The Guilt

Oh man. Guilt. It's every mother's double edged sword. The favorite tool of getting your children to behave, yet the very kryptonite that leaves us incapacitated.

Let me explain.

Drake gets tired, and hates every thing in his tiny little life. This is how I know it is nap time, when he is crawling along the floor, sobbing in tears. It comes out of nowhere, no signals, no warning signs. BAM. He needs a nap NOW. He's a lot like Brian in this regard.

So in his crib he goes, with "aww are you sleepy? do you need a nappy poo?" and laid down with a bottle and his favorite Pooh rattle. If he is in the right zone, he takes his bottle and falls asleep before the nipple hits his lips. More often than not, he is FURIOUS at the prospect of a nap, and just screams his fool head off.

I kiss him on the head and tell him to take a nap anyway, and I leave.

This is where the guilt comes in. He cries. And cries. And cries. I go in there every few minutes to kiss him, lay him down, tell him blah blah blah you know that everything is okay, and I swear to God it's not really torture, just take a nap, you will feel better blah blah. He throws his bottle. He grabs my shirt, trying to climb out, and his little face is wrinkled up and drenched with snot and tears and drool. It breaks my heart. Because he doesn't have a "WWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH" cry. No, he has that heart breaking sob. That "booo hooo hoooo nobody loves me they make me eat worms and my life is like a fart" cry that makes you feel like you have truly severed his trust in you. Although he has always cried like that, even for diaper changes, it is still gut wrenching.

If I cave in, and bring him out, hold him, kiss him, tell him it's okay and we can just play some more, he still cries anyway. Because he is tired, and he hates his tiny little life at this point. Nothing makes him happy. He just cries. So back to bed he goes, and the whole cycle repeats.

And I am torn with guilt. I know that what I am doing is what works for us. He sits there and cries his tantrum out, with me peeking in every few minutes to tell him the world has not ended, and eventually, he realizes he needs sleep. But it kills me he cries. I have no idea what to do.

So I blog about it, hoping that other moms will send me a drink (vodka or Bailey's, please!) and tell me it's okay to go cry in a corner. Or at least, give me some advice. If you have any. If not, that's cool. I'm going to go sob now.

I promise, I will never cry

Went to the chiro today and I found out my orthotic insoles will only run me about $200 and our health savings account will cover that. So yay!! Free insoles!! And apparently my insurance is covering my visits too, double yay!!

It really hurts when he massages my leg muscles. He said he knows from experience how much it hurts and I do my best not to even say "ow" even though all I want to do is cry. He gets in there and digs his knuckles into these muscles and stimulates them. These muscles have all but atrophied in the years of disuse and of course it is going to hurt. He said that he bruised them the other day when I told him how much pain I was in over the weekend but thought I was very brave for coming back. Not only did I go back, but Brian also rubbed them for me and helped me with my exercises.

The chiro said that he has had people cry in his office before at the muscle treatment so I know that it wouldn't be anything new. And even though I want to sob like a little girl, I also have to wear my big girl shoes and grit my teeth. I didn't bring a stick today. Maybe Wednesday.

I plan to keep doing them at home, even if it hurts. The more I do it, the stronger they will get, and the less I will have to go. Which is always a bonus. 

I am super stressed out today. A test + lady time = on the verge of tears. I actually got rather upset at one point when I got home and started crying. What did I cry about? Well, Brian said something sweet. A xanax, some coffee, and a cookie helped immensely. 

Brian has a short week at work this week! His last day is Wednesday, he has Thursday through Sunday off. I work on Thursday as my first day of on the job nesting, and have Friday off, and work Saturday. I get paid time and a half for Saturday. 

I was telling all of my friends and family that I was happy I was working Christmas and would have been upset had they not scheduled me. I was promised I could work holidays when I signed up! This may seem strange to some people, but I have a lot of my mom in me. I am a workaholic only because I am greedy and I need the money to keep afloat lol :) I have Sunday and Monday off, and then my regular schedule begins Tuesdays through Saturdays, 1:00-9:30 pm. 

I'm starting to feel tired. This week I am focusing on going to bed "early" (meaning before 6am) and trying to get some quality sleep but it hasn't been easy. 

There were 8 cookies left this morning (out of 36!!) and I had two. I sent 4 to work with Brian today. The other two are in the fridge. For some reason, if I put it on the bottom shelf in the fridge, I am less likely to eat them. Not because I don't like cold cookies, but because I would have to bend over. Laziness can be rewarding, sometimes.