Fast forward a few years and, unfortunately, I think the same thing some days. When will this season of life end? I HATE thinking that way because I'm trying so hard to absorb every single second of the boys' lives. It's hard to do some times.
I try to go to bed by 10 pm because I have no idea when the baby will wake up. He could be up once, or he could be up every 40 minutes -all night long.
For the last four days I've tried SO hard to be up before the kids. I started by getting up at 6am, but Turner was coming in at 5:58, telling me he needed to potty.
Reluctantly, I set my alarm for 5:15 so I can get some "me" time and maybe get a handle on the day. (If Eli is in the school room with nothing to do (even coloring), Turner and I can't get any work done.) Well, the baby was up at 5:22.
Last night, I slept so hard I didn't hear Deacon and finally snapped to at 3 something in the morning. He was inconsolable because I didn't pick him up quick enough and stayed up for over 3 hours. He just tossed and cried and nursed. I tried to get him to sleep by letting him sleep on me, rocking him and putting him in his bed. He finally fell asleep on me at some point, around 6am.
Eli came in at 6:15.
I can't catch a break here.
I can't nap because I'm trying to keep up with the day to day house work. Nothing special, just trying to stay sanitary here. Deacon eats anything in sight and the kids drop everything they touch so vacuuming daily is a must. I'm now organizing and packing for the solo journey to New Jersey all the while entertaining the kids.
I never want to wish time away, but I just want to see the day where I might sleep for just 6 hours a night. Just SIX.
I'm off to suck down coffee like it's water and wash this sour attitude off. Oh, and unload the dishwasher, sweep up lunch, finish up some stuff for school, retrieve a smelly diaper from somewhere in the house, and think of something to feed the kids for dinner.
Joy. I hear someone up early from a nap.