I hereby nominate my mother for sainthood. I know we're not Catholic, and she's not dead, but the scope of her kindness should override those pesky issues.
After a late afternoon call to playfully ask if she was coming down here last night instead of this morning, she pulled in at 7 pm, rescuing me from a very tiring, upsetting day with the children. We went shopping for bedsheets (400 threadcount queen set for 30 bucks), and we were home by 8:15. Put Ben in bed, fed Anna. At 9, I handed Anna to my mother and went to bed.
Bleary eyed and half asleep, I stumbled to the bathroom at 10:30. I angrily asked Chris why Nana was sleeping with Anna on the couch. He should be the one tending her. Let Nana sleep! He calmly told me to go back to bed, that Nana was going to take Anna for the night.
I forgave him around 1 am. By 2 am, when Nana carried Anna in for her *only* night feeding, I was humbled with gratitude and relief. By 5:30 when the alarm went off? I was jubilant.
The past couple months have been so difficult. Since Anna started getting ear infections in April, she's been less willing to sleep on her own in the crib. Trying to claim any sleep I can, I just pulled her into bed with us. Instead of sleeping soundly nestled against mommy, she wanted to nurse all night long. I'd doze on and off throughout the night and wake up exhausted, counting the hours until I could nap with the kids.
Yesterday morning, I woke up so tired, I felt like vomiting. So to sleep in my own bed without having to accommodate a sprawled baby? HAPPINESS. JOY. BLISS.
Seriously. Give the woman a prize, something other than my undying love and affection. She should get a trophy.
