When we moved, Annie’s sleeping went kablooey. She didn’t want to nap, she didn’t want to sleep. When we WOULD finally get her to sleep, she would wake up screaming like she’d just been visited by Freddy Krueger. Mike and I were desperate and exhausted, and we had her sleep in our room. In our bed.
See, this isn’t a mistake for a lot of people. But with a kid like Annabel, we can’t get away with a one-off thing. Even though she can’t verbalize it, she will not forget that yesterday she slept in our room, so why the heck should she sleep in this crib tonight? You can’t put anything past her.
So, here I sit in the green arm-chair while Mike lies on the floor, and there is Annie – screaming. SCREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAMING. You see, right now, I am writing this while we are letting her cry it out. We are currently twenty minutes in and I am afraid Mike might crack. That’s why I moved from my desk to the chair in Annie’s room – to make sure Mike doesn’t give in. I’m sure he’d say that he’s afraid *I* will crack, but no. I am a warrior.
Thirty eight minutes in and I just realized the night-light wasn’t on. Parent fail!
Thirty nine minutes in, turned on this cool projector thing my Aunt Kathy gave Maddie. Annie looks up at the ceiling and, between sobs, says, “coooooow, moo.”
OK 45 minutes in. I don’t know if I should be impressed by her resolve or annoyed that she is still crying about going to bed.
Fifty three minutes in. She has the cry hiccups. It’s adorable and sad and OMG I JUST WANT TO PICK HER UP AND HUG HER! Especially when she starts saying, “maaaaamaaaaaaaaa.”
An hour. AN HOUR. Annie is still hiccuping and whimpering, but MIKE has fallen asleep on the floor. Even the dog is still awake.
She looks adorable and sad and tear-stained. I just want to pick her up and cuddle her all night.
But I won’t….because then she might wake up.