Gettin' My Cuddle On

For a lot of different reasons, when Lizzie was a baby, we decided to cosleep. It just worked. But then, as she got older, more independent, she moved herself out and into her own space.

And now she's back. It's not every night, and sometimes it's not until the wee hours of the morning (which is convenient for DOH and I, wink, wink, nudge, nudge), but when she climbs up into our bed and snuggles up between us...I can't imagine anything better. Maybe it's because I've been gone so much due to work (something I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it), but I don't dislike the idea of the "family bed" in the way I thought I might when I first heard about the concept.

But this isn't even really about that.

It's not about a parenting style or choice. It's about having your sweet little one snuggle up next to you, give you kisses and tell you you're, "the best mama." All the cuddling and hugs and kisses and sweet words we missed out over the course of the day are more than made up for in those last moments before sleep. It's about having that physical connection again, especially at an age where you're lucky to get a quick cuddle in before your little Roadrunner sprints off to the next activity.

It's so easy to forget, as we play with and take care of our kiddos, day in and day out, that they're growing, and that they will soon become even less and less available for those squeezy tight hugs and extra wet and earnest kisses.

The things I love best about my daughter will constantly change, but one that never will is her cuddled up next to me, sleeping soundly, knowing she is safe.

Someone Amazing

So, the other night I was feeling pretty sick. Really, really rotten. I've had a cold for about three weeks and this past week was maybe the worst, mostly because I lost my voice (and felt like poo). Anyway, my mom basically ordered me to her house. And she made me supper. And she put me to bed. And the next morning she gave me a big hug and kiss.

I felt loads better.

This is just one of the many reasons why my mother is maybe the most amazing person I know. She is selfless, loving, and a happy and positive person to be around. Even when things aren't always so easy. I'm not going to go into great detail about my mom and what is happening in her/our lives right now, partly because my mom gets embarrassed when I give too much detail on this blog, and this stuff has more to do with her than me, but let me say, she's got a lot on her plate. She's busy every. Single. Day. And while my dad, my brother, and I do make attempts to be helpful, it's not enough. But she still keeps chugging along. With a smile on her face.

She is simultaneously caring for the family her lives in her home, family who live outside of her home, working a job, fulfilling other obligations, and dealing with whatever other unexpected things that crop up (like her 23 year old daughter needing to borrow $10 for gas because she forgot to ask her husband before he left for work, leaving her to meet said daughter at her granddaughter's daycare to drop off the money). I am consistently blown away by  her ability to multi-task and hold it all together at the same time. I can't do it, not yet, and I wonder if I'll ever do it quite as well.

All of those balancing act/Supermom things aside, the biggest thing about my mom that completely floors me is how much she cares about my brother and I, and how much of a good mom that she is. Obviously our relationship was/is not always perfect, but there has never, ever been a day in my life where I doubted the love of my mother or whether or not I could go to her with something. She has always been a solid and loving force in my life, even in the days when I would scream, "I hate you!" and slam the door in her face (Sorry, Mom...:-().

I've always said, if I can be half the mother she was to Lizzie, then Lizzie will have it pretty darn good.

There Should Be a Dating Websites for Finding Friends

Lizzie starts preschool on Monday (as Elizabeth, since she wants to go by that at school). I think I might die. Of excitement or anxiety, I don't know, but there is potential heart failure in my future.

But I'll update you about school next week.

What I want to talk about is how I don't have any friends. (I've been a bright little ray of sunshine lately, haven't I? No wonder no one hangs out with me any  more.)

Well, that's a lie. I have friends, and their great, but they're friends from high school. Friends who haven't had kids yet. Friends who are wonderful, but don't always get all the "mom" stuff I deal with. And that's okay. They aren't there yet, and I respect that.

But I really want some mom friends.

And with Lizzie starting preschool, I thought that maybe this would be an opportunity for me to meet some moms and maybe, I dunno, make some friends.

Well, today was open house for the preschool, so all the kiddos and their moms and dads and even some grandparents came to check things out. While parents mingled and chatted with one another, all seeming to know each other from somewhere (seriously, all of them knew someone), I stood back and watched Lizzie play with some toys and the student teachers and other kids.

I tried to stand near other moms. I smiled. I said hello. I complimented people's kids/babies.

Someone asked me if it was a gold or green student day (the preschool is at a high school, and the days rotate for the high school students who work at the preschool).

I said no, I didn't.

She looked confused.

Lizzie ran over to me and said, "MAMA!"

She looked really confused, then walked away.

She thought I was a high school student.

Awesome.

I am telling you, without fail, this happens to me any time I go to some sort of parent/child function. I'm either the student worker, the babysitter, the older sister, the nanny. Should I just have "I am a parent" tattooed to my head?!

I'm getting tired of this, and I feel as thought it's preventing me from making mom friends. I don't think they realize I'm the mom or they don't take me seriously as a parent (because, apparently being a young parent means you suck and aren't worthy of friendship or at least a cordial greeting). I also realize that I need to be more willing to step out of my shell and talk to people, but it's hard when everyone else is busy talking to one  another and they don't give you a second glance.

I realize I'm getting super pouty and having a bit of a pity-party, so I apologize. I realize this isn't making me out to be someone who people would really want to be friends with.

But, if you're out there mommy friends, I promise I'm not usually this annoying. I'm really fun! I swear! Really!

Please be my friend?

Recovery

My last post was a bit of a downer.

We all have off days, as parents, I think. That was one of mine. I chose to blog about it.

I'm still not sure if I should have or if I'm glad I actually hit the publish button after I wrote all that, but I did, and it's been out there for a few days, so I don't see much of a point in deleting in now.

But, in case you were wondering, I'm feeling loads better.

I've been a working mom for a month now, and I think I'm starting to feel it.

I'm very tired. I work a long day, with a lot of responsibility. I love it so much.

And I feel an intense guilt over that.

How can I love my work when I love my child? Somehow it just doesn't seem possible (especially when I can waste time that I could be spending with my family by having major emotional meltdowns?).

I know, at my core, what I am doing, working, expanding my horizons, bringing in a paycheck, asserting my independence as a woman and educator, are all good things. I am the product of a working mother, and there was never a day where I felt my mother didn't love me because she went to work every day.

I also know that my daughter loves her "day care" (it's a lovely, wonderful, perfect at-home set up--I could not have found anyone anywhere who is better). I know that she is safe, well-cared for, and so happy. I know she is happy to go there in the morning, but happy to leave in the evenings

And I know that my husband is happy with and respects my choices as a mom and working woman. He understands that I work hard all day and that things will be different during the school year versus the summer. He is a partner in our household.

So, when I have a crap day, when I feel loads of guilt over being away from home, from feeling just plain bad and cranky, I need to remember what it is I know. And what it all boils down to? I know that I am not a bad mother, and sometimes I've even a good mother.

And that's it.

Bad Mommy

Do you ever have one of those days where just know you're a totally crap parent. That, 10 or 15 years down the line, your child will tell you that her earliest memories are of you being really, really horrible? And that will frame their entire picture of you for the rest of their lives and they'll hate you and have to go to therapy and not be able to have a positive and meaningful relationship with anyone because YOU screwed them up so badly?

I'm totally having one of those days.

It's been one of those days where I understand why people encourage parents to be older and more mature before they have children.

It's been one of those days where I wanted to crawl under a rock and just die because I feel so badly about everything I do as a parent.

It's been one of those days where mere crankiness feels like it's much, much more and I start to wonder if I belong in a mental institution.

Our day ended with Lizzie asleep in my arms. We had finished getting ready for bed, stories read, songs sung (teeth inevitably forgotten to be brushed, something I only realized after she was sound asleep), and Lizzie was ready to go into her own bed. I told her she could fall asleep in bed with me. As you may have gathered, it had been a tough day, and I just wanted her close to me for a little while, for her to realize that no matter how crappy and grumpy I can be, I still love her.

As she drifted off in my arms, I looked at her. It's so rare for me to just look at anyone and really see what I have. I think most parents believe they don't deserve these perfect, all-forgiving little souls, but I truly do not. I'm still not sure how I won the good Karma lottery when this child was brought into my life. She is so good, so bright, and so beautiful, and yet I don't see all of it as often as I should.

I get caught up in menial things, things so incredibly unimportant, like the state of my  house or the new recipe I want to try out.

I don't play with her enough.

I don't talk with her enough.

I don't look at her enough.

And here I am, prattling on about having another baby when I still have so much to do and grow with in this baby. I still get that overwhelming sense of awe when I really look at her, not believing that this person is partly from me and loves me, even when I'm not all that fond of myself.

I think I need a focus shift, away from the material, which I can become very much obsessed with, more inward--in towards myself and towards my family and my interactions with them. I need to see more frequently (like, all the time) how blessed I am to have my daughter (and DOH) in my life, and I need them to feel that.

Am I the only one who has these kinds of days and realizes she needs to re-evaluate...everything?

For Me: Staying at Home vs. Working

Source

Since I had my daughter, I've been a student. This meant, during the school year, I'd attend class, go home, do work for those classes, and then maybe muster the time and energy to clean, cook, and actually enjoy my family. During the summers, however (and the blessedly long winter breaks), I was at home all day, every day. I could devote myself completely to all the things that had been neglected during the school year.

When I graduated this past spring, there was very little question over whether or not I'd go to work. For one, it would be nice to have the extra income. In college, I recieved a really excellent scholarship that covered my tuition, which meant any aid recieved from the government or my university went towards living expenses. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to manage rent, electric, and some groceries. But we couldn't afford a lot of extras, which, to be honest, are kind of nice to have. For two, I did just spend five years of my life working towards the moment where I could leave college and actually put my knowledge to work.

That said...I love being at home. I guess, because I had never really had the fully stay-at-home-mom experience (there was always school looming just on the horizon), I sort of glorified the idea. What would it be like to have all that time to do all that stuff? Of course, when you're actually in the thick of being at home, using all that time to do all that stuff, it doesn't feel like you have quite enough of the first and too much of the second. For me, when I'm home during the summers, somehow all that extra time goes the way of the missing socks in the laundry. I suppose it wouldn't be that different if I were home all year round.

Though, even when I could acknowledge that aspect of staying at home, I couldn't help still feeling like I really should be staying home. I'd like to think it was some sort of weird maternal instinct thing, like mother animals knowing what their babies smell like, or something. But, in reality, I'm a 23-year-old with a kid, who hasn't had a kid before, and is constantly looking for input. I'm impressionable. A few people (ranging from people I actually know, to mom bloggers, to "experts") telling me that I need to stay home with my daughter or else she'll grow up to be an extremely damaged human being is enough to make me feel horrible for not doing just that.

Plus, I like the kid, so it's nice to stay home with her (even though she's suddenly become a horrible napper).

But, I guess I'm going to have to let go of all that and trust that if she hasn't been majorly screwed up by things over the past three years, she's likely to be okay, because...I got a job.

And I'm really excited about it.

I want to work, and I'm not ashamed of that fact (much...some feelings are hard to let go of). And the plus of being in education is that I still get to have the time off that I'd enjoyed previously (when I'm not taking courses to help maintain my certification and earn my Master's).

I'm pumped about whole "having a job in a tanking (or tanked) economy" thing. It'll be great to have the extra money. And I'm really excited about being able to put my recently earned degree to use. But, those aren't the best things about this whole "job" thingy.

This is a job I'm passionate about. And, it's the perfect for me and for my family. Which, in the end, is what's important.

A Top Ten: The Books Lizzie Loves to Read

So, a couple of weeks ago, I did a post on the top ten books I can't wait to read to Lizzie when she's a bit older. This week, I thought it might fun to talk a bit about the books we love to read now.

Here are our favorite titles (in no particular order):

1. Baby Bear's Books by Jane Yolen. This book is a fun book celebrating books and how they can make any part of the day an adventure. The whole story is told in rhyme and is loads of fun to read aloud (one of my big prerequisites for a book that I'll read repeatedly). Plus, the illustrations are adorable AND the illustrator is a Mainer (always a plus).

2. Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus by Mo Willems. Mo Willems is a freaking super star in my house. This particular book and it's companion, Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog (I think there might be a third pigeon book, but I'm not sure) are hilarious. They are so much fun to read and the way the words and illustrations work together it's almost like a little T.V. show rather than a book (which makes sense, since the author wrote for Sesame Street and animated a couple T.V. shows I know my brother would be familiar with). Also, from a teacher's standpoint, I know if I ever teach a unit on the art of rhetoric (logos, pathos, and ethos) there are plenty of fun examples in this book.

3. The Arthur books by Marc Brown. I grew up with these books, watched the T.V. show as a kid (and I'll sit down and watch them now--they're good!), and just recently started picking up some of the books at the library for Lizzie. She really likes them! While they're definitely geared towards an older set of kids and the stories can seem like they might be a bit long for a three year old, Lizzie will sit through them and loves D.W., Arthur's precocious little sister.

4. The Knuffle Bunny Books by Mo Willems. The Knuffle Bunny Books (there are three) were essentially written for Lizzie. They focus on a little girl who's around three (though, in the first book she's an infant/young toddler) and her lovie, Knuffle Bunny. The language, pictures, and content speak to little kids and are such a joy to read aloud. They sort of are like a comic book, which I think is neat, and I love how the illustrations mix hand drawn pictures and photographs taken in real places (like New York City).

5. Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans. This is such a classic little girls book and Lizzie really loves listening to it. I love the rhyming (reading anything with a rhyme is fun) and Lizzie loves a story about a little girl. We particularly enjoy the part when she has to be rushed to the hospital to have her appendix taken out. The drama!! It's also a fun time to practice my French accent.

6. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. This was one of my favorite books to have read to me when I was a little girl, and now I get to take my copy and read it to Lizzie. We like talking about the book after we're done reading, discussing just what was it that made Alexander's day so horrible. Lizzie like the repeat of the whole "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day" (probably because I put a lot of emphasis on this). What's made me love this book even more, reading it aloud to Lizzie aside, is the fact that I got to write a really fun little blog post for a literature class last fall. Very esoteric and academic, yet so much fun.

7. The True Story of the Three Little Pigs by Jon Scieszka. Okay, first of all, Jon Scieszka made my childhood awesome. Between this book, The Stinky Cheeseman, Squids Will Be Squids, and his time travel series, I spent hours in stitches. These books are so funny! And The True Story of the Three Little Pigs is such an awesome retelling of the classic Three Little Pigs story. Lizzie thinks it's a fun read now, but I think she'll appreciate it even more once she's heard the original story a few times. I can see an older preschooler or kindergartener really getting a kick out of this story.

8. The Balloon Tree by Phoebe Gilman. I was given this book as a little girl by a friend of my mother who is an artist and interior designer. She has an eye for beautiful illustrations and I think that was the major thing that drew her to this book. The illustrations are enchanting. Seriously. They're detailed and colorful and rich. And the story ain't half bad either. It's about a princess who grows a balloon tree as a way to summon her father home when her kingdom is in trouble. It's an adorable story premise with equally adorable illustrations.

9. Good Night Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. I think almost every new mother or mother-to-be gets this book. It was actually the first book I was given for Lizzie when I was in the early stages of my pregnancy from my second grade teacher aunt. I read it every night to Lizzie during my pregnancy and I still bring it out every once in a while to read to her. She'll say goodnight to the all the little things in the room right along with me and tell me different things about the kittens and old lady whsipering hush. She also likes this rendition, which is one of my absolute favorite parodies.

10. Make Way For Ducklings by Robert McCloskey. Early on in our relationship, I dragged my husband down to a local book store, sat him down on a couch and read this book to him. I explained, "This is going to be one of the first books I read to our kids." And then I made him buy the book. Instead of running away (like he probably should have), a few months later he asked me to marry him. And we still have the book, and it was one of the first books I read to Lizzie. We love quacking away as Mother duck and her ducklings holler at passing cars and bikes to stop. We love Michael the policeman who calls Clancy and the station and saves the day. It's another one of those classic kids books that we eagerly enjoy over and over again. I also think I'd love to use it as a fun little travel guide on a family trip to Boston. Lizzie still doesn't believe me that there are giant swan boats!

Feeding a Kid

I made an observation this morning about Lizzie's eating habits--one I hadn't noticed before (though probably should have). She is very much a grazer, meaning she has lots of little snacks throughout the day rather than just eating a few larger meals with maybe a snack or two in between (which is how I've always eaten...and that hasn't gotten me very far).

I had heard somewhere (T.V., magazine, random person, can't remember) that "grazing" is better for you in terms of regulating calorie intake than having just a few large meals. Whether or not this is true, I'm kind of thinking that if this is how my kid eats, I'm not going to mess with it too much, because I realized this morning it gives me way more control over what she puts into her mouth.

Obviously, since she's three, I do have absolute authority over what I serve her at meal times, but she has the absolute authority (in my opinion) over what she chooses to actually eat. If I serve a meal with a veggie, starch, and protien and she eats all of the starch, some of the veggie, and none of the protien, then there is only so much I can do. I'm not going to force her to eat something.

However, during the day, when we're not eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner, Lizzie snacks a lot. And it's not Ho-Hos and Ding-Dongs. It's fruits and veggies and some starches, and I also try to throw in protiens where I can.

I've realized that when Lizzie asks for a snack (and she much prefers snacks to eating an actual meal), I'm frequently left to make the decision on what she'll eat (meaning, she doesn't request anything, though, of course if she does, I can veto). Sometimes I give her choices between two relatively healthy things. Sometimes I just grab something out of the cupboard or fridge and hand it to her, but regardless of what I do, she generally accepts whatever I have and eats it. And while I worried for a while that she was eating too much, I realized that 1) She's eating, by and large, pretty healthful things, and 2) that while she snacks a lot, it's not as if she's eating full blown meals at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

So far, this whole grazing thing has been pretty willy-nilly, mostly because I didn't really consciously realize what was going on. Now that I'm more in tune (and like I said, I should have been more in tune from the start), I can feed her more purposely throughout the day.

If she continues to graze, it's pretty much a guarantee she won't eat much at lunch and dinner. What I need to do is make sure her series of "snacks" throughout the day are well balanced. It won't matter if I serve well-balanced meals for her if she won't eat them. Also, while she already has very small meals at the typical meal times, I think making them more snack-like will work better. If I'm already feeding her balanced snacks throughout the day, then when dinner comes along (the meal she's notorious for simply not eating), it will be less imperative for her to have a perfectly proportioned meal on her plate. I could use dinner time to make up for whatever I missed during the day.

Now, I realize there are some flaws to this plan. In our culture, this whole snacking throughout the day lifestyle is not exactly embraced (heck, it's not even really embraced in this household). If this is how we consistently feed Lizzie, it's going to be difficult for her to transition into school (maybe), where the day is structured around one snack in the morning and then a big lunch. Maybe it won't even be an issue, but it's something to think about. The other thing is the convenience factor. Is this going to be easy to do, because with me, if it's not quick, convenient, and easy, chances are it's probably not going to happen. I have to find a way to get myself more organized in this regard (this may involve buying some tupperware...).

Feeding my child well is very important to me. I have battled weight issues for most of my life and I would rather not see Lizzie struggle the way I did. I want her to love all foods, not just the sweets and starches, and I want her to have a good concept of portions and to know when to stop eating (all things I struggle with). Hopefully this will help us get on that track.

Something Stinks

Lizzie farts...a lot. Sometimes it's by accident (which is fine). Sometimes, like today, she stood in front of me and forced a little toot out of her butt and laughed...really hard.

"Someone farted!" she yells. "Ooh! That stink!" And she laughs and laughs and laughs.

It's really hard to not laugh right along with her, but all I can picture, as I'm chuckling along, is Lizzie going to preschool and letting a big one rip all the time. I don't know if this is something we want to encourage...

I've covered a lot of different topics in this blog, ranging from books, to the royals, to our new house and, really, the whole new life our family is embarking on. But there is one thing, one person, actually, who I feel I don't quite say enough about--my daughter. So, starting today (which, coincidentally marks her 39 month birthday--not that we're so OCD we're keeping track), I'm going to try to write her a little letter or note each month. Just something short and sweet, partly for me, to remember some of the little things, but mostly for her. I want her to know how loved she truly is.

Dear Lizzie,

This is something I wish I had started doing years ago, when you were first born. In fact, I have written you a few little letters, ones that I've tucked away inside your baby book for you to find someday. But I haven't done anything consistent, nothing that let's me see how much you've grown and changed over the last three years. Of course, there is my memory and photographs, stories that your daddy and I share with each other and our friends and family, but I want there to be something for just you, too.

So, here is your first real letter. Yes, it's on my blog, so others will see it, but know this is just for you, no one else, and, at the moment, this is probably the safest place to keep anything I write you, because goodness knows how much longer this laptop will last and any of the files on it!

Right now, you are the biggest star in my life. You rule the house with a benevolent and fanciful fist. It's not difficult to let you have your way, because you so eager and happy about everything. Just this morning, as we were getting ready for the day, you stood stark naked in our big bathroom mirror and put on the most impressive show. You were an exercise guru of some sort, telling "everyone" (not sure who that was) to do jumping jacks. And you were explaining so percisely just how to do a jumping jack. Put your legs out. Now in. Now JUMP! It was so funny and you were so earnest and sweet about it. It made my morning.

That's a perfect example of how you lead your life right now. You have fun, and you do it like it's your job. Having fun and being three are very important things for you. I love that.

You are also very dramatic. Very recently you told me, "All my life you have been so mean, Mama!" You upset, you see, because I had taken away a Barbie you had used to bludgeon me on the head (for fun, you said, as if that made it all better). I had to keep so hard from laughing hysterically at your over-the-top pouty lips and cry as you told me how mean I had always been to you with such feeling. Your grandma (my mom) told me that I'd better watch out, because if you have that flair for the dramatic now, what can I expect when you're a teenager. I'm thinking you'll have gotten all of that out by then and you'll be a perfect angel by the time you hit twelve (yeah...right).

We are having a really wonderful summer so far, with lots of trips to the lake, rides on your grandpa's boat (my dad), and visits from Grammy and Mike (daddy's grandparents). You even spent a night over at your Aunt Shelly's house (daddy's aunt) and went swimming in her pool AND learned to use the big girl potty. You've been wearing undies ever since and we are so proud of you (and thankful for you aunt!). And while we still have quite a bit of summer left (thank goodness), I'm already a little sad about the Fall, when I'll have to go back to work and you (and I'm more excited about this than sad) will go off to preschool. I've really loved our extra time together and I'm going to soak up ever last moment we have together.

You are my sunshine, little girl.
Love,
Mama

Toilet Triumph!

As of today, we've gone a full week of Lizzie in underwear only (except at bedtime). This. Is. Awesome! She's using the "big" potty (which I find extremely impressive) and is so proud of herself (and I'm really proud, too!). But the best part of being diaper free? The adorable little girl undies. I know no one is going to see them except for us, but they're just so dang cute! We've stocked up on Tinker Bell and Princess Tiana undies and it's been fun for Lizzie to pick out which pair she wants to wear each morning (it's just about the only thing I'll let her pick at the moment, otherwise she'd perpetually be dressed in a ballet tutu and a sweater).

So, how did this all happen? I have to say, we weren't exactly trying very hard to potty train. Why? Well, honestly, because we're lazy. We knew we'd have to start soon, because Lizzie is heading off to preschool in the Fall (!!!), but we just hadn't gathered up the gumption. We had a small training potty in our bathroom and Lizzie had used it off and on, but wasn't showing any real interest. I was also really worried about what I'd do with her out in public, because I didn't think she'd be able to hold herself up on her own.

Well, last week, she spent the night at DOH's aunt's house and they ran out of diapers. DOH's aunt has deftly raised two children with a no nonsense, but pleasant attitude, and it's a style that worked well in the potty training of Lizzie. She gave her a pair of her daughter's underwear and said, "You need to use the big girl potty so you don't get your cousin's underwear wet. Gotta keep them dry!" And that was it. Lizzie used the big potty and kept the undies dry. And she's been keeping all her underwear dry (for the most part) ever since. I guess it was like a bandaid--we just had to go and do it. She was ready and I guess I wasn't, but now that it's happened, I'm totally on board.
It's all very exciting, but at the same time, it's a definite reminder that Lizzie is fast becoming a kid, and isn't an little baby or even toddler any more. The change is hard, but I think it will be good.

What To Do?

Well, it's just past 10 o'clock at night and Lizzie has finally, maybe, relaxed enough to fall asleep. We put her to bed around 9 (which is late for her, but considering she slept to nearly 8 this morning, unusual, and she took a late nap, it made sense). For an hour she fought sleep. And I mean really fought it. Full out temper tantrum screaming.

Unable to stand it and knowing that she was "okay" (not in any danger, just overtired and refusing to go to sleep), I went out to my car to sit (don't worry, DOH was in the apartment and knew, obviously, because he could hear, what was going on). In my car, with the door closed, the radio going, I could still hear her screaming. I went back inside after a couple of minutes.

After going back into her room and comforting her for the millionth time, explaining that for both of our sanities she needed to go to sleep, she was at least quiet. And she's been quiet. Thank God.

The unfortunate thing, however, is that this has been happeneing every night for the last week.

Shoot me in the freaking face.

I value my post-Lizzie bedtime, because it's pretty much the only time I get during the day to just sit without any time limit. Or, if I'm exhausted, it's prime sleeping time. And if I'm pooped at 8 and Lizzie isn't ready to get to bed, it's miserable. Like, ready to ram your head against a wall in frustration miserable.

I don't know why there is this sudden change. Sometimes she goes through phases where bedtime isn't easy, but for the most part she goes down like a peach, and this feels different. I don't know, maybe she's feeling the upheaval of the move more than I realized and it's throwing her for a loop? Perhaps there is some anxiety surfacing that I wasn't aware of? Her big hang up as I try to put her to bed is that she doesn't want to be left alone (a big thing lately--she's always worried about being left alone or others being left alone). She knows that she is coming with us to the new house...but maybe that hasn't completely registered yet? Hopefully once we're in bedtime will go back to being easy again. Until then...I'm dreading it.