It has been a ROUGH 36 hours up in this joint. It all started with a craptacular night for the Big Lady. Well, really, it was hell for all of us. Brooke's body has decided to rebel against her transition from breastmilk to formula. Not sure if it's formula in general or the type of formula I'm giving her, but she is one gassy gal! On top of that, the husband and I are a mess. Our allergies have started a "Say No to Fall" campaign and, as a result, we are both a big, fat, coughing, snotty mess. (Add snot to the ever-growing list of bodily fluids I'm not afraid to blog about.) So when Brooke decided she wanted to wake up at 1:45 and then stay up until 3:45, we all suffered.
Now when I say she was "up", I don't really mean she was awake that whole time. I was, she wasn't. She didn't, like, cry for 2 hours straight. Trust me, if she had, the husband would be blogging about this right now because I would have checked myself into a padded room at the hospital. (And that would be tragic, because the husband isn't nearly as witty as I am.) She's not one of those kids that cries endlessly- thank GOD. Here's how it goes with her: she cries out, I go in and give her the pacifier & rub her back until she falls back asleep, I tiptoe out, climb into bed, and 5 seconds after I get comfortable she cries out again. Repeat. For hours. Sometimes she gets so worked up that she stands up and reaches those chubby arms up for me to pick her up. And, sometimes, I do. Because I'm a sucker for those big now-brown eyes. When that happens, I sit and rock her back to sleep, then stealthily transfer her back to bed (as stealthily as one can when one has to literally drop her into bed because it's so low to the ground.) This has about a 25% success rate; most of the time she pops back up and we start all over.
I promise this is as painful as it sounds. And sometimes it goes on forever, as it did then. So as I'm up and down messing with her, getting no sleep in between, I'm also hacking up a lung and trying to figure out how to breathe. Hot mess, folks.
Somehow - I'm still not sure how - we survived the night. I knew that the day was going to be just plain awesome. And it was. I spilled formula all over the kitchen floor. Brooke peed on the carpet mid-diaper change. (This was actually hilarious. She wiggled away from me while I dealt with her smelly diaper. Before I could pull her back to get a new diaper on, I noticed she was sitting in a puddle. I was laughing so hard, I didn't have the strength to lift her pee-soaked body. So as the husband begrudgingly picked her up, shouting "This is why we don't have pets!", I was racing up the stairs in a fit of giggles to get the bath started.) Basically, I was in a fog all day. The lovely, whine-filled day was capped off by craptacular night number 2 last night. Same 2+ hour fight to get her back to sleep. Same groggy, foggy Mommy today. And poor Daddy's not doing much better.
Needless to say, we could all use a nap.
No comments:
Post a Comment