! Love you!

Immediately sat down and wrote a looonnnggg list of everything I wanted to accomplish. Now, last time I got to be alone for two days I sat on my couch and barely moved. But this time, oh ho! I had a plan. A plan to actually get a bunch of things done that I have wanted to do for ages. I knew I would get to spend more than 5 minutes at a time working on something without being interrupted, I could go in and out of the house as I pleased and I could decide at the last minute if I wanted to do something else. Those of you who have young children KNOW what I’m talking about. “Baby Girl, Mama needs to work on this one thing for a little bit.” NOOOOOO MAMA I NEED YOU! I thirsty! I hungy! I have to potty! “OK Baby Girl, hold on and I will help you. OK here you go – all set?”

Three to seven minutes later…. MAMA?! Pway me, mama! Pwease?! MAMA?! MAMA get up! MAMA pwwwwweeeeeaaaaasssssseeeeeee! Sigh. “Baby Girl – 5 mins ok?” NOOOO! MAMAMAMAMAMMAMA. “OK OK! I’m coming!” An hour later – “OK Baby Girl we’ve played and ate and drank and done the potty and brushed your teeth at noon and fed the cat and now Mama is going to do some work.” OK Mama. 

One… two… three… Mama? “Yes Lovie?” Mama go outside? “Not right now Lovie.” Baby Girl disappears. Things get quiet. I can hear her reading her books to her dolls. Then silence. Five minutes pass. I can’t concentrate. What on earth is she doing so quietly? I’d better go see. Peek around the corner. Baby Girl sees me and grins. Mama I color! Groan. Baby Girl is coloring all over her wooden puzzle pieces. Getting out the magic eraser now…

And on it goes. Just like that. For the ENTIRE day. And of course, it’s not entirely Baby Girl either. There’s lots of other things that wear me out. Emotionally, especially. Sometimes when I tell my husband that I want to lie down for awhile, it’s not necessarily because I’m tired enough to sleep. It’s because I want to escape. Escape from everything I constantly have to think about and deal with and handle. Just an hour in that cool, dark, quiet room does wonders for my productivity and attitude.

But today? Today I got to do a hundred tiny things that made me happy. And I got to do them in silence, all by myself. I went outside and checked on my trees – are they growing ok? I put fly predators out in the pasture – just walked around our entire property. I did laundry in peace. I cleaned out the fridge and the pantry. Then I got in the car and I ran errands all alone – no Baby Girl in the backseat whining or threatening to hurl. No feeling like I had to hurry back home again so that hubby could go mow paddocks or work on the fencing or the myriad of other constant projects we have around here. No having to come back early to pick up Baby Girl or teach a lesson.

And it’s just simple stuff really – Walmart, the bank, the AT&T store. Hell I even got a haircut. Tomorrow I may even get a pedicure! The possibilities are endless! Tomorrow I get to sleep late! Well, you know, 7 am or so. The horses still have to be fed. But still – I can wake up without a small child saying Mommy? Mommy, watch Mouse? at 6 am. I can wake up and just lay there for awhile if I want to. I can’t even explain to you how ecstatic I am about that. Whenever I do decide to get up I can eat my breakfast without having to share. I can go out and feed the horses without having the usual fight over getting dressed. I can come back inside without the insistence that we stay outside and swing. In fact I hardly want to go to bed tonight because then tomorrow will come, and then Wednesday and then my loves will be home and then all this “me time” will be over, until next time.

But I sure will be happy to see my Baby Girl and her Daddy!

It’s 10 am. Baby Girl likes to play hide and seek. She’ll get all serious, start whispering and put her finger to her lips – shhhh she tells me, we need to hide! But if we hide Baby Girl, who is going to find us? Daddy will! she says. Sure he will Baby, in a few hours when it occurs to him to look for us.  We’re in her bedroom, playing. She opens the closet door and yanks and tugs my arm until I agree to hide in the closet. I sit down in the closet with my back against the wall (this is starting to feel a little weird) and she begins to cover me with stuffed animals. What’s this? She asks. That’s a fla-min-go. Fa-mingo? Yep, that’s right. Fa-mingo goes in my arms. As well as Duck, Bunny, pink puppy, big puppy, plastic giraffe, little white horse, and a pink and blue hat on top of my head to complete the disguise.

Ok shhhhh!! I find you! She closes the door and I sit in the darkness. Hey this isn’t so bad, I think. I don’t mind playing hide and seek. Sit in the quiet peaceful darkness in the closet, away from everything? Right up my alley! Five seconds go by. Then, crrreeeaaakkk – door starts to open. I wait patiently. She jumps in and “I find you!!!” she screeches. Yep you found me alright. Why don’t we play again Baby? You leave me here and go do something else for awhile and come find me again in an hour, ok? OK Mama! 10 seconds this time. “I FIND YOU!” Damn. Not exactly what I had in mind.

1o:30 am. Now we’re on to counting pennies. Fascination with her Owl Bank and putting the pennies in and taking them out again. No use at all for the three $5 dollar bills she has received from her Godparents. She tosses those aside. Pennies are much more entertaining than $5 bills! If only we all could be so easy to please as regards money. I manage to sneak out while she’s counting “1, 2, 5, 7…2, 11, 8…”

11:15 am. I am happily sorting laundry (why do people complain about laundry? I don’t mind it at all – almost immediate gratification and relaxing as well) when Baby Girl has decided she’s done counting. I think it’s been at most 5 minutes. Mama! Dance me! Jump me! Monkey on the bed! Pwease?! Little hands up under her chin and sweetly tilting her head to one side and looking up at me under her eyelashes. Little conniver. OK I say, let’s go jump. So I hold her hands and sing “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed” for what seems like eternity while she jumps up and down on the chaise in my office. I’ll be singing “one fell off and bumped her head” all night now. Instead of sleeping. Mama I hungy!! I swear this kid should be growing like a weed considering how much she eats. But she’s still tiny. So we go find pea-butter and cwackers and yogurt.

11:45 am. Once she’s happily eating and watching “Mouse” I sneak off to do some more work. I’m busily working on the computer in my office when it occurs to me that it’s awfully quiet. I can hear Mouse but nothing else. Damn I think. I have to go investigate. She’s no longer eating her pea-butter. She’s not in the living room. She’s not in the playroom. Ah ha! She’s in her bedroom reading her books out loud to her babies. Awww. So sweet! I’ll just watch silently for a min… ah crap, she saw me peak around the door. MAMA!! Come wead me! Sigh. So much for getting any work done. But there’s no way you can NOT go investigate when your almost 3-year old is being eerily quiet. Because chances are she’s not sweetly reading to her babies. You’ll usually find her coloring on something that isn’t paper. Or covering herself in yogurt. Or giving her dolls a bath. Or trying to brush the cat’s teeth. Investigating the silence is imperative.

12:30 pm. OK Baby, I’ve read 12 books, I need to go do some work. It’s nap time, isn’t it? NOOOOOOO no nap, I not sweepy, I wake up! Tantrum starts to escalate due to the threat of my undivided attention being taken away. Baby, I say, it’s sleepy time. NOOOOOO! I can’t! I can’t sweep! OK how about you go do the laundry and clean the house and run the business, and I’ll sleep. I don’t mind. She just stares at me, still crying. Eventually I get her to go to sleep. In my bed, with all her “stuff” – which includes blankie, snuggie, multiple paccy’s, Mouse, little mouse, Kitty and sippy cup (water – don’t freak out). No socks, no pants. This kid has a lot of requirements.

1:30 pm. Thirty minutes later I hear little feet padding down the hall. REALLY?! THIRTY MINUTES?! Sigh. This is going to be a very long day…..

Grandparents are one of life’s greatest blessings. They love their grandchildren with a passion you just can’t find anywhere else. There is something magical about the way they interact with their grandbabies, you can see them practically turn back into children themselves, such is the joy at being so unconditionally loved by these tiny creatures.

Grandbabies get away with everything when grandparents are around. Undivided attention plus sugary snacks equals a Baby Girl that doesn’t want to come home.

Baby Girl’s Granny and Pa Pa are two of her favorite people. They were originally intended to be Grandma and Grandpa, but you know little kids have their own ideas of what these two crazy old folks are to them. And my Dad (Pa Pa) still insists on Grandpa – he needs to just give it up cuz Baby Girl is completely stuck on Pa Pa. And HE calls her Fu Fu. So personally I think they’re quits.

Baby Girl has adored Granny and Pa Pa since day 1. My dad can be a little intimidating – especially when he hasn’t shaved in five months and looks like a starved grizzly bear out for his next meal – but this didn’t put Fu Fu off in the slightest. She took to him immediately. Maybe she knew that you should automatically love the man who buys all the diapers. Pa Pa does a lot of crazy things for his grandkids. He set up a zip line in the back yard – he put in a massive playground type structure in his back forty – he built a pier over the tank for feeding the fish – he put a “hold on” bar across the four wheeler so he could take all the kids for a ride at once (thus no arguing about who’s turn it is). When my brother and I were kids we didn’t have a zip line. Just saying.

And Granny can be summed up like this – Baby Girl is at home with me and sees an advertisement for cookies on the TV. Baby Girl says “Mama I need a cookie.” I say No. Baby Girl immediately comes back with “I need Granny. I need to go to Granny’s house.” Baby Girl is no fool. She knows who is going to give up the cookies. When Baby Girl sees Granny she takes her hand immediately and leads her off to play. At that point I cease to exist. If she needs her pullup changed, Granny has to do it. She needs a bath? Granny. She needs to get dressed? Granny. She wants to color? Granny.

When we got in the truck the other day to go to the horse show in Tyler, Baby Girl asked every five minutes for Granny. Granny’s house? Granny? Go to Granny’s? I need Granny! And every once in awhile she’d throw in a Pa Pa for good measure. Just to let me know he wasn’t forgotten. About two hours into the drive I turned to Sissy and said that I shouldn’t have told her we were going to see Granny until about five minutes before we got there. She refused to sleep on the drive up. But the instant she got into Granny’s car to go back to the house (from the show grounds) she fell asleep. Secure and happy with the fact that she was finally with her beloved Granny and Pa Pa.

Baby Girl doesn’t have tantrums when she’s with Granny and Pa Pa. I mean, tantrums aren’t necessary when you are getting everything your heart desires the very second your heart desires it. As soon as I show up, though, and start being the Mommy, the meltdowns ensue. Mommy insists on bathtime instead of playtime and bedtime instead of watching cartoons. Mommy is not any fun at all. But it’s a relief to know that Baby Girl is safe and happy when I am working. She’s having the time of her life. Granny and Pa Pa will probably need about a week to recover but I know they cherish the time they have with Baby Girl. It’s nice to be adored isn’t it?

Being an older mom, I do wonder if I will ever get this opportunity. How old will I be when Baby Girl has babies of her own? It’s not something I really worry about, but it crosses my mind. My own parents are older, too, and I pray every day that they’ll be around to watch Baby Girl grow up. I never knew either of my grandfathers, so that relationship is particularly special to see.

And the most important reason Baby Girl needs to spend time with Granny and Pa Pa? It gives Mommy a guilt free break! And Mommy rejoices over that.

I buy Baby Girl new toys because I’M bored. I admit it – it’s not her fault. We can go into the store and come out toyless – she will admire, and love on stuffed animals and point things out but if I tell her to put something back she does. And we move on. (This does not apply to the cereal aisle by the way – only toys.) If, however, I go to the store by myself, I will absolutely not come out toyless. I can spend a good thirty minutes cruising the toy aisles, looking for things I think Baby Girl should have. I went to Target yesterday to find an iPhone case. I came out with cat food, cat treats, a puzzle for three year olds and a perfectly adorable 2T Minnie Mouse swimsuit. I looked at Baby Girl toys and clothes for so long that I ran out of time to go to the actual grocery store. There’s something about being in Target all by yourself that makes you feel totally Zen for a little bit. You don’t even have to take a Xanax to go in there like you do for Walmart. You do, right?

I mean honestly, what is the point of having a baby GIRL if you don’t spend hours looking at clothes for her? And as for the toys, well – I don’t play well. I’m implored by Baby Girl to “pway ME!” (meaning play with me mama!) about fifteen times a day. I try, I really do. But playing is boring. I last about five to ten minutes before I’m desperately trying to get up and go do something else. We play with the same toys a billion times. We do the same puzzles, play with the same babies, read the same books and color with the same broken crayons every hour of every day. We watch the same Mouse shows and Doc and Elena and Sofia and the Lion Guard until I can’t stand the sound of any of it.

So then we go outside to play. Or we start playing outside after we feed the horses. Again, I last maybe 15 minutes before I’m begging her “let’s go inside!” (I know – I’m terrible). And Baby Girl really loves being outside, unless it’s cold. She’d stay out there for hours if I could stand it. I love being outside, too, but I have to be working – not just standing around watching her go down a slide fourteen times or pushing her in the swing or picking up rocks. I mean, I get it – playing for her is essential and super fun. That’s what her life is all about right now! It’s just that I have so much to do and so much on my mind that it’s damn near impossible to just completely chill out and while away the hours.

In fact, I absolutely can’t do it. I am ALWAYS thinking about what all I need to do that day in order to keep our house running, our business running, and all the bills paid and my clients happy. Having been almost 39 years old when Baby Girl was born does not lend itself well to slowing down and chilling out when you are used to doing things all day long in an effort to get shit done. I mean, if I didn’t still have the business, then of course it would be easier – but I would still be bored out of my mind. I like to be busy. I like to work outside – I like to accomplish tasks and cross things off lists. I like to relax in the evening after a day spent DOING. I don’t relax during the day even without Baby Girl imploring me to.

I also like to make Baby Girl happy. So I buy new toys. So that I can play for another twenty minutes and not want to be doing something else. I like organizing her playroom, too, but that is a fruitless task. I have this image of a perfectly organized, clean and pleasant space where Baby Girl will happily and quietly play with something, put it away, and get something else out. And it will stay organized and peaceful and we will live a happy and uncluttered life every single day. This image is fleeting. The moment is non-existent.

Maybe I’ll go to Target again today.

Baby Girl comes from a long line of chocolate lovers/hoarders. My Granny hid Reese’s Peanut Butter cups for us to find long after she died. My mom is the ultimate M&M-aholic. And don’t even get me started on dark chocolate. I could probably survive on little else. (Well, and wine, of course). So when Baby Girl discovered “coc-wet” her whole little world became instantly brighter. And she likes ALL kinds of chocolate. Nothing goes wasted with her. Last night she wanted “coc-wet” and I said No.  She has never had a bigger fit or more tears over anything in her little life. Tried explaining it’s supposed to be a special treat. No, it was the end of the world. Which I can totally appreciate because really, life without chocolate just isn’t worth living. I swear my Granny somehow had Reese’s Peanut Butter cups stashed in her coffin.

She still didn’t get the coc-wet though.

The kid is “hungwy” all the damn day long. Every five minutes – MA! I TOO HUNGWY! I TOO HUNGWY! But she wants chips, or fruit snacks, or pink cereal. She does NOT want apples or carrots or anything that resembles anything healthy. Did you know those little fruit snack packs have 11 grams of sugar per pack?! Now imagine a two year old eating about four of those in a row. I learned very quickly to check the sugar content. I’m a sugarholic myself so all this sugar-content checking is new for me. Eating less sugar myself and attempting to have Baby Girl do the same has created not one, but TWO monsters in my house this week.

If I make oatmeal it has to have about 5 teaspoons of sugar on it. I would insert an eye-roll emoji here if I could. What’s the point of the oatmeal I ask myself, if all she wants to eat is the sugar part? Absolutely no point whatsoever. Might as well give her donuts. Did you know a can of coke (not that we drink Coke) has the same amount of sugar as a donut? It’s crazy what you find sugar in these days. Peanut butter has added sugar! Crackers! Cheesy rice! Bread! Soups! For crying out loud. CROUTONS! Why do croutons need sugar you ask? They don’t.

We’ve been eating a lot of pasta this week, and ceasar salad – which amazingly, she loves. Fruit, tortillas, bread and more fruit. And chips. Lord, the chips. She will go and get them out of the cupboard and bring them to me, hiding them behind her back. Ma? She squeaks out. Ma? She’s afraid I’ll say No and is preparing for the inevitable tantrum. She can’t open the container herself yet. The best part is when she asks for something, and I give it to her, only to find it hours later, uneaten, on the floor in the playroom. Usually swept off the table by her little hand in order to make room for a new puzzle.

I’ve never been good at eating actual meals. Breakfast? Sure – always something sweet. Then I just graze all day until dinner. Occasionally I’ll make myself some actual lunch but this is rare. And I didn’t used to make “dinner” much either. A bowl of mac n cheese sufficed fine. Now, in an effort to be a better role model, I’ve cut down on the sugar and am making dinner each evening. But will she eat it? Noooooo….. she’ll (usually) happily sit down in her chair and wait to see what I present her highness with. Then (almost always) she’ll frown and say “I can’t eat.” And put the plate off to the side. She’ll cross her arms and put her paccy in and say “Down!”. Then later of course she wants coc-wet. Are ya kidding me kid? Occasionally she will play with her food and eat a few bites before the frown and the “I can’t eat.” The only success we have is mac n cheese or ceasar salad.

She’s currently insisting on more chips. It’s 9:45 in the morning. It’s gonna be another long day. Good thing Daddy is about to take over.

Is 9:45 too early for wine? Which, in case you didn’t know, doesn’t have any added sugar. Just saying.

It’s hard to do much when you are sleep deprived. It’s also hard to do much when there is a constant high-pitched whine in your ear saying “Mama pway!” “Mama sit on couch!” “Mama I hungwy!” “Mama WATCH” and any number of other demands. Baby Girl has gotten awfully bossy lately. When I say “Mama has to work right now” or do laundry, or make dinner or go teach or anything other than meet her demands, Baby Girl responds with screams, tears, tantrum throwing, trying to push me out of my chair or into whichever area she wants me in, and the thing is she does not give up. Not easily, not quickly, and not for long. Leadership skills a parent says. Huh. Maybe when she’s 20 they’ll be leadership skills. Right now they’re just annoying skills.

And Mama does play. A lot. And I’m not even actually allowed to do anything. I’m only allowed to sit in her presence and do exactly what she tells me to. If I try to color she immediately has to color exactly where I was coloring. Or she takes my crayons away. If I try to play with the dolls in the house she grabs them out of my hand – NO! THAT’S not what I want them to be doing! If she wants to throw the ball around I am told precisely where to sit and where to throw. The only thing I am allowed to do is puzzles. And that’s only because she can’t yet do the bigger ones by herself. If I try to get up and leave after what seems like a reasonable time to me (5 minutes is good, right?), there’s immediate tears and yelling and tantrum throwing. Seems like a lot of effort to me but hey, I’m not two.

And I feel bad. Because she’s alone a lot. No other little kids to play with. That’s why she loves her school so much. When I pick her up I’ll ask her – did you have fun? YES! What did you do today? I DID SCHOOL!! That always makes me laugh. And she’s always asleep before we get home. Sometimes I’ll ask her about the other kids in her class. Do you like Kinley? “I wike Kinley” Do you like Noelle? (Sometimes this one is yes, and sometimes it’s no). Do you like Colt? “I wike Coat!” Imagine this in an adorably southern accent and you’ll think it’s the cutest thing ever too. I’ve asked the teacher how she interacts with the other kids and she’ll tell me that she likes to “claim” her toys, and sometimes she’ll let the other kids play with her and sometimes she won’t. “She never gets mad at Kinley when Kinley wants to play. But she gets mad at Noelle a lot – they butt heads.” Says a lot, really. Kinley must not question Baby Girl’s authority.

And Baby Girl doesn’t always whine and cry and boss me around. She does play by herself sometimes. But lately she’s been very tired. And when she’s tired, or not feeling well, only Mama’s full attention will do. And she’s tired because she does not sleep well. She doesn’t sleep well so I don’t sleep well either. So we’re both tired and cranky and it makes me have no energy for playing or anything else. I just concentrate on surviving.

Baby Girl goes to sleep in her bed at night, easily. Doesn’t take too long. But the problem is that she doesn’t stay asleep. And if she wakes up, she gets up. Immediately. And comes into my room. Now, I’ve asked for and received plenty of advice regarding this problem. Used to, I’d get upset and make her go back to her bed. And then I’d have to sit in the chair in her room until she fell asleep. Once I was able to sneak out it would typically be 30 to 60 minutes before she was up again. And we’d start over. Naturally this was taking a huge toll on my sanity. Eventually I’d give up and let her in my bed to sleep. However, the kid snores and moves around A LOT and nobody but her was getting any sleep this way. So, after considering a lot of advice from a lot of good people, I decided to try melatonin. Sure, it worked. She went to sleep almost immediately, just like she was supposed to. But then she was up again an hour later. Apparently melatonin only helps you fall asleep – not stay asleep. So back to square one. Next I tried a pallet on the floor beside my bed. She got the hang of that pretty quick and we reached a truce where she would get up and come in my room and lay down and go to sleep on the pallet. Didn’t even wake me up. This lasted for about 3 nights. It was nice while it lasted.

Lately she has come into my room earlier, and going to sleep on the pallet, but not staying there. (Whisper) “Mama. Ma? Mama? need water! Ma?” You don’t need water baby, go back to sleep. “WAAAA! need waaaatttteeeerrrrrr!” Then Daddy leans over the bed – Go Back To Sleep! She hits the floor. (Daddy means business). An hour or two later… during which time I haven’t slept at all because I’m listening to her snore and solving world problems in my head… “Ma? Mama? I scared.” You’re not scared baby, lay down. Huge sigh from Baby Girl. Yet again another hour or two later…. “Ma? Ma?” I sit up in bed. BABY GIRL DO YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO YOUR BED? “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” THEN LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW AND GO TO SLEEP! Whimper whimper. A couple times I have given up (again) and let her sleep in the bed with me.

A sleep chart and prizes had zero effect. Someone, and then a few someones, said I should get her a puppy to sleep with. A live one. Um. First of all – we are not dog people. We like dogs. But not in the house, and certainly not in the bed. Second of all – allergies? She already has trouble breathing when she’s in bed. And thirdly, and perhaps most important, there is no guarantee that the dog will sleep in the bed with her. I mean, I wouldn’t, if I were a dog. That’s a small bed.

So we’ll just have to be sleep deprived until we get this all figured out. Makes it easy for her to get what she wants, because I am all will-powered out. That was probably her plan all along…

I’m not going to pretend that these last few weeks haven’t been rough. The murder of a local police officer hit us all hard. The inauguaration of Trump – being full of trepidation and trying to be full of hope as well. And, well, let’s just add some business woes, potty training and two year old stubbornness in there too.

One of the most difficult things we are expected to do (and in fact impose on ourselves) is to pretend everything is alright when in fact it isn’t. It may be a bad day, a bad week or a bad year, but you are going to say “I’m fine” when someone asks you how you are. Unless they are a close friend, they are probably not really interested in your answer anyway.

So when it comes to potty training I continue to say “we’re doing fine – it’s slow, but it’s progressing.” When I actually want to pull my own hair out. A mom at Baby Girl’s school proudly told their teacher that her own baby girl just needed two more stickers on her “potty chart” in order to get the Mickey Mouse waffle maker she wants. I listened silently, and inwardly stunned. A sticker potty chart? A waffle maker? These things HAVE NOT OCCURRED TO ME. First of all, as much as Baby Girl likes stickers, she would not for a second wait until she potties to take charge of ALL the stickers and put them where she darn well pleases. I can see the fight a mile away. No, Baby Girl, you can only have a sticker when you go pee pee in the potty. (I cringe and wait for the WAAAAAWAAAAAWAAAAA scream of all ages). Baby Girl definitely has her own ideas about things. Or if I took her to see a Mickey Mouse waffle maker but we didn’t leave the store with it? OK, well we can for sure actually do that, but to try and explain that she gets to bring it home only when she learns to go pee pee on the potty all the time? I just can’t imagine that this would go over well. But, Hell, maybe it would. I think sometimes that being old and tired limits my ability and enthusiasm for thinking outside the box.

I think I might have to try something drastic, though, with the sleeping problem. Baby Girl wants mama to stay in Baby Girl’s room ALL NIGHT. So that any time she wakes up Mama is right there. This is just a habit, y’all, no nightmares or scared of the dark or monsters under the bed. It is simply another way that she wants to control her environment. I totally get it Baby Girl, and I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to you, BUT I AM NOT STAYING in your room all night. She is way too stubborn and crafty for her own good. I put the door handle thingie on the door so she can’t get out and she rips that thing off in less time than it took me to put it on there. My mother suggests bribery. So in the coming days I will be making a Sleep Chart and filling it in with little stars, I hope. With a prize at the end of a week of staying in bed (or even just one full night). I’m not at all sure this is going to work in any way other than just pissing Baby Girl off even more. I’ve also considered putting a baby gate in her doorway and leaving the door open. I honestly think she’d climb that thing like Mt. Everest though, in about 2 seconds.

And as for being an older mom with her own business where you deal with parents and children – well sometimes you just get downright morose over the whole thing. Especially when something has been festering that just won’t bust open and be healed. And confrontation is not your strong suit. Everyone knows that a riding instructor pours her heart into each student she has. Especially in a very small program. And when there’s a thorn – it really goes in deep. But you smile and say you’re fine, and you do your job and you say nothing. Because, really, what is there to say? Words alone very seldom change anyone’s way of thinking, once a decision or an impression has been made.

Which leads to this whole social media thing. FaceBook is wearing me out. All the politics, the “woman’s rights”, the racism, the protests, the marches, the disgruntlement, even people trying to use FB as a freaking horse vet. (Good God please just call a damn vet!). And for the Love of All Things Holy, just stop already with the “can I get an Amen” (or a like) for this poor creature or whatever. Yes, I believe in Jesus, and No, God is not going to grant me a miracle for professing this in someone else’s Meme. I just want to post pictures of Baby Girl, see sweet pics and videos of kittens and children, laugh a little, and live my life without conflict.

So next time you see someone that might be “fine” maybe look just a little deeper. Maybe try to see the person behind the words. Maybe try to recognize yourself in their troubles. And be kind.

As I sat in the chair in Baby Girl’s room last night, waiting for her to fall asleep, I began to reflect on how big she’s getting. There will come a time when she no longer wants me to sit in the chair in her room until she falls asleep. When she will not demand me to Rock! the instant I say “It’s sleepy time!” and continue to demand it all the way down the hall, into her room, into her bed, turn the music on and the lights off. She won’t say Rock! one more time as I lean down and kiss her forehead and respond “I always do.” One of these days we won’t be watching the stars on the ceiling from the ladybug nightlight and we won’t be listening to the strains of Mozart and Bach. A little hand won’t sneak out from under the covers to say “No Mama! Don’t go” if I get up to leave before she’s fully asleep. The Peppa Pig sheets will be replaced by something more grown up and it will be a twin bed instead of an adorable toddler one. I look at the mural of the owl and the tree on her wall and wonder how old she’ll be when she wants to paint over it, and if I’ll cry when she does. And if she’ll roll her eyes at me because I do. Will the chandelier her Grandma bought still hang? What will become of the Dr. Suess framed prints? Or the pink owl lamp her Grandma and I bought the day we learned she was a girl?

Already I look back at the days gone by. I remember the agony of breastfeeding in the middle of the night, when she wouldn’t or couldn’t latch on. I remember the tears and the struggle to understand when she wouldn’t stop crying because of acid reflux. The sweet sweet smell of her little baby head next to my cheek. How itty bitty she was and how I had no idea what to do with her. How long it seemed to take for her to learn to sit up on her own, to stand, and finally to walk. When feeding her a bottle was the most precious moment of time. I remember when she started climbing out of her crib and we switched her to a toddler bed and she slept on the floor for months out of protest.

Someday she will no longer ask for hugs and kisses during dinner time. She won’t take my face in her hands and look inquisitively at me and say “Ma? Ma?” just to be sure I’m listening. She’ll stop asking if I’m ok every time I cough, because I do the same thing to her. One of these days I’ll get to take a shower or a bath without her wanting to do it, too, and maybe I won’t even really notice when that day comes. I’ll get to eat without having to share. I won’t have to sneak chocolate when she can’t see. I’ll be at work in my office and she won’t want to be in there with me. She’ll have more important things to do. Someday she’ll want to go ride without me watching, she’ll want the keys to my car. She’ll want her own phone and her own computer. She’ll want to sleep til noon and we’ll have arguments over nothing and everything.

So, Baby Girl, I will be happy to sit in your room every night until you fall asleep even though some days I am so tired myself I feel like crying. When the nights are tough and it takes you an hour to fall asleep instead of twenty minutes, I’ll watch the stars on the ceiling, I’ll play Words with Friends with my Mom on my phone, I’ll listen to Bach and Beethoven. And I will remind myself that with each passing day we get closer to the time when you won’t want me there, or need me there at all. Your room is my favorite room in the house, after all. Every single thing in it, including you, was chosen or made with love and prayers. So go to sleep, Lovie, Mama is right here, rocking.

It’s already the 4th of January and I have not even thought about Resolutions. Who has time for that anyway? Not parents of 2 year olds.

I’m busy attempting to get Baby Girl to sit on a toilet and pee pee. I resolve not to have a heartattack when she pees on the floor instead. I will remind myself that at least she didn’t pee on an indoor play slide at a public facility. (Shout out to GWR! You are my hero).

We’re over here trying to learn not to spit food out in mama’s hand or on the floor when she doesn’t like something and to throw it in the trash can instead. I resolve not to gag over chewed up peanut butter crackers in my hand.

Baby Girl enjoys pulling out toys that I just put away 5 mins ago and strew them all over the house. She will literally follow me around while I inanely pick things up and grab them back out of their assigned locations exclaiming NO! MINE! MINE! TOY! I resolve to wait until Baby Girl is asleep before attempting clean up of any type in order to avoid a meltdown. Hers or mine.

I resolve to buy stock in the Chobani yogurt company and to sell said stock the instant Baby Girl decides she hates yogurt and always has. Which of course will be when the yogurt market is in an upswing (thereby paying for her college education) and I have 1,284 boxes of yogurt in the fridge. Too bad it’s not gold bars. Or chocolate.

When making an effort to do something with Baby Girl’s crazy head of hair I resolve to try to be more patient and empathetic to her pleas of OW OW OW NO NO WAAAAAAA when I’m yanking the tangles out of her hair. As she squirms and wriggles and slides away from my weapon, er, hairbrush. I will more often ignore the rat’s nest on top of her head and discard those dreams of perfect plaits and bob-curls and pony tails.

I resolve to spend more time reading with Baby Girl and taking long bubble baths by myself. I will find more fun things to do with Baby Girl that are not in my own house – thereby reducing the magnitude of the wreck and my own madness. However we will avoid indoor play slides for the time being.

And finally, I resolve not to lose my shit entirely over the never-ending drama that accompanies getting dressed in the morning and getting undressed at night. I know, Kid, I don’t want to get dressed in the mornings either. But not wanting to put PJ’s on at night? Come on! That’s the best part of the whole day! How is it torture for you? It’s just a control thing, isn’t it? You’re just trying to make me crazy, aren’t you? Can you pleeeeaaaazzzzzeeeee make it simple just this one time? Sweetly and silently let me change you? I’ll give you chocolate! Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Yeah ok it’s a control thing. I get it. Someday you’ll be wearing a bra. Then you’ll know.