Waterway Fountains and a Little Bit of Sleep Deprivation.

I'm tired down to my bones today*, in part because I spent the better portion of 4-6:30am lying on the floor next to Quinn's crib, holding his hand while he halfway slept. How can you turn down a toddler with a raspy-almost-totally-gone voice, asking you to hold hands? As much as I wanted to crawl back into my own bed for a few more hours, I couldn't leave him. So, I held his hand through the slats of his crib, and he wouldn't stop squeezing mine even after he was snoring through the boogies that were clogging up his head. Poor, sweet Quinn. He's not so sick, but his voice was shot all day (which I somewhat appreciated, since his decibel level is often quite high), and his cough isn't sounding so great. It's deep down deep in his lungs, sort of like it has camped out and isn't planning on leaving for a while. His mood has seriously been one for the record books the past few days, and I've tried to be patient, knowing that he isn't feeling well. But still - a spirited toddler in a terrible mood is a test of patience for even the most calm of mothers. I give myself a B- at best for my mothering the past few days.

(*And then! Before I could hit publish - the day got away form me, and then Quinn was up at 11pm last night - crying, coughing and just wanting his mama. I saw the writing on the wall - that story being one of multiple trips up and down the stairs all night long. So, I did what I haven't done since we were in Europe almost two years ago, and had him sleep in my bed. Mike is traveling, and I just really needed to close my eyes. I woke up once to Quinn climbing over me around 3:30am - to play phone! as he said, trying to grab it from my nightstand. Several other times I awoke to him coughing or kicking in my face. The last time I woke up, I was squeezing Donkey. I'm not quite sure how that happened, but let's just say that I'm tired today, just as I was yesterday - and this post has taken a solid 24 hours.)

There are plenty of times in this phase of life where I say I can't believe I'm doing this right now (insert tantrums in public / multiple situations with bodily fluids / sleep deprivation / singing the same song approximately 3,547 times, etc), but the simple fact is that I'd really do anything for my boys. And really, being tired for a few years days is so minor in the grand scheme of things. What's important is that they know that I love them and that I'll be there for them, even if it means getting medicine and singing songs in the middle of the night. Being tired isn't going to kill me, just as I knew a not-on-purpose natural delivery wouldn't kill me. I think the only way I got through that experience - without so much as crying, I'd like to point out! - is that I was pragmatic about it. I knew I couldn't change my circumstances, that I likely wouldn't die, and that it would be over soon (I feel like I lacked some of this foresight when I had Quinn, and remember a few sleepless nights thinking that I definitely wouldn't make it). 

So, even though West threw up all of his breakfast all over me this morning (cinnamon roll + avocado + cantaloupe + cheerios! I blame myself and squeezing his tummy too hard while carrying him shortly after he ate), even though I've changed a half-dozen dirty diapers today, even though I'm still exhausted 98% of the time despite having a baby who is (mostly) a professional sleeper, I will survive. And be happy - and fulfilled. I will love my boys, and we will have some really, really lovely little moments each day. 

(We met Danielle and Wells at The Waterway fountains the other week. West sat there happily and Quinn loved the fountains. I love watching him in his element. We finished up by including ourselves in Danielle's birthday lunch with TJ and Wells, where Quinn was mostly well-behaved but got a little sad when I wouldn't let him make snowmen with the salt shaker, and I certainly looked like a total trainwreck trying to manage two kids in a restaurant.)