Here's the funny thing about sleep regressions. You forget about the little ones. Everyone talks about the 4 month sleep regression, but there are small ones that happen all the time. You forget about that panic that you have, the thoughts that this will never end or get better. It feels like no one will ever sleep again, and you will die from exhaustion.
And then it magically goes back to normal, and you forget about those days.
I was feeling that panic in the days leading up to Christmas. G had stopped napping completely, and instead had taken to screaming from his crib. I was terrified to have the kids alone the Thursday and Friday after Christmas. My kids. I was afraid I couldn't do it. It would be too hard.
And it was hard. Exhausting. But the regression ended and they were both back on schedule which made things more manageable. I picked up toys as we went, I did laundry, and I baked with E. And it was tough, but it was fun and it was just life. Good and bad, changing by the minute.
Speaking of cooking...
E wanted to bake something. It had been a while since we'd gone shopping and we’d been baking non stop, so there weren't a lot of options. I decided we’d make mini pancake poppers, since we had just enough left to make one batch. While I was grabbing stuff from the fridge, I had my back turned to E, and he picked up and handful of the flour/baking soda mixture and threw it on the ground.
I'd told him to keep his hands out. I'd told him to keep the mixture in the bowl. I was frustrated because I knew it would mess up the ratios, and I didn’t feel like cleaning it up when it seemed like all I’d been doing all day was cleaning. So I told him we were done cooking, and put everything away. I never yelled or raised my voice because I don't believe in that, but I think he could tell I was upset. Instead of crying or throwing a tantrum, he was sad and quiet and remorseful, and it made me feel horrible.
I didn't want to take back my word, though, so I shut off the oven, and we cleaned up the mess. We went to play, and he seemed fine, but of course I was second guessing myself. He's only 2. He's doing exactly what 2 year olds do. Testing boundaries and seeing what reactions come from actions.
So after about 30 minutes I asked him if he wanted to finish baking. He said yes and told me "Mama, my no throw on floor," and he didn't. They came out horrible, but he didn't care. I let him put a mini chocolate chip in each one, and he was super excited. He loved breaking the poppers open to try and find them, and then he'd eat it and say "My eating it! It in my belly!"
This post-Christmas time is weird. There’s no schedule, and there’s so much time with no plans. We’ve been playing with new toys and hanging out together and doing everything that we’re supposed to be right now, I guess. I’ll just say we were all happy when Tom was home Saturday.
