I feel like I could start every day with the description, "long and exhausting," but today really was particularly so. The two oldest were up early, and I dragged all three out to a playdate which shifted our schedule around to such a degree that we had no organized lunch, only one nap for Michael, and no real naps for Abby.
Add to that a potty training success in the afternoon (we timed her sitting session just right to catch some pee) followed by a total meltdown with the realization that candy treats didn't come automatically from asking to sit back down on the potty right after getting up off of it. Then I found myself having to gauge the sincerity of the requests that followed: actual need vs. misguided grab for sweets. In the end, I sat her down twice more in the space of thirty minutes, leaving her poor sister screaming and subject to her brother's flailing arms and intrusive hands in my attempts to work quickly, and (as I had suspected would be the case) got nothing for my efforts. Nor did Abby.
That whole ordeal left me feeling like I must be doing it all wrong. Heck, I probably am. But I can't give treats for every attempt, right? I'd end up with a chocolate-covered toddler virtually glued to her potty seat all day...
Dinnertime was fraught with overtired toddler and cranky newborn fussing, crying, and screaming, and I was chomping at the bit to get bedtime started by the time it was all done. But it's not over 'til it's over. And it still ain't over.
I started Mia's routine before 8:00. Diaper change, swaddle, nursing, low lights in the bedroom. I've tried twice since then to get her situated in her sleeper after finally getting her to sleep. No dice. Tom tried twice more. Just before the fourth transfer from bed to sleeper, we both took a moment to admire her peaceful form. So sweet. So beautiful.
So cutting into the precious "me" time that I have left.
As she began screaming in her sleeper for the fourth time, Tom finally scooped her up, tired as he is after his late-night grocery run, to walk her around so that I could manage a post tonight.
It's not like I'm not used to it at this point. I am. And it's not like I didn't expect it when I became a mom. I did. But the funny thing about sacrifice is that, while you'd think it would get easier to handle over time, it sometimes gets harder instead.
As the sun begins to set (ever later) in the sky each night, my dreams are few: to get the dishes done, to blog, to decompress for just a few moments before drifting off into what passes for sleep these days. However, add a stubborn newborn to the mix and even those meager hopes are dashed more times than not.
She's so worth it- she really is.
It's so difficult, all the same.