This week has been a monumental fail. Parenting fail after fail after fail. But, since this is supposed to be an upbeat post, I thought I’d talk about sleep.
For whatever reason, the babes have returned to their newborn schedules of waking up one to three times at night. Which is why they end up in bed with us. And this is what usually happens.
Sometime around 2 AM: Emily screams at the top of her lungs, I stumble out of bed, cursing, sure there is something dreadful happening and retrieve her from her room. I place her in the middle of our bed and hope she sleeps.
Close to 4 AM: Andrew starts whimpering, than crying, then screaming. Once again, I stumble out of bed*. This time I go to the kitchen, prepare some milk, then pick him up from the crib. I scoot Emily closer to her dad, place Andrew next to her, and hope he goes back to sleep.
Probably around 5 AM: Kids start rolling and jumping around, laughing, and alternate between sticking their bums on our faces and pulling our hair. I grab them, grumbling nothing but sweet words under my breath, take them back into their rooms and hope they will sleep for AT LEAST another hour or so in their cribs.
Sooner than I wished: Kids wake up, yell, “MOM!” (Emily yells, Andrew babbles something like dadad mamama tyenah (Tylenol, his first word), I stare at the ceiling wondering how long I can keep them in their rooms.
My sleep is less than optimal while they are in bed with me, and, rather than figuring out why they are waking up, I do what I can to expend the least amount of energy possible in the middle of the night.
It may not be the best solution, but it works for me.
*Since Ben is working two jobs, I think it’s best that he gets all the sleep he can. Still, there are many nights where he takes his turn with the kids.
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