Shifting.

Last week, things were good. Malone slept through the night several nights in a row. My morning hour was fruitful. Even though I was getting less sleep, I felt energized from having an hour in the morning to myself. I spent it working on this blog- writing, reading your blogs, commenting, and returning comments. Mike and I squeezed in a couch date during the weekend.

This week, things are different. Not bad, just different. Malone's sleep all over the place again. He is no longer reliably sleeping through the nights and he is waking early. Today's power hour lasted 15 minutes before I was interrupted by him.

Malone is shifting again and needing more from both of us. He is begging for more connection and yearns for more time at home. I want to give it to him. As a nurturer style parent, I will give it to him. But, in order to do that, I have to shift again too. It will mean moving from where I am most comfortable- out and about with him experiencing the world one toddler step at a time. It will mean mustering the energy for a power hour post bed time and knowing that it is likely the precious time in the morning will be uninterrupted just long enough to get my basis morning needs met.

Bathroom.

Teeth Brushed.

Coffee.

My husband pointed out to me that I never like these shifts. He is right. Just when something seems to fall into place, everything changes again leaving me feeling anxious and unsettled.

I am letting these feelings marinate. I know their roots.

The thing is, that big beautiful things come from shifts like this. And looking back on life things always fall into perfect place

We cannot stay the same and grow at the same time.

Thanks Shell, for giving me space to pour my heart out.

Misadventures in the darkest hour.

Each night, Malone tends to end up in our bed sometime between midnight and 5:00 am. There is usually a one in four chance that either Mike or I will take a few kicks to the rib by his tiny little feet or he'll show up with some random treasure from his room.

Last night was no exception. He crawled up into our bed right around 3:00 am, bringing his Kleen Kanteen water bottle and wicked cough with him. He had a hard time setting into our space and was playing a really sweet game of "I want my water, here I'm done, I want it back, no take it." This went on for a half hour or so before I realized four things.

1. The water is probably helping to sooth his throat.
2. No one was going to get any sleep if Malone stayed in bed with us.
3. His water bottle was almost empty.
4. It is cold, dark, and I do not want to get out of bed to remedy #2 or #3.

I get out anyway, realizing quality sleep is more important.

So, here we are standing next to my bed at 3:30 am. I am thinking "I am SO SMART, my water bottle is here. I can just unscrew his water bottle and pour some of my water into his bottle. This is the BEST IDEA EVER."

Did I mention it is pitch black?

The pour goes well. I screw the cap of Malone's Kleen Kanteen on. I am even more impressed with myself. I mentally give myself a high five.

Then, I decide I should test out the Kleen Kanteen to make sure the lid is screwed on properly.

I hold out my hand and pour.

FAIL.

I do not realize that Malone is standing right underneath my hand.

It is still pitch black, remember?

The cap is not screwed on properly after all.

Malone is now a little wet and hysterical.

CRAP.

So much for not waking Michael up during this process and getting Malone to sleep in his room in a timely manner.

I try screwing the lid on (again in the dark) a few more times. Something isn't lining up right. I need light.

I take Malone into his room and tell him I'll be right there. I don't want to fully wake him up (as if the water didn't already do that!).

I go to the kitchen and stumble for the light.

Ahh.. it has two different screw sections. Who knew. One to seal the lid and one for the interchangeable tops.

Back to Malone's room I go. The cap is tight.

He's still mad. He's sitting up, crying hysterically.

"Are you angry at me?"

He's so worked up he's short of breath. "Yyyyyyeah. I'm mmmmmmad."

"I'm sorry buddy. I poured the water on your by mistake. It was an accident. Okay?"

"Do you want new jammies on?"

They're not super wet. Mostly because the water hit his head.

"Nnnnnooo. I waaaaaaaant my water."

I hand it to him and he takes a small sip. He's calmed down a little bit.

"There is no more left, Mama."

Oh, for Pete's sake.

Toddler logic is going to kill me. He knows the water poured out but he didn't see or hear me put more in when I was in the kitchen dealing with the blasted cap.

I don't want to fight about this one. Pick your battles right?

"Okay buddy, I will go and fill it up. You stay here."

Back to the kitchen I go, to "fill up" an already full water bottle.

I turn the faucet for a second to prove that I'm filling it.

I come back and hand it to him. He has calmed down, but asks for a tissue.

I am so smart. I anticipated this need while I was kitchen 2.75 seconds go.

I wipe his nose. I tell him I'm sorry one last time.

He reaches for my hand.

And we both fall back asleep.

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I'm linking this up with Heather at The Extraordinary Ordinary.