To the victor go the spoils

This past week I have engaged in a full out war to get my sweet darling little girl to sleep by herself. I have cajoled, begged, bribed, threatened, ignored, and given serious thought to drugging her. I have purchased the inflatable sleeping bag bed because I felt like a horrible mother letting her sleep on the floor where she passed out. But the truth is, I concede victory to a 40 pound terrorist who just happens to live across the hall.

I will lie down with her. I will sleep in her bed. She can smell my hair. I will hang off the edge of a dangerously short twin bed (for a six foot plus mommy). If doing all of this means that I will in exchange be able to close my eyes, not hear her screaming, and even (dare I say it?) sleep for a precious few hours, then consider it done.

I am hoping that in the days, months, years to come her speech will develop and I will be more able to reason with her. Logic will become my friend. I will even welcome the day when I fall out of her favor for a friend or beloved toy. But I say that now, when I am sleep deprived and cranky.

Years from now, in the retirement home, I will reminisce about the sweet smell of her baby breath, her need to be close to her mommy, and how pretty they were when they were unconscious. All I can hope for is that I will get regular calls from the children I have given up my sanity for. That's all I'm askin kids, just call your mama.
Just don't call me when I am snoozin! :o)

Night all
Heather P.