Have you ever had one of those days? You know, the one where you rather hide away cowardly under your covers than try and bravely endure the battles of life.
That has been our week in this house.
I wish that every post I write could be filled with positive encouragement, singing birds, and sunshine blazing over the mountaintops.
But that is not real life. Reality is messy, complicated, and has a tendency to be dark on certain days (or weeks for us lucky ones).
For anyone who read my post about sleep training, I apologize for wasting your time. Delete any recollection from your memory, because those days have died my friends. Maybe I lack the stability for the consistency that is needed to train a baby (or human in general). Or – my theory – my son is as stubborn as his parents and therefore no traditional methods will work on him. This has resulted in one of the hardest sleepless nights (actually, weeks) I have experienced yet.
Let me be vulnerable here; I am at my worst in the middle of the night. My lack of patience and irritability are almost comparable to when I’m driving in traffic. Middle night trials are no joke. Sometimes I let Andy cry, shut my bedroom door, bury my head in the pillow, and cry myself. I don’t know what to compare that feeling with; defeat, failure, anger, annoyance? Whichever way I try to define it; the result is the same: I feel like the worst mom in the world.
Adding to the exhaustion, my husband has been sick. I feel for him (or at least try to), but if I can be honest for a moment – no offense Michael – men are the BIGGEST BABIES when it comes to not feeling well. We joke (that term is used loosely) that me being in labor is the equivalent to how he feels when he’s sick.
Regardless of that little rant, I promised to love him in sickness and in health (the latter is much easier), and that means I feel the urgent commitment to take care of him. With Andy in our lives, the measure I focus on is taking care of the baby, Baloo, and the house while Mike lays in quarantine in the basement (seriously, Andy getting sick is my BIGGEST fear). And even though I know this is the right thing for us – it doesn’t make it any easier.
Now, I know there are others out there with substantially greater situations than what I am experiencing. But in these moments, in my own little candid world, taking care of everyone has resulted in an anxiously lifeless, emotionally driven, mess.
So yesterday, in between my contentious episodes, sobbing (yes, not being able to use the bathroom in peace for 5 minutes can do that to a person), and crying out to Jesus, I decided to throw my hands in the air and (attempt) to accept the mess.
Harry Potter DVD’s went on, girl scout cookies were eaten (2 boxes and I have no shame), and coffee was a brewin all day – it truly is the little things that can make a huge impact on your sanity. Baloo had a play date with his girlfriend, which was an immense blessing in this house, Andy went down to sleep at 8:45PM, and alas, momma was able to write – or at least put up some teasers.
Last night didn’t get any easier. Andy was awake (again) by 11pm. This time, however, I guiltlessly gave in and let him sleep with me. I witnessed the sweetest smile on his little face, as if he knew he manipulated the game. We slept almost the entire night through, so, it was worth it. We woke around 5:30 this morning so he could eat, and once he fell back into his slumber, I laid him in his crib, and two hours later, he is still asleep (which is why I get to write this super long narrative).
I have no idea how the rest of the day will unfold. It could be as chaotic as the last, or it could be a turning point towards a beautiful weekend. Whichever way the world spins, I try to remind myself in these (few) still moments, that no matter what happens, I am still, and always, anchored in hope. This is where the light meets the dark.