Sleep and the second child

One year ago today, I got the biggest news I've ever gotten.  Again.

 

It was the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for, and the year that played out has been one of the very best of my entire life. 

 

It's worth noting, though, that this was also pretty much the last time I slept through the night. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I love my sweet baby boy.  But between the hours of 1 and 5 a.m., I could stand to love him a little less. 

 

Logan goes to sleep beautifully.  He is laid down awake and happily puts himself to sleep at about 7:00.  He usually sleeps until about 11, when he gets a bottle from his daddy.  All of that has actually been easier this time around; Leah did not like the "drowsy but awake" concept at first.  For Logan, it comes naturally.  But that's the end of the night-time success.

 

Because after that, it's pretty much the Mom Show all the way through the night.  Yes, the breastaurant has a neon sign that flashes Open 24 Hours!  At almost four months old, he still wakes at least every two hours between 11 and 6 or 7 a.m., and very frequently it's much more often than that. 

 

Before I went back to work, I was off-setting all this non-sleeping with a nap in the middle of the day.  Although it was helping, it has reached a point that I can no longer deny:

 

I'm exhausted. 

 

Can't see straight, forget my own name exhausted.  Lose my words, head-rush, snap at my husband for no reason, slightly afraid to drive in the car exhausted. 

 

During my pregnancy, I was sleeping in 3-4 hour stints.  Sometimes when I woke, I could go back to sleep.  Often, I couldn't. 

 

Who knew that these first nearly four months would make me desperately long for the days when I was actually pulling 3-4 solid hours?  Because, if I'm honest, we're talking more like 45 min to two hour power naps at this point.  If you can even call them that.

 

We're working on it.  Partly, I'm not sure he's ready to night wean.  This kid honestly eats every two hours like clockwork.  Doesn't matter if he gets breastmilk or formula, or even breastmilk with rice cereal in it.  He eats only enough to last him 2 hours, and then is ready to eat again. 

 

The part we're really working on off-setting is his totally intrinsic need to use Mommy as a human pacifier.  His instinct is to suck, just as strongly as Sister's was.  The difference is, Leah used the actual pacifier, which left her much more equipped to deal with putting herself back to sleep.  And left me catching a lot more zzz's. 

 

 

It's worth it, there is no question.  Even this season is only temporary, though it feels like I'll never be fully rested again. 

 

And when he goes off to college?  I plan on sleeping for at least a week.

What could possibly go wrong?

Bath night is getting fun around these parts!

 

 

...So... the pink bather is back.  And our boy is in it this time around...

 

...And so far there haven't been any inquiries about gender-specific parts that certain two year-olds don't have...

 

...So...

 

that's a win, right??

Animals in lights

It's no secret that we love the zoo. 

 

 

So this year, for the first time, we braved the crowds and the cold to go to zoo lights.

 

The Courtney family joined us, with their girls Ella (4) and Ava, who is only a few months younger than Leah.  The girls had a blast, and I always love hanging out with these beauties!

 

 

Santa stop 2012

Whew. 
I'm a little sick from this emotional rollercoaster I've been on for the past 24 hours or so.  It would have been much better with cotton candy or a corn dog or something.

I had about two hours to recover myself yesterday after the horrible news before Casey had to go back to work.  I'd pretty well committed myself to lame-o parenting for the remainder of the evening in a poor attempt to conceal just how torn up I was about the whole thing.  We were for sure going to watch Caillou's Christmas movie and go to bed early.

But on his way to work, I got a call from my husband.

"So... you might want to bundle up the kids and come to the pool house."

Slowly, and after much internal debate, I did.  And it was so, totally, beyond worth it.

Because as it turns out, Santa makes a little appearance in our neighborhood. 

Accompanied, of course, by coccoa, home-made cookies, and horse-drawn carriage rides through the neighborhood - complete with caroling teenagers.  Yes, seriously. 

For the last three years or so, when we load up the car to look at Christmas lights, I've said that we should drive through the potential neighborhoods we were considering moving to.  It's just smart - I mean, if they have lots of lights, it's got to be a good place to be, right? 

But never, ever in my wildest dreams would I have imagined something like this.  I mean really.  Where does something like that actually happen?? 

It turns out... in my neighborhood.  Have I mentioned that I love our house?

 

 

I didn't get any pictures of the kids with Santa, but Leah did so amazingly well.  She told him about her letter, and about the toy she wants for Christmas.  She was so excited, and spoke politely and just like a big kid. 

It was an incredible blessing.  Even though there is so much to do to get this house in shape, we could not have picked a better place to live.  And it was a much needed reminder about how much beauty, wonder, and good there is in this world.  I've never stopped believing it.  It just helps to be reminded sometimes. 

I mean, Santa stopped by.  C'mon...

My worst nightmare revisited

I couldn't decide whether to put this down for the record.  I've been on and off, and on the fence again as I hemmed and haughed over what to say.

Because there is so very much I want to say - and yet it's all too horrible for words.

So for the record, I didn't find out until about halfway through the day.  My 8th graders were testing, which meant that I didn't have access to my e-mail until about 12:30.  When I opened it, the school had sent out an e-mail which contained the two words that can send me plummeting: School Shooting.

I typically have to leave it alone.  I just can't go there; it's simply too painful. 

But this time, I read the words "Elementary school" and I was caught.  Sickened.  So I clicked the link, and completely broke down sobbing as the truth that was too awful hit me again and again.

Babies.  Precious.  Tiny.  Innocent.  Just a few years older than my own tiny ones. 

It touches places in me that I can't even begin to describe: my own horror about what the inside of that classroom looked and sounded like.  The heroism that was the staff, using the only weapons available to them to shield those sweet babies, even when it cost them their very lives.  The parents, whose lives are absolutely, fundamentally changed in ways they can't even begin to process yet.  The awful weeks and months that are ahead of them, full of news coverage and memorials and funerals. 

And then the deafening silence that follows, in which they have to begin to piece together what is left of their world.  To define what normal looks like when your everything is torn apart.

It's too horrible for words.

And I am again struck by what a scary world we live in.  How terrifying it is to allow your heart to go walking around outside of your body.  So vulnerable and treasured.  How many times over I would take my experience if it means my precious babies don't have to go through something like that.  How powerless I am to prevent it.

Aim the guns at me.  Hurt me.  Shoot me.  Kill me. 

I remember waking up that first morning - April 21st.  I remember vividly the way it felt to open my eyes.  For a single, blissful moment I was unaware of what had happened.  And then it all came rushing back and I wanted more than anything to just go back to sleep, to be burried in the oblivion and not acknowledge any of it.  I remember how it overwhelmed me. 

I remember forcing myself to fake it those first few days.  To go through the motions when all I wanted to do was stay in bed.  To chew and swallow.  To get dressed and put on makeup.  To move. 

I remember that people used to remark at how strong we all were for getting up and going on.  And I remember thinking, "well, what else is there?"

As a parent, I pray I never have to confront such loss.  Because I'm fairly certain that I would find out the answer, that I would flirt with and probably discover exactly what else there is.  I don't know how you face it.  Particularly when it is such a senseless and disgusting act of violence. 

And now I have to stop.  It's just too horrible for words. 

Dear Santa

 

Oh, how this girl melts my heart. 

Very, very little input from her mother was needed here.

 

Although I will take credit for doing the actual writing...

Parade of Lights

I love this tradition.

I don't think we're ever going to get any snow here, but it does make for awfully nice weather to enjoy a parade. 

The little was enchanted watching the goings-on from her daddy's shoulders, and the littlest was asleep, snuggled up with me. 

I love being a family of four. :)