Oh what a night

This week has been a killer. It’s been tough getting back into a routine. Even though Liam had us all up bright and early while we were camping, it’s different – and harder – waking up to an alarm clock each day. I’ve had a busy week at work and am also trying to hunker down as far as school goes – I had an assignment due today that took me forever to finish, another one next Friday and my exam the week after that. So now all I have to do is learn 24 chapters’ worth of polynomial distributions and ADELP charts in less than two weeks (what the hell IS this stuff I’m supposed to be learning???) I haven’t had the time or energy to make it to the gym or finish running all the errands that need to be run or tidy up the house all week. In short, I feel lousy, behind and exhausted.

Last night I finished my assignment at a decent hour, and was going to try to get to bed (relatively) early. I wanted to get up and go running for the first time in ages this morning; and I have a presentation to one of our VPs today that I wanted to be in top condition for. Liam had other ideas. As I was brushing my teeth, he woke up crying in a way he hasn’t cried in a good long time; and so began the process of trying to get him back to sleep. I sat with him. I rocked him. I put him down. He cried, not just a cry of protest but a screaming, howling cry. I picked him up. On and on it went. This was no ten-minute soothing back to sleep; this was the remainder of my night, and then some.

At one point I put him back in his crib and left him to tough it out. I was more concerned about being tired myself and not wanting to be a walking zombie while trying to explain to Mr. VP what I have spent the past six months doing and why he should be grateful for it. He cried and cried and cried… and a long time later, I caved and went back in to get him again. I felt so bad. I picked him up and he was a river of snot and tears. And then I started to cry, because I felt so bad for caring about myself more than him; clearly he was upset. I sat down with him in the rocking chair and mopped up all the fluids from his face, and he looked up at me in the dark and smiled and pointed at the light fixture on the ceiling and whispered, “Ball.” What a little stinker.

I’d like to say that that was that and that he went back to bed without a peep, but really it was midnight before he settled down, and it didn’t happen without more tears. I don’t know what was up with him last night, but I am mighty thankful that I don’t have to get up early again tomorrow. Thank God it’s Friday.

(Cindy gave me an envelope full of photos she’s taken of Liam at daycare for the past several months. He’s a recent one of Liam and some of his buddies at the park. Cindy’s kids (11 and 13) and a couple of her friend’s kids she also watched for a week turn it into a pretty big group. Poor little L-man, too small to sit at the picnic table!...)