Lost All Hope

That's it. I would break down into a mass of quivering jelly, but I'm too frustrated to.

(Steve is home! Joy. Seriously. What a relief to have him here.)

But that doesn't change that in his absence sleep has totally and completely fallen apart. Jack was up until 10:45pm tonight. Abby, with her weird congestion/cough slept like a log from 8pm til, you guessed it, 11pm. She then woke up every ten minutes crying, coughing, screaming, trying to get under our covers.

It doesn't matter how much I understand that I need to stay firm, this sort of torture is not something I can handle the sixth time. You have to understand that each time it's at the exact moment that I drift into that in between land - almost asleep.

Especially since I am fully aware Jack is not going to settle into his crib for too long. Abby, panicked and distraught was finally granted access to the foot of my bed, not horribly comfortable for me, but she's staying asleep for fifteen minutes...

Which is the time mark at which point Jack woke up.

Look, I have done this before. I know what works. Persistence and Insistence works. If there is no option that he get carried into bed with us, then he WILL sleep in his crib. If there is no option that she can get into bed with us, then she will be FINE staying in her own.

It's not about left brain.

It's about dripping water torture. It's about the idea that when Jack woke up and interrupted my seventh near sleep experience, I was so mad at the world that I brought him into the bed almost to spite myself - but not that clear cut - also with the sincere, bleeding hope that I could just get to sleep for a minute.

Of course not two minutes from when I have him asleep in my bed Abby starts coughing and crying. Jack sits up, trying to get to her, Steve stands, trying to help - which Jack thinks is the best thing since sliced bread because DADDY'S HOME!!!

I stayed calm though. I was losing it, but I stayed calm.

Until finally everyone is back asleep, and I'm no longer able to calmly lie back down and go to sleep.

This simply isn't okay. I'm furious.

It's one a.m. and I've already been through nine interruptions. That didn't happen on Abby's worst night before Jack came around. The worst case scenario in the old days of convincing Abby to stay in her room was a 45 minute cycle. That sucked. But right about now it's looking like bliss.

I know this sounds melodramatic. I know I am my own worst enemy and saboteur in this. It doesn't even matter (much) that I'm so lucky as to have my mom taking Abby off my hands twice this week (she sleeps soundly at Gramma's) or even that one night while Steve was gone, she had BOTH my kids for a night of uninterrupted sleep. It's appreciated, believe me. But it's like - needed relief from the situation doesn't change the echoing and massive hopelessness I have about it.

And yes, I'm fully aware that sleep itself would give me renewed strength, hope, and fervor. I just don't happen to be able to get out of this incredibly rotten mood I'm in.

Finally, the last part of my suffering is that I cannot for the life of me get my brain to focus on what movie I'm thinking of where the character says, "We've lost all hope." Is it Leah in Star Wars? Is it Queen A in Episode One? Is it Yoda? Luke? Obi Wan? Cate Blanchett's character in Lord of the Rings? Arwen's father?

p.s. my old reefs are literally shredding the skin on my toe, that's weird, right?

AND now, an exercise in thankfulness:
Thank you God for:
Abby.
Jack.
Steve.
Steve's success on his trip.
Steve's return from his trip.
Our family.
My mom's willingness to save me from the big and the small frustrations in life
How we've all been laughing.
El Torito salsa.
My laptop being fixed.
Lunch Bunch is Back!!!!