Sometimes Relief Comes In The Oddest Ways

This little blog and I are back on track.  I've made some changes, I'm updating some pages (you'll soon find many new blogs on my blog list and under 'more bloggage').  I've got some exciting things in the works as far as guest posts go -- with some women who blow my mind.  And will blow yours as well. One I've guest posted with before, the other I haven't. Both are amaze-balls. I can't wait to see what we do.

In other news . . . Sarah's sleeping issues have not resolved themselves. She is sleeping through the night -- not because of a savvy book or some intelligent parenting gem on my part. But because I lost it one night. She'd been up, screaming, about 6 times, the night before, and was starting  in again. I was exhausted. The windows were open and that was a trigger for me to coddle her because holy crap, what would the neighbors think if  they heard me yell at her? But I'd had enough. So I yelled. And told her that she wasn't in control, I was. That she was not going to disrupt the entire family any more, it wasn't fair, etc. That I didn't care if the neighbors heard. I may have yelled some neighbors names, as in, "Michelle? Do you hear me? Sarah cannot keep waking us all up at night!" And told Sarah that if Michelle heard me she'd agree with me. Sarah was very, very not happy with me. I was very, very not happy with her. And loud. But she slept all night, and has since then.

Going to bed? Hell. I'm not going to get into the cycle we've gotten into. It's horrible. I've called the pediatrician three times. I've taken her to see the pediatrician. Talked to and listened to every.single.mom I know. Hid my head as she screams. Cried. Yelled. Ignored. Tuesday night she screamed for three hours. Three solid hours. No breaks. No lulls. And? No tears. She's not actually crying. Just screaming. Screaming things like, "You will come up here right this minute!"  (Uhmmm, have you met me?? Do you really think that is going to work?) Wednesday morning she very sweetly informed me, "My panties and bed are wet. Because I peed them. Because I was mad at you."

Special words were used. Yes. Very many. Said at my child. Yes. I swore at her. Then I put her in the van, drove to swim practice and cried.

I called the pediatrician and cried some more.  He told me to give her melatonin at bedtime and to get some books on, and I quote, "the defiant child."

Then I had to tell my husband, at eight o'clock that evening, why Sarah was sleeping so soundly, and that I'd sworn at her. Good times, people, good times.

Today I talked to my sister in law, Kerry (who is so smart about these things) about getting some therapy for Sarah. Again, good times.

Then I had a discussion with a friend about her daughter and a possible speech delay. I was able to offer some help, possibly, given my background. But honestly, given the massive failures I've been exhibiting lately I didn't think I'd hear a whole lot back. Instead I just recieved the most uplifting text: And just like that she signs and says more. You rock.

And just like that I felt a huge sigh of relief.  Maybe, just maybe we're OK. We'll give Sarah the melatonin for a week or so. My therapist is also an amazing child/play therapist. So I don't have to search and worry. And my picky, picky Sarah is taking the melatonin crushed up in grape jelly like a champ.

So.

Deep yoga breaths.

Also? Diana? You rock. And I expect a full wing in El Paso. Corrugated, high end, got it?