Scenes from Easter weekend at the Grand Hotel, Point Clear, Alabama.
It’s such a magical place. Just over an hour away, but it feels like you’re a world away. Magnificent oak trees with Spanish Moss. A little candy kitchen. Beautiful flowers in full bloom. Tea time. Croquet. Hammocks.
I love this Easter tradition of ours.
The children are up waaaay early from their naps. And they’ve found some intense magical energy source that’s making act like they’re on cocaine. I actually fell asleep, hard, because I have been getting very little actual sleep at night due to a certain one year old who still wakes up screaming bloody murder at least 3 times between 11 and 5.
Emma is chasing the dog and yelling what sounds to be Vietnamese obscenities at her.
Kylie just said something about filling a bucket with water and I’m praying she’s using that over active imagination of hers.
Oh hell. I hear running water…
A few weeks ago Emma discovered my belly button while nursing. She stared at it intensely, poked it, pinched it, put her toe in it, scratched it, slapped it, and tried to latch to see if food came out. Then I pulled up her shirt and said, “Look! You have one too.” She bent her head all the way down, lifted her belly and found it.
For weeks it’s been look at mine. Find hers. She can not get over the concept of the belly button. Any time I take her clothes off she goes straight to it.
Last night I got Kylie out of the bath, and Emma’s world was again rocked when she saw that Kylie has one too.
Emma stood straight up. No assistance. It was fast. She stood so solidly. No wobbling. Just bam. Standing.
All for a belly button.
Now she’s attached to Kylie like a barnacle. She’s been playing with Kylie, but now she lays one her, hugs her, follows her like a lost puppy. It’s like she’s admitted her into our exclusive club. The one for people with belly buttons.
And she stood up.
Him: why do you cut Emma’s food up so small? You could probably give her larger chunks.
Me: fine motor skill development.
Truth: It takes her longer so I can finish my food and the dishes.
Emma hasn’t napped for more than 40 minutes all day since Saturday. She hasn’t put herself to sleep since learning to sit herself up nearly 5 months ago. Not kidding. She wakes up every 2-3 hours at night on our best nights.
To say the sleep situation is out of control would be quite the understatement. We’ve tried nearly every no-cry/ minimal crying solution google can come up with.
I’m tired. And stressed. And short-tempered. And losing weight. And breaking out. And it’s awful.
I’ve been trying so hard to manage, but I’m at a breaking point. I don’t know what else to do except check out Ferber from the library as soon as it opens tomorrow. And my only issue with it is that I’m scared it won’t work.
We’ve had a long week.
Emma has been under the weather and just downright miserable. She hasn’t been sleeping due to a combination of waking herself by snoring and choking on her own snot. Nursing went from impossible to difficult. Naps? Ha! She hasn’t napped since Sunday. She’s one. She needs naps.
She is finally on the upswing. We had her 12 month check up this morning, and after talking to the doctor we decided to go ahead with her vaccines. Two shots on a sleep deprived baby make for a little girl who has not been hesitant to express her discontent. All. Day. Long.
After an epic wailing, throw herself backwards and punch and kick everything fit, she snuggled in my arms as I sang softly in her ear.
I am now serenaded by her soft snoring as she sleeps on my chest, mouth wide open, limbs limp.
Sleep, baby, sleep.