Insomnia

Someone at my house has insomnia.

And it's not me.

And it's not Alex.

But someone's insomnia means we're both awake too!

Our delightful toddler was awake from just after 11 until about 5 this morning.

She wanted to eat breakfast and go to daycare.

She had a sore finger, thumb, tongue, ear, elbow, nose, eyelash, baby toe, belly button, you name it. The sore spot changed every three minutes too.

We rubbed her back and gave her a quick cuddle and left.

We ignored her.

We rocked her.

We sang to her.

We moved her to our bed.

We moved her to a makeshift bed on our floor.

We closed her door and let her scream.

We closed her door and let her play.

We closed her door and let her read.

We gave her water to drink.

We gave her a snack to eat.

We tried to get her to put her jammies on.

We spoke quietly.

We whispered.

We didn't speak at all.

We shouted.

We pulled our hair out.

There were tears.

She lay on a makeshift bed on her floor.

She went potty eight-seven million times and after the third time exclaimed with surprise "Nothing came out" every time she went.

She figured out how to get out of her crib.

Then she demanded that we go RIGHT NOW and get her a big girl bed that she could climb out of that wasn't "dang-ger-us"

(not necessarily in the order above and we tried some things MORE THAN ONCE)

And then, then she passed out. I woke up at 8:30, 2 1/2 hours later than normal, to find a toddler was taking up 5/6 of the bed. Which left Alex and I with 1/12 of the bed...each. We were both hanging on to the edge of the bed for dear life.

I am a mean mom. I made her get up and have breakfast and go to daycare.

You know what I found out? She's not the only one at daycare to have given her parents massive grief last night.

I hate you, time change.