Mercy Me!

If you saw me today and thought that I looked tired, allow me to offer an explanation for why that is.

I'm tired.

We all are actually.  All of us in the Young household.  We were doing great with the whole sleep thing.  We had a system going that was working.  Everyone was getting the sleep they needed.  Every night.

And then it all EXPLODED.

Because Jack - dear, dear Jack - decided that pulling himself to his feet and screaming is a much more better thing to do than sleep.

This is how it has gone over the past week, at every nap and bedtime (and a couple of times in the middle of each night, for that matter):

-We go through our nap/bedtime routine, same as it has been for all of the year two-thousand and twelve.

-Jack starts to nod off in my arms, so I start to put him down in his crib (I usually put him in bed before he is asleep so he can get there by himself, but not lately because of...well, this).

-Jack touches down in his crib, his eyes fly open, he looks around wildly, sees he is in his crib, and starts to sob as he flips over and crawls in the most pathetic manner possible to the edge of the crib where he pulls himself up and wails towards the door that I have just exited.

-I hug myself in the fetal position and rock back and forth in my own bed hoping and praying that maybe this time he will remember how to self-soothe and will go to sleep all on his own.

Now I come to a request for you, dear blog readers.  If I, in the four years of my blog's existence, have ever amused you or tickled your fancy or made you nod your head in passionate agreement or even made you gasp in offense, I ask you this: commiserate with me.  Offer a kind word, a "This too shall pass."  I don't need advice.  I've heard it all.  I've tried it all.  I just need an "I've been there.  Sucks." or a "Keep your chin up, Champ."

Kthnxbye.

Jack, plotting my doom.