goodnight moon.

oh man.  today started rough.  stella up at 4:30 and unable to settle back down.  of course when she does lincoln wakes up.  and not a good wake up.  a screaming wake up.  matt grabs him and then it’s all four of us in the bed.  i never realized how small a queen-sized bed is until it holds a family of four (and a 20lb cat).  then it’s sardines in a can, everyone grumbling until finally matt and lincoln get up at 6.  then stella decides she’s up too.  i lay her next to me and hide my head under the blanket.  i had been having dreams of rollercoaster rides.  extreme ups and downs, controlled chaos.  doesn’t take me long to connect the dream to my current life. 

lincoln continued to cry and yell, something that would be carried on until he finally napped around 11.  somedays it seems like nothing will make him happy.  maybe he’s still tired.  maybe his teeth hurt.  maybe last night was rough and he still remembers it. 

nights are hard, bedtimes are hard.  when we get home stella wants to sleep but lincoln needs dinner, bath, and bedtime too.  the perfect scenario would be to put stella to sleep when we get home, that’s what she wants, it wouldn’t take much time.  a quick pj change, a little massage with the lavander oil, some nursing and rocking and into bed.  maybe 10 min tops.  lincoln doesn’t seem to understand this.  he stands in front of me the whole time screaming at the top of his lungs.  yelling at me, with tears running down his face and snot pouring from his nose.  why? because he wants to me be with him.  i am simply not doing what he wants me to.  my patience evaporates, my nerves start snapping one by one like guitar strings breaking.  i can almost feel the screams breaking into the recesses of my spirit, kicking it farther and farther down until i think i might just not make it.  this time i might break.  but i sit there, calmly nursing stella and attempting to not make eye contact with the snot covered teary eyed toddler writhing in front of me.  what can i do?  stella keeps looking up like, “this happens to be bothering my sleep time.”  i smile at her.  i remove lincoln from the room and shut the doors to keep him out.  the right thing to do? who knows.  at this point i could only attempt to move forward in the ‘nightly routine’.  suddenly she’s out, i breathe deep and head out to meet mr. lincoln.

he’s standing at the door screaming, banging his goodnight moon book on the glass panes.  i grab him and read some pages, he jumps up-still sniffling-and runs to the fridge.  again, perfect world i would tend to stella while lincoln played, then come out and make him dinner and start his bath and enjoy some one on one time.  but now he’s upset, dinner isn’t enjoyed and the bath is hurried.  neither he nor i are happy anymore.  let’s just get to bed, i can almost see him thinking it.  i give him a bottle, figure he deserves the comfort, and pat him on the back.  more sniffles.  he doesn’t really fight it.  we both feel defeated.  i leave the room but can’t leave the feeling.  the feeling of failure.  of stress.  of sadness.  of self doubt.  tomorrow.  tomorrow will be a better night.

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