Okay, I’m being dramatic, I’m in the Valley, but still – this sleep nightmare has got to stop. I am at my wits end.
Until a few weeks ago, I was incredibly blessed in the toddler-parent-sleep-department. Scott and I would drop Dee in her bed around 8 – read her Goodnight Moon, and wish her sweet dreams as she happily popped her thumb in her mouth and went to sleep without a peep. [rhyme!]
BUT OHMYFUCKINGGODINTERNET, I don’t know if it was the passing of our German Shepherd Maddie, my trip to NY, or just general terrible two-ness, but holy wow does this girl hate sleep.
Lately, bed time in our house has started to resemble…I don’t know – the world is kind of too offensive right now for me to crack a joke about The LA Riots or Arab Spring, but it’s bad up in this mix. She screams. She manipulates. She pleads for mercy (no, seriously – if you haven’t yet had the joy of hearing your child scream the word PLEEEEEAAAAASE at blood-curdling decibels, you haven’t lived.) And she is vicious. It’s like she’s a Mogwai or the baby from The Incredibles or something. Last night she drew blood from my nose [which reminds me - is it just me or do kids nails grow crazy ass fast!?] while raging out in her crib in a way that makes me fear for her future spouse.
The night before last was the final straw. She was awake until 2am, and getting more demanding and agro by the minute. So yesterday, bleary-eyed and cranky, Scott and I came to the decision we’ve narrowly avoided for the last two years. We had to stop giving in. We knew it was going to be horrible, but last night was just crazy awful and emotionally draining, and holy crap…we’ll take all the advice we can get.
Is this normal? Have I fucked up my kid already?