One of Those Days.

So today was one of THOSE days.  Oh my!  


Tate woke up at 430am and would not go back to sleep.  But, this all started with his 1 hour and 20 minute nap yesterday of which the last 20 minutes were mere dozings.  So, by last night at 640p I had a very overtired young man.  Into the crib he went at 640p, and he tossed and turned and tossed and turned.  At 704p he started screaming.  I knew that meant he had 'lost' his lovey.  I went upstairs and picked up his hippo off the floor and gave it to him.  Those sweet little arms came up and around my neck, so I picked him up and rocked him to sleep like I used to. I miss that sweet warm body falling completely asleep in my arms.  Into the crib he went at 717p...I knew immediately this did not bode well for a good night's sleep.  I crawled into bed at 1034p.  At 1107p Tate was up crying.  I replaced his pacifier because I wanted to be asleep!!!!  (I usually have him find the pacifier himself).  He was then up at 231a, sitting up, looking lost trying to find his lovey and pacifier.  I gave them to him and laid him back down.  Then 434a he was up and crying yet again.  I put him in bed with me, and he was all smiles and happiness.  He dozed about 40 minutes then started climbing over my head, kicking me, tickling me ... the mommy jungle gym.  I gave in at 604am.  


We read books and played, then came downstairs for breakfast around 645.  He happily played in the living room while I got his cheerios, banana, yogurt and milk organized.  I came to get him to get in his high chair and all hell broke loose.  He came readily enough to the highchair and climbed in.  I turned around to get his plate and he started screaming.  Hurriedly, I placed the plate of cheerios and banana on the tray.  Nope.  More screaming.  I gave him his milk...he pushed it away.  I put the yogurt on the tray...even more screaming.  Kicking.  Furious, and I have not a clue why.  This went on for 10 minutes.  I tried walking away; I tried sitting by him to encourage him.  Finally took off the tray and got him down in my arms while he squirmed.  I broke my own rule and gave him a pacifier and tried to hold him and sing to him.  No dice for 10 more minutes.  He finally calmed down.  We read a couple of books, and I decided to try breakfast again.  Into the highchair he went and he ate some yogurt, but again with the screaming and kicking.  I offered puffs and yogurt melts.  Well that was enough to start WW3 since I wouldn't let him have the containers.  I was about to lose my mind.  I must admit these were not my finest moments as I was just as frustrated because he cannot communicate with me.  He will not use his signs at all though he knows them!!  It's like he doesn't understand how.  I swooped him up and stormed upstairs deciding he was going back to sleep.  Popped in another pacifier and gave him his lovey.  Sat down in the rocker with him and he was out in minutes at 8am.  I held him as he slept for an hour.  Breakfast followed and he was in a better mood.


The next 2 hours were better.  He was testy and moody, and I was on pins and needles.  Lunch was a disaster, so I put him down for a nap at noon.  He only slept 45 minutes.  When he woke up I tried to pat him down, hold him in the crib to no avail.  I laid down with him...nothing.  I was about to lose my mind because I knew he was going to be beside himself at our 3pm appointment with the ENT.


He was starving of course, so I shoveled some puffs and strawberries in him.  Of course he was furious that I wouldn't let him have the container, so there were plenty of strawberries on the floor.  We got out the door only 10 minutes behind schedule.


The appointment went well; we were also sent for a couple of x-rays where he also did well.  The ride home was most unpleasant at 440p in Houston traffic.   He cried every 10 minutes...nothing made him happy, not his music, not his lovey...nothing


Dinner went ok, though yet again he shoved his food off his tray when he was done.  (sweet potatoes and quinoa all over my floor)  However, dinner was prefaced with screaming for reasons unbeknownst to me.  I looked at him and set his milk down with quite a bit of force on the counter asking 'what is it now' quite unpleasantly...more tears.  Ugh.


He was in bed at 633p.  I pray he can catch up on his sleep tonight.  It's a vicious cycle, overtiredness.  One of the many many things I try to protect him from.


These days make me wonder what the hell was I thinking doing this on my own, and thank goodness I'm too old to have another one though I am desperate for a sibling for him.  My guilt over my frustration and anger with him knows no bounds.  I always said I would not be a yeller, yet I have raised my voice or been more firm than I intended.    He can see in my eyes when I'm angry;  I can tell. I try to walk away and give myself a time out.  These are the times I need to 'tag out' with someone.  Someone to just give me a break...a real break.  I cannot be all things at all times for this little guy and on days like this when we are alone together all day I have to be.  And I love him so very much.  And he gives the most amazing hugs and kisses these days!!  And he did tonight, and I feel like such a failure and I promise to be more patient and I promise to not get frustrated.  Until the next time.  But writing it down and admitting is freeing.  And I know I'm not the only parent, single or coupled, who gets to this point.  Actually I don't know any parent who doesn't get to this point.  But these points are just blips in the life of a child and a parent.  Mere hiccups.  Because as I look at him tonight I realize my frustration and anger come from wanting the best for him.  And I know not sleeping will cause him pain, yet I can't convey that to him, so he's hurting.  And I can't make the hurt stop if he won't sleep.  Love.  In its many forms.