I love my baby with every ounce of my being, and the time we spend having fun and playing together is amazing and wonderful. But I have to confess something, and I hope people don’t judge.
I dread putting my kid to sleep. It is the most exhausting process and often puts me in tears. I hear this is normal… a “sleep regression.” She used to pull my hand and drag me to her bed. Now I drag her, kicking and screaming.
During the week, Rylies’ teachers tell me she is happy to take her nap, every day, at the same time. In fact, she clears a space for her cot, climbs on and shuts her eyes in no time.
Our weekend naps are not so simple. Neither is bedtime. No matter how tired she is, Rylies’ legs get more and more active as her eyes get heavier and heavier. She kicks me in the stomach, the face, she kicks the walls, puts her feet between the slats in her crib and kicks…just out of control kicks. She thrashes around and I can’t get her to stop. It takes nearly 2 hours to get her calm enough to fall asleep. Imagine your worst night of sleep, when you toss and turn, get tangled up in your blankets, can’t get your head just right to be comfy on your pillow… that’s Rylie.
Adding to that is my usual stress of having to finish up something for work, or do something around the house that hasn’t been done in days in the short amount of “me” time I have before she wakes back up.
I shouldn’t complain. I have a happy, healthy baby. Perhaps it’s the stress of not having my husband around this weekend, and the growing list of things I have to do. I really wish at this time I could lay down and take a nap myself.
Not the most uplifting Easter post, I know, but it’s the reality of my day today. Time for me to get off my booty and get ready for round two… only an hour before she’s back up and running.
