Recently you have begun to revolt at bedtime. I ask you to say night night and we march off to bed. I lay you down, tuck you in, give you a bottle and leave your room, something you've been accustomed to for a while now and never had an issue with. Things have changed. Now when I leave your room the tortured screams begin. The wailing of someone who has just had their fingers surgically amputated without anaesthetic... has nothing on you kid. You shriek until your voice breaks and your breaths jerk your body like violent, grand mal seizures. "BAD MOM" echoes down the halls and are almost amusing in their grandiose accusations. On nights where your father is working I find your antics more than a little difficult. It seems Puck is his fussiest at night and doesn't want to be off my breast for long and you now insist I don't leave your room until you are asleep. I have tried breast feeding while sitting by your bedside during your difficult nights; but you are much more interested in your little brother than you are in sleeping.
Tonight was one of those nights where no one but Gabriel wanted to cooperate at bedtime. I thank my lucky stars for Gabe who seems to know when mommy is at the end of her rope and not to push it. I finally gave up, after running back and forth between you and Preston, and just shut the door on your tantruming frame. Thankfully you were tired enough that your shrieks lasted only minutes. Sometimes being a mother seems like the hardest thing in the world. I wish I could split myself into three so I could address your distinct, individual needs simultaneously. But I am only one person and unfortunately for you, Puck is the newbie and my number one priority at night.
But rest assured baby girl, when I have a little extra time, and a little extra help, I will quietly sit at your bedside and watch your face become peaceful as you slowly drift off to sleep. You may not be the baby anymore but you will always be my little girl.
I love you,
Mom.
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