last night.

7:45pm: Fell asleep in Solomon's bed after reading books.

8:30pm: Wake up sweating. Stumble to the bathroom, take off pants, and fall into my bed.

11:00pm: Startled awake to Rainer crying.

11:30pm: Put Rainer back into bed, and fall into my bed, again.

2:45am: Jolted awake by Mr. P shoving Rainer on top of me. (apparently he had been up with him for 45 minutes already)

3:30am: Finally get Rainer back to sleep. Proceed to read some Anne Lamott on my phone to get tired again.

5:00am: Rainer awake, crying for "wilk" "wilk." Too tired to protest, I shove a bottle at him.

7:15am: Boys awake for the day.

Happy Friday! If only that meant something to my children.

So tired.

So, so tired.

the swirling of thoughts.

The weaning is over. It was a rough 3 days or so, and now it seems he's (mostly) forgotten about it. The waking up at night is still a thing, however. But, it's better. Teeny tiny baby steps with this one; there is no rushing him.

He seems to be dropping a nap, which I'm hoping will eventually translate to better night-time sleep. The nap is longer and more pleasant, which makes everyone happier. He rarely sleeps in his pack n play anymore, but instead on Solomon's old bed which is basically a single mattress on a wooden box. It's so cute when he walks out of the room like a giant when he wakes from his nap.

Kisses are abundant. The other day I was laying beside him gently urging him to sleep. After several minutes of stillness I thought for sure he was sleeping. But, suddenly he popped up and searched with his tiny hands in the dark for my face. When he found it, he cupped my cheeks in his palms, giggled and planted a slobbery kiss on my mouth. I died, as you can imagine.

Sometimes I'll come across a beautiful girls name that I love. I'll be sad for a few moments as I remember that name will most likely remain faceless in my heart. But, then, I snap back to reality... which is pretty dang awesome. 

This week we are "pet-sitting" Solomon's classroom (stuffed) monkey, Monkiki. I'm reminded of the small joys in the life of a four-year-old. You would think we are hosting the President's daughter for a week.  For the first few hours, Rainer was super scared of Monkiki, which, of course, we thought was hilarious and provoked him just a few times. (wink) So far, Monkiki has been clothed in Rainer's clothes, fed in the highchair, dressed as batman, and pushed on the swingset. I'm sure he'll be in for many more adventures.

I've been researching gyms in our area that provide childcare. It's been getting a little more difficult as Rainer grows to make do with jogging and pushing him in the stroller. I'm looking forward to expanding my workouts, and hopefully tightening all those "loose ends" left over from my pregnancy. I think the time apart will be good for us both.

I've been experimenting with cooking Thai food lately, since we can't find any in our city. I made this curried fried rice with tilapia the other day, and it was yummy! I used up the leftover red curry paste with coconut milk for tofu-veggie stir frys over quinoa, too.. which were also a hit.

What have you been thinking/doing/planning/cooking these days?

sleep woes.

woe is me.

no, for reals.

he might look sweet and innocent here, my friends, but this kid.

he is testing every last ounce of patience Mr. P & i have. we have exhausted our resources to the point where we've resigned to the tyranny of this tiny human. his wish is our command.

i remember once upon a time thinking "oh those silly parents. their baby controls them. it can't be that bad. just let him cry and he'll figure it out."

ha. hahahahaha. bwahahaha.

now i understand. you see, there are babies. and then there are "special" babies.

lucky, or unlucky for us, Rainer is extra special.

the most wonderful time of the year.

::exhales::

right this moment is the first moment to just be "me" in ... awhile. last week was a very hard week. one of those where it seems everything that can go wrong, does. nothing huge... just the culmination of a bunch of little bummers piled up to make one long week to plow through. my ear infection seems to be treated, so i'm sleeping again. there were a few days there where i genuinely feared my descent back into the black hole of insomnia.                     ::crosses fingers::                  i think i'm past it.

i was talking to a friend the other day who is going through a very rough time with anxiety. he reminded me that the root of anxiety is, and always will be, fear. the power fear holds in his life, my life, our lives, is mind-boggling. we are creatures of control... and when we feel out of control, we become that very thing we fear.

in the midst of all of this, it is advent.  the most wonderful time of the year.

each morning Solomon walks bleary eyed out of his bedroom, tousled bedhead, crusty eyes, and the first thing he utters is, "it's time for da cawender, wight mommy?"   love him.

this christmas season, there is so much to relish.

two (mostly) healthy boys. my husband's job. a roof over our heads. a car that works. a savings account. we have everything we need, and more.

this morning at 6:30 a.m. i assembled pumpkin spice lattes in the crockpot. and now, three hours later, i am enjoying heaven in a mug. i kid you not. i *might* have drank the whole pot. and i *might* have topped it with three heaping spoonfuls of homemade whipped cream.

ahhh.

tiny indulgences. tis the season for them, no?

just write

weary bones.

when a week goes by and I don't write in this space, i suffer.

my parenting suffers, my relationships suffer, my mental health suffers. i so desperately need this therapy; i need the words to seep out from within to find their proper home. life is wearing on me. the combination of a stressed out husband, a sick child, a teething baby, and no time to myself slowly chiseled away my patience until something inside me exploded.

in the dark, feeling so alone, feeling like i had not one drop of energy to tap, I grabbed Rainer and yelled into his innocent face WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! It had been almost two hours in the middle of the night at this point... feeding, pacing, rocking, tapping, shushing, almost falling over from exhaustion. as a mommy, i feel like i can't be exasperated. (though i am. we all are.) there is not the luxury of reaching the breaking point, but it happens, and there i was.

and then I crumpled in a ball on my bed, wailing, giving up. heaving sobs into my pillow, for no one in particular, but because my body did not have the energy to house them any longer.

there is nothing noble about my behavior. and it's not a surprise it came to that. my anxiety has been building, a gradual tightening inside. upcoming travel, holidays, inevitable winter illnesses, a baby that is so hard, there are moments when i doubt my ability to take even one more step forward.

so here i am in this space, where i often find myself when i think i can't possibly go on. onto small black squares with white letters, the combination of them all something magically healing, my fingers tap away these yucky thoughts, the negativity, the weariness that turns to despair.

i'm leaving with palms open, breathing deep breaths, knowing that just in the nick of time, i will receive something that's just barely enough for the next step i must take, feet heavy as they are.

the crying thing.

When Solo was a baby he started sleeping 12 hours through the night at about 7 months old. And, he's basically been an awesome sleeper since then, except when he's sick. In order to "night wean" him we (by "we" I mean Mr. P. I was sick.) simply gave less & less milk at his 4am wake-up until we altogether stopped. (he took pumped milk at night at that age.)

Simple as that.

So at 8-ish months old when Rainer was still nursing 2-4 times a night, I knew it was time to put a stop to it. He couldn't be that hungry, and I knew he was capable of sleeping all night.  Mr. P was on summer break, so I figured he could do the night consoling, and I slept upstairs on an air mattress with earplugs.

It took a week.

Not a week of whimpering. A week of hour-long scream fests, sometimes longer. This child is stubborn. Persistent. And, boy, has he got some lung capacity for shrill shrieks. But, it worked. He mostly consistently slept through the night about 10+ hours for, oh, two months. & Those two months were glorious.

Fast forward...I moved back downstairs. (could he smell me?!)  Rainer got sick. He started waking up at 5:00 a.m. Then 4:00 a.m. Then 2:00 a.m.

Aaaaannnnnd we are back to where we started.

Frustration does not even begin to describe it.

Last night at 2 a.m. (this is after we gave him a "top-off" bottle at 10pm) he screamed for one hour straight with no signs of stopping, until I felt like my skin was being burned slowly and then peeling off into crispy shreds all over the bed.

(sorry)

I picked him up. & he stopped immediately. Those heaving baby gasps for breath broke.my.heart.  I just can't do it.  But, I don't know if I can go back to nursing all night long either. (Um. We're supposed to be weaning. Ha.)

I know that nobody has answers. I just wish my baby would sleep. And stop screaming.

Please, with the screaming.

at bedtime.

Did you hear that?

That enormous heave of a sigh that echoed off the plateau of Guadalajara, through the canyons of Northern Mexico and into the U.S.?

Holy. Crap.

Mr. P is working late tonight & I just executed bedtime by myself. The "process" took over an hour. And that's without baths (no way was I going there).

So, it basically consisted of me attempting to nurse Rainer in the side-lying position in Solo's bed as discreetly & calmly as possible, while creating a peaceful atmosphere for bedtime stories and Solo's sleepiness to follow. However, Rainer took a late nap and, to put it lightly, he had a little excessive energy.
'Sleepy-calm-nursing' was more accurately slurp-grunt-fling body-roll over-scoot off the bed-giggle-snort-make Solo laugh-sorta-nursing.

Thus, the hour-long kid-wrangling act. During which I had a few moments I'm so NOT proud of.

After apologizing & asking Solo to forgive me for my harsh words and quick temper, he snuggled up into the warm spot where my neck meets my collarbone and he exhaled. It was a long day. He left for school with Mr. P at 7:15 a.m. and went to a birthday party afterwards with a classmate, not getting dropped off at home until 5:00 p.m. (He's too big for his own good.)

Why is it I miss him so terribly and the void of his absence engulfs me, yet I lash out in frustration with such ease in the moments it takes him to unknowingly turn his pajama shirt inside out? Or when he provokes just a few extra giggles from his baby brother? Why am I fixated on the clock and "the thing" I want to do as soon as his eyelids close during the time I should be most present ?

Mr. P has a work trip coming up. I'll have a few more nights to fail miserably at this. (hold me.)

Or.

Or a few more nights to do this thing differently. To be present. To be patient. To run that last lap with perseverance and focus. To give my boys my undivided attention as their eyelids grow heavy and their breathing soft and steady.

The tucking-in-bedtime-story days are numbered, after all.

noise.

Living in mexico means very little silence. life around me surrounds me, envelops me, never lets me be alone. the noise is persistent, consistent, predictable.

Mondays and Fridays it's the fruit vendor on his loudspeaker, more often than not stopping in front of our house exactly as I lay Rainer down in his crib. My baby's little body shudders at the intensity of the disruption, and I mutter expletives under my breath.

Tuesdays and Fridays it's the water truck ringing our bell and banging on our metal gate. I appreciate their service, but sometimes I just want peace.

Quiet.

Daily, around 9:00 a.m., the guy on the motorcycle selling tortillas starts his loop, horn beeping nonstop, his annoying voice screeching... TORTILLAS!!! Even if my mouth is salivating at the thought of warm, fresh tortillas, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a sale. I'm stubborn like that.

Currently: birds squawking, the hum of the Coca Cola truck as it idles in front of the mini mart two doors down, the soft vibration of traffic a few blocks behind me, the 80 year old Mexican gardener chatting on the sidewalk in front, the ocean waves of our sound machine running in vain, my baby's suckles on his pacifier over the monitor.

Noise.

With the very little sleep I got last night, I'm annoyed. Each and every sound is mocking me. I know it's nobody's fault. Life continues as it should, people trying to make a living, cars doing as they are told, nature oblivious to my desires. But sometimes I just want it to all be still. Including time.

Just to stop for a little while. You know?

-----------

Just Write

inexplicable.

God, you've blessed me.

I woke up with my sick baby 4 times last night, one of which included crying for almost an hour.

I'm so lucky.

My 3 year old still has coughing attacks, and we're not sure of all his food allergies, and it's often he doesn't sleep through the night. His tantrums are fierce and his mood swings unpredictable, but his hugs are gold and his kisses magic.

I'm so incredibly, inexplicably lucky.

Two boys, two perfect and beautiful boys, with their distinct personalities and needs and demands, with their growing love and attachment to one another that literally takes my breath away daily... Them. Entrusted. To me.

I'm so tired. So beat down-exhausted-haven't slept through the night in well over a year-drained. But, if I can look past the weariness and the daily nonstop demands - and today I CHOOSE to look past them - I see that what I have is incredible in ways even I can't wrap my mind around.

That I was chosen to be their mom, that they need me (which so often I complain about their need for me), their silky smooth skin and gummy smiles and contagious laughter and sparkling eyes.... given to me at a cost that sometimes feels unbearably & endlessly hard ...

and yet,

I'm so so unbelievably, undeniably lucky.

My God, how you've blessed me.

~~~~

My words today are born of the grief I feel for Diana and her heavy loss; a loss that my mind cannot fathom, explain, or understand.

currently.

Reading: I just finished Bloom by Kelle Hampton (AWESOME) And started Operating Instructions: A Journal of my Son's First Year by Anne Lamott a few days ago... & I love it so far! I'm on an inspirational-memoir kick and I can't stop!

Watching: Ha. Hahaha. Absolutely zero time to watch movies or TV. I do, however, get in a few moments of Dora, Mickey Mouse, and/or Dino Train from time to time.

Working on: Taking better pictures. With our warmer weather we are outside all the time, and I've been inspired by the beautiful lighting and beautiful boys that surround me. I've captured a few gems recently!

Thinking about: Next year. I've been thinking about our friends who are leaving us this summer (especially Solo's lifelong best buddy). It makes me a bit sad to think about how next year will be quite different for us without them here. I read this post the other day and related on so many levels. If you ever have to say goodbye, you might relate, too.

Anticipating: This summer. (Who isn't?!?) We are just starting to talk & think about what we want to do with the four weeks Mr. P gets off in July. The beach? The mountains? Staycation in our backyard?

Listening to: TFDI - Slow it Down. Mr P found this song randomly & we can't get enough! We are also loving Robin Spielberg for instrumental, chill-ax background tunes.

Eating: Almond butter & celery, frozen cherries, tons of salad with goat cheese, pecans & cranberries, strawberry-banana-coconut soy smoothies, veggie stir-frys with Thai peanut sauce, Multi-colored quinoa from Trader Joe's (LOVE), and ice cream ice cream ice cream. It's hot here, people.

Wishing: I wish Rainer would sleep longer stretches at night. It would be nice to put him down at night and whisper in his soft, sweet ears, "see you in the morning, lovely boy." Unfortunately it's more like "See you in three hours, stinky face."

HAPPY MONDAY!!!

xo

~~~~

The idea from Currently posts comes from here.

baby boot camp.

I know people are wary of "Baby training" or "Sleep training." But, when you get to the point where one more sleepless night just might send you over the edge, something has to be done.

Rainer had developed the not so endearing habit of sucking on...well... ME all night long. It typically began around 1 am, sometimes earlier. Then continued at 3 am. And 4 am. 5 am. You get the picture. And, unfortunately, I am not one who can sleep while a small human is attached to me.

So.

I turned to my beloved Twitter in my time of distress, as I am known to do.

The Twitter told me to try Rice Cereal. oooh. Tempting. So very tempting. But, I really had it on my heart to wait until six months for solids. Finding out Solo has several food allergies left me weary. or wary. One of the two. Plus, I know my baby. Ain't no rice cereal gonna keep him down.

The Twitter also told me to pump and give a bottle before bed. As much as I love feeling like a cow, I'm about pumped-out-to-the-max already.

At this point? Cue vent e-mail to my momma.

And, wise as she tends to be, she wrote the words I so much dreaded to read...

"I think the only solution is to let him cry."

Alas, mommas are always right.

I'm happy to report that Day 1 (yesterday) of Baby Boot Camp went surprisingly well. Rainer took two of his four naps IN HIS CRIB (the other two were in the Ergo & stroller while we were running errands) with very minimal tears....like 8 minutes, tops. This is serious progress, people. This baby spent his first four months of life in my arms. Quite literally. Which I did love to a certain degree, but this momma's getting tired. and sore. Ouch.

Last night I fed him at 10:30. Daddy gave him a bottle at 12:30. I fed him at 4:30. AND THAT WAS IT UNTIL SEVEN A.M.

(all-caps necessary.)

Unfortunately, this is progress. Yes, it had gotten baaaad.

So.

Re-cap: I'm tired. Baby's tired. We're all tired.

Send coffee, preferably Stumptown.

Good thing HE'S ADORABLE

happenings.

Hi, friends!

(lookie! it's me as I type this! Love Photo Booth :)

I can hardly believe almost a week has gone by since logging in here.

My momma flew in on Sunday evening to spend three.whole.weeks with us! Needless to say, we're stoked! And it couldn't have been better timing since Solo has been sick all week, and now baby Rainer has caught it. (Last night I was up probably 15 times with him. I think that calls for TWO cups of coffee today, no?)  This week with both boys home all day & sick would have been all kinds of brutal without my momma here to help.

But also?  In a weird & twisted way I'm happy in my heart because dealing with a sick baby all night and still being able to get up, get dressed, and go out to enjoy my Saturday means I'm well.

I'm really well.

So, there's that to be thankful for. Can I get an amen?

And, since I'm having fun with Photo Booth...

This got checked off the list yesterday...

That there is Rainer Marco's Mexican passport! How adorable is he?!?

Baby boy is going to take his first trip to Oregon this March. He's pretty pumped... as you can see in the photo.

Have a great weekend!

in the middle of the night.

On Monday Rainer will be 12 weeks old. At this age Solo was still waking up once or twice a night, around 1ish and 5ish (I suppose 5ish is technically morning.)

Well, this little guy really likes his warm milk, lemme tell ya. He conks out by 8:00 at the latest, no matter what we do to adjust his routine. Then he is typically up to eat at around 11 or 12, 3:00 and 5:00. Give or take hours.

Ha. haha. ha.

With Solo I was at my wit's end trying to figure out what was "wrong" with him and why the heck he wouldn't "sleep through the night." (whatever that means.) I would analyze and adjust and bite my nails and ask the internets and pretty much STRESS OUT ALL THE TIME about what I could be doing differently and/or better.

With Rainer I don't care.

I mean, I guess I sort of care. A teeny bit. Like, in a "it would be nice to sleep more than 3 hours at a time" sort of way. But I don't really care enough to try to do anything to change it. (Granted, ask me again in a couple months if nothing has changed.)

The warm, snuggly nursing sessions when all is dark and quiet and it's just the sounds of him breathing and gulping as he latches on to me for dear life... literally...They are sweet. And they are not forever. And with this being my second go-around at this gig, I know that to be fact. In just a few months everything will be different. Babies are evolving, changing machines, and none of it lasts.

I look at my 3 1/2 year old "baby" and even the softness of his hands and feet has given way to hangnails and callouses. And I swallow the lump in my throat and caress his cheeks because that is the last evidence of baby.

Maybe this is strange (or maybe divine), but in the middle of the night, in its stillness and loneliness, I often think about all the other people around the world who are awake with me. The other moms nursing their babies, the teenagers crying over lost love, the couple grieving the end of a marriage, a grandma praying for her prodigal son. When I'm so bleary-eyed it hurts to open them, I remember my reasons for being up and moving against the protests of my body are sweet and good and wonderful. While others might be pacing an empty house, bodies wracked with fear or grief or anxiety (I've been there, too.); they might be fighting nightmares or flashbacks or visions of past lives, or overwhelmed with longing for lives they can never have again.

The middle of the night, it's an odd combination of sacred, still, somber, sweet.

If you are up tonight, let's think of each other, ok? Let's remember we are not alone in our toiling, we are never alone.

xo

adjusting.

We're back.

We survived.

Solo finally started feeling better on Saturday after getting on antibiotics. I'm so thankful that Rainer and I have stayed healthy. Mr. P is hacking like a smoker, but he'll make it. We'll make it.

But, can I just say that I'm completely shocked by how this baby has affected Solo? When I was pregnant it was all he could talk about. He was SO excited. So loving. So curious. So ready...

I thought.

I honestly thought the transition would be seamless. Smooth. Easy.

However, these past few weeks have been... for lack of a better word... Whoa.

Behavior-wise, Solo has entered uncharted territory. Needless to say, we are at a loss of what to do and really missing our sweet, sensitive, kind and incredibly well-behaved three year old.

I guess it's time we paid our dues, since I don't think Solo had a single tantrum as a two year old. But, honestly? We are sad. We miss our boy. The outbursts are overwhelming, seemingly so out of character for our little guy, and we don't know how to react.

He has taken to random bursts of growling, screaming, yelling, sobbing, hitting, throwing himself on the floor. He has to sleep as close to Mr. P as possible, and if Mr. P gets out of bed early Solo wakes shortly after and refuses to go back to sleep. He's exhausted. Naps have been short, with him waking up completely distraught and overly tired. We have found him chipping paint off the wall, ripping up books, painting on the tile floor, and putting on the baby's clothes.

Yes, you read that right.

Patience is wearing thin. We want to give Solo room and space to express his emotions, but how do you even begin to teach a 3 year old to do so appropriately when his entire world has flipped upside down?

There is no doubt in my mind Solo loves his little brother. He is incredibly gentle and sweet with him. The outbursts are not directed at Rainer, thankfully, but they are obviously a reaction to his presence in our lives and how our family has changed.

So, there's that.

Our family has changed.

How can a three year old really grasp this? Cope with it? Accept it? Embrace it?

How can we help our little Solo deal with these emotions swirling around uncontrollably in his little body, mind, and heart?

I suppose there are not any concrete answers, but it's always nice to hear,

"I've been there."

"It'll get better."

"You'll make it."

"You are doing great."

when it rains, it pours...

Our week in a nutshell:

Tuesday - Solo goes to school and Mr. P calls at 8:00 saying we need to pick him up because he's sick.  He takes an early nap and wakes up with a 103* fever.

Wednesday - Solo vomits in the middle of the night. I'm up for three hours straight between feeding Rainer, helping with Solo, washing sheets, giving showers... Mr. P goes to work completely wiped out. Oh, and it's my birthday. Yay.

Thursday - Solo still sick. He vomits his breakfast. Mr. P stays home from work. My parents leave for the airport at noon. I cry. I pull myself together. Then I cry some more.

Today - Mr. P up with Solo til midnight - fever, cold showers, coughing. Mr. P stays home from work today. We are making it work, one foot in front of the other. Taking Solo to the doctor tonight. Praying the rest of us somehow can stay healthy.

I know it could be worse. I know I shouldn't complain. But, really? Can't we catch a break?

sigh.

I'll be back to share happier thoughts when my sweet boy feels better.

a teeny weeny update.

My parents are here!

Four extra arms to clean & cook & bounce & hold & love & fold & snuggle & play.

Which (partly) explains my absence from this here blog. You know, that, & the tiny infant apendage I gained two weeks ago.

::TWO WEEKS! Tomorrow::

Things are going well. We are in a bit of a routine... as far as routine with a two-week old can go. We cluster feed in the evenings, I scarf down dinner, and we bathe Rainer at around 7pm. He has some alert time and then he and I retreat to a quiet, dim room to nurse and go to sleep together.

This has been my saving grace. Since his longest stretch of sleep is at the beginning of the night, I find I MUST take advantage of it and sleep with him in order to have energy for the multiple wee morning wake-ups. (it's been every 1-1.5 hours... eek.)

Also,

I'm practicing saying no.

I'm practicing asking for help.

I'm practicing self-care. And for me, self-care equals sleep. Lack of sleep is my numero uno anxiety trigger. So I'm being careful. And I'm being gentle with myself. And I'm still not thinking about tomorrow.

Today is all I have. This moment. Caring for my boys & me.

Happy sighs all over in this place.

Love to you all...

10 things I could do without.

10. Insomnia. Ever. If I never struggled again I would be SO OKAY WITH IT.

9. Pot holes. What is it about Mexico and messed up roads? Apparently the road crews are busy attending to other more important matters ... Like making sure the stop lights work at least 80% of the time.

8. Dog poop. You would think with all the advancement in technology there would be a dog food invented that doesn't require getting rid of the excess. You know, it would be "super efficient." Or something.

7. Pre-6am wake up calls. Thank you Solo.* At least you are just as cute at 5:45am as you are at 7:30. 'Cause if it weren't for that...

6. Traffic. I realize that I sortof brought the misery upon myself, what with choosing to live in a city of 6+ million people and all. But, there is a serious traffic ISSUE on my commute to work. I've thought it over, analyzed it, and come up with a variety of feasible solutions. Apparently, again, city officials are busy tending to other important problems. Like maybe buses being set on fire.

5. Anxiety. Of any sort. (Well, maybe a teensy tiny bit is healthy from time to time.) But, in general, I would love to rid it of my life. And poor little Solo has anxiety about going to school already. Makes me angry! I want nothing to do with it!

4. Cockroaches. And mosquitos. At least IN my house. Is that too much to ask? Please?

3. Zits. Ok, ok, I know it's vain. But, I'm going on 30 years old, people! When do these things end? (and if we're being vain, leg hair can go, too. Or at least the follicles with more than one hair sprouting out. Too much information? Oops.)

2. Banda Music. Eww. It's just awful. I know I'm being rude, but I can't help it. I have very strong feelings about this. What's that? You say you don't know what Banda music is? Consider yourself blessed. Can't control your curiosity? Click here.

1. People who cut in line. Happens a lot here in Mexico. Line etiquette is something that was severely neglected in child-rearing 101.

A very close runner-up would be dirty dishes. I am 29 years old and I've never owned a dishwasher. I think I need to add this to my bucket list, before it's too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now head over to Sluiter Nation & read Katie's list!

*From now on he's just Solo. (pronounced "Saul - oh") I'm lazy, what can I say?

on fear and how it creeps.

I've been feeling so great lately. The best I have in years. I'm sleeping pretty well (plus naps now and then!), eating healthy, exercising, socializing, setting goals. All good stuff.

and then it creeps in.

Fear.

It's so dang creepy.

My parents and I booked our tickets to Europe. Two weeks in April. I should be thrilled, ecstatic, over the moon. This is what I wanted, after all.

and then it creeps in.

Fear.

Typically starting with the What ifs.

What if my flight is delayed? And then I miss my next flight? Or my next one?

What if I can't find my parents in Hamburg?

What if I can't sleep on the plane? What if I can't sleep AT ALL?

What if my anxiety goes nuts and I am back where I started?

What if Solo-boy forgets all about me?

What if I can't sleep? What if I can't sleep? What if I can't sleeeeeeep?

The dialogue that goes on in my mind is really unbelievable. It is JANUARY, and I am already giving myself pep talks about how I will get through the night before I travel in APRIL.

It's quite ridiculous.

But, it is what it is.

We all have our struggles, right?

What seems to help is to allow myself to think the thoughts that will inevitably push their way in, and then as quickly as they entered, dismiss them. Speak back to them rationally and logically. Speak back to them with hope and truth.

What are ways you have managed your fear or anxiety?

Obviously I need all the help I can get.

it's a new day.

::HUGE SIGH::

Happy Friday everyone. It's been a long time since a Friday has arrived as long-awaited as this one. If you read my post yesterday, you understand how dramatic I can be. Sorry about that.

Today is a new day.

I was reading an online forum yesterday in a desperate attempt to get Solo-boy back on track and sleeping past the 4 or 5 o'clock hour. You know, for our sanity around here. Someone posted that potty-training can indeed cause your child to wake up in the wee hours because of the urge to pee. Understandable. They suggested to take your child to the bathroom right before you go to bed for the night so that with an empty bladder they will hopefully sleep in longer. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of this?

It worked!

I cannot tell you what a huge relief it was to me that he slept until the very late hour of 6:00 a.m.

{And, on a side note, I think my kid is brilliant in the area of pee sensations & bladder control. He's been potty trained for a whopping 6 days and has not once peed during nap or overnight. It's a little bit creepy, actually.}

And me, you ask?

I am trekking forward, taking it day by day, in this tapering process. So far, still no way to continue my medication that I know of. And I'm beginning to think it's OK. I want off. I just don't think I have the strength it will take sometimes. Maybe God has different plans for me. Maybe I need to learn to trust. And give up a little control now and then. And believe I can be healed.

P.S.

Today at naptime? I found a big-boy-bed-escapee yet again:

a hellish week.

Mr. P started work full time on Monday. It's a new job as a high school administrator. Which means long hours. And a big learning curve. And a decent amount of stress.

So naturally, it's been hard for the little Solo-boy and I. No more daddy around to entertain us and play with us and make the time go faster. We're on our own from 7:00 AM - 5:30 PM. I know I can't complain about this; many moms have it waaay harder. So I need to stop being such a wimp.

What's made the week super hard is Solo-boy's crazy sleep/wake habits. We transitioned to a big boy bed when we got back from vacation. He was obviously way too big for the pack n play. Poor little guy was squished in there like a sardine. But, let me tell you: I miss that thing! Now I have zero ways to confine my child. It's a bigger change than I anticipated. At first he was doing pretty well. A little harder to put to bed at night, but nothing too drastic. I figured with a little more time everything would be back to normal.

So, I thought, what the heck? Let's potty-train! (Do not ask me where I get these crazy ideas to do EVERYTHING at once.) My goal was to have Solo-boy potty-trained before his 2nd birthday. With all the traveling we did in July, I knew it would have to be potty-training boot camp as soon as we were back home. Thankfully, he's done GREAT. I am not even lying when I say we have not had a single accident since Day 1. He actually loves to go in the potty just to be able to flush. He wakes up dry from naps and in the morning.

In the morning.

This is where it has gotten hellish. Now, we all know my kid is an early riser. Both of us are as well, so it's in the genes. That's alright. We get by.  6:00, 6:30 a.m. is do-able. But 4:00freakingAM is so NOT ok. 5:15 AM. No can do. 4:50 AM Enough already! It's days like today, after almost a week of this madness, when I feel like I'm being tortured by my 2 year old. It sounds awful, but I wake up and I want another life. Just for a few days.

What I think happens is he naturally stirs around 4 or 5 AM. Then he remembers he can get out of bed now. And that he is supposed to pee in the potty. And then while he's up to pee he starts to feel that pang of hunger. And he's thirsty. And after all of this? There is no hope of getting him back to sleep. But he's also so overly tired he just wails on and off as we struggle through the morning.

You guys. I'm EXHAUSTED. I'm WORN OUT. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Is this normal? Is this to be expected when making the bed transition and the potty-training? And most importantly, is it short-lived? (Please, please say yes!)

Naptime: Escaped from his bed & collapsed on the floor from exhaustion

Naptime today: Again escaped and passed out in this chair.

To expound the hellish-ness that is this week, I found out I can no longer get my medication. Yes, you read that correctly. The medicine I'm on to help with anxiety and insomnia I can no longer get here in Mexico. Not good timing for the Solo-boy Sleep Boycott. I know I wanted to taper off soon anyway, but to have it forced upon you is never a good feeling. And to not be able to access it if I decide I need to? Is scary. I am down to 1/4 my original therapeutic dose and have about 7 nights worth of that, and then nothing.

I'm nervous.

I am seeing my former psychiatrist on Monday to talk it through and discuss options. I have this horrible fear that after working so hard to get to where I am, I will be hurled back right where I started. That place is not a pretty place. It is wracked with fear and anxiety, anger and self-loathing and sleepless nights.

A couple of nights ago, after putting Solo-boy back in his bed at 2 AM I started to panic. It's hard to explain, but I get images of everything closing in on me. It's awful. It's those moments when I miss my old life.

This is a total downer. I know & I'm sorry. I've been avoiding this post all week. But all I really know to do is to be honest. And hope and pray it gets better. And to wait for someone to say You Are Not Alone.