Today I didn't even have to use my A.K.

I am currently that special kind of tired that only comes from really good days. Havoc and I basically slept until 10 (he was up for about an hour somewhere in there, but played in bed with me while I dozed). Then my friend Ann gave me my very first pilates lesson, which I apparently did not completely suck at. Then we had some friends (including Ann and some friends of hers who were in from out of town) over to grill, which never fails to be a good time. Then McKinney Falls, which was a surprisingly good time even though I usually hate it.

There is absolutely no point to this post except to prove that I don't only bitch. Sometimes I'm pretty stoked on life, too.

Parenthood, please forgive the language.

So Tim and I were just having this drunken conversation about life and children, and I was comparing life to Stephen King's Pet Semetary, and Havoc was screaming bloody murder in the background, and the SyFy version of Being Human was on TV (the "I want you back (from the dead) episode, oh man), and FUUUUCCCCKKKKK. We just lost a dear friend, (which will get it's own post as soon as I'm ready to write it), and we just sold my beloved Darla (my very first ever car, and yes, I cried when the new owner drove her away), and man oh man, it's been an emotional week...

*sigh*

The point.

If you had come to me two years ago, and shown me the absolute best day I would have in the first year of parenthood, and the absolute worst day I would have in the first year of parenthood... I know no parent is supposed to say this, but... goddamn, I would have gotten a hysterectomy. Being a mom is fucking HARD. It's a lot of stress, and worry, and freaking out over nothing, and finally getting him to sleep through the night but not being able to sleep through the night myself because oh-my-god-he-hasn't-woken-up-in-hours-he-surely-must-be-dead-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god...

Oh, my god. It's so hard.

Havoc is amazing. He's potty training, and he's walking, and he's so sweet and loving affectionate, and oh, god I love this kid SO MUCH... but there are hands down moments when I would trade his crying for a solid night of sleep. He's the happiest kid I know, but I still want to sleep till noon! I still want to have, ahem, "alone time", with my husband without interruption! I still want to have nice things! I still want my goddamn jeans to fit (although I shouldn't bitch because the jeans are too big instead of too small but whatever, the sentiment is the same). I still want to be myself instead of being just Mommy. But you know, fuck, man, that isn't an option I have anymore.

I guess being a parent, though, isn't about being willing to trade a screaming baby for anything... it's about not being willing to trade a smiling baby for ANYTHING. Because those smiles, and those laughs, and those hugs, oh man the hugs... the hugs are worth more than anything in the whole world.

Everything in it's place... I wouldn't trade this life for all the good nights of sleep in the world. My kid, as much as he sucks sometimes, is the best thing that ever happened to my little world, and I'm lucky to have him.

It just takes some thinking about sometimes.

Sleep adventures

When Havoc was born, he slept like a champ. Most nights, he slept for at least five or six hours at a stretch, and he was super easy to put back to sleep once he did wake up.

Well. Somewhere around six months old, he decided that I'd had enough sleep, and he flat out refused to sleep. He was waking up screaming bloody murder every single hour, every single night, and putting him back to sleep was awful. He would cry and cry, and the only way to calm him down was to nurse him, but at that point he'd gotten a few teeth, and he would bite me. Hard. A lot. I was sleep deprived, frustrated, dehydrated, and sore-nippled. Poor Tim bore the brunt of my exhaustion, I yelled at him all the time despite the fact that he was doing everything he could to help. I was completely irrational. I bought books, I read hundreds of internet articles, I called or emailed every mother I know for advice, I cried buckets, and I drank gallons of vodka.

One day, I reached rock bottom. I was moments away from a complete nervous breakdown, and I just couldn't do it anymore. I sat down with Tim and told him that I wanted to try the one thing we both swore we'd never do... cry it out. I felt like a terrible mother for even being willing to consider it, it seemed like such a mean thing to do to my poor baby, but I was losing my mind. Tim agreed, and we settled in for a long miserable night.

When I put Havoc to bed, he cried. And cried. And cried. For an hour, he screamed. Then he just... went to sleep. And he stayed asleep for four hours. He woke up, and he screamed. For twenty minutes. Then he slept for a few more hours. He woke up and cried for less than five minutes.

The next night, he cried for less than twenty minutes.

Now, he cried for less than five minutes at bedtime, then he sleeps through the night. Like, through the night. Not the technical definition of sleeping through the night, which is only five hours at a stretch, but through the night! He sleeps between eleven and thirteen hours at a stretch.

I'm human again. It's glorious. I have no idea if this is going to keep happening, but I'm going to enjoy it as long as I possibly can.

Now, I'm not saying that this method would work for everyone. I'm certain that it doesn't work for everyone. But, man oh man, did it work for us.