BinkyGate 2014

We're nearing the end of this process.

I think. I hope.

Wednesday was terrible. Noah screamed during naptime, waking Tali up as well. It was about two hours of this back and forth. I had planned on folding laundry during that time but instead I sat on the couch, sending curse-laden texts to Matt and Rosie and wishing for the sweet release of death to overtake me.

I barely managed to make dinner and when Matt casually asked if I happened to make cornbread to go along with the goulash, I about flipped.

Wednesday night was also pretty bad. Matt determined that Noah needs to just cry it out instead of us leaping out of bed all the time. So from 3 am to almost 5, he screamed. I did go in once or twice and I was torn between threatening him and cuddling him. I wanted to kiss his tear-streaked cheeks and tell him "If you love something, let it go. There's no use fighting anymore. Your binkies are dead to you."

Sometime around 3:30, I laid back down on top of the blankets. Matt asked why I wasn't covered up, as it was chilly.

"Whenever a child of mine is in distress, my heart beats faster and I get overheated. You, on the other hand, have a heart of stone and don't care."

"That's true." He said as he tucked the blankets around his neck.

Sleep deprivation does funny things to a person, as any parent knows.

I laid in bed, determined to use this time for good. Might as well put this amazing brain to work, solving the complex problems of our time.

Pretty soon though:

'I wish I was taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl and if I did, I would call her...'

Eyes wide, with a sudden realization. Hey, I do wish I was taller. Not crazy high, but a couple more inches would be nice. Like 5'6 or 5'7. Enough that I don't step on my favorite pair of yoga pants when I'm barefoot and Matt can't look over my head and make snide comments on how he can't see me.

Also, I hope that baller actually does mean a basketball player and not some strange innuendo. I merrily sang "Little Red Corvette" for years until I heard it on the radio at 25 years old and realized that the song wasn't simply about a girl who likes to drive fast.

Noah alternated between calling out for Mommy and Daddy and once perhaps an impassioned "Curse you all and your circadian rhythms!" He eventually fell into an exhausted heap. When he woke up in the morning, he was happy. He always wakes up grumpy so that was a new development. Tali, however, took the opportunity to throw fits all morning. It's hard to throw a good tantrum being so tiny but she gives it her best. It's like they were just passing the baton of misery back and forth. If it's not one, it's the other.

Last night I gave the littles a bath and was getting Tali in her pajamas. Noah was running around naked (I always have to choose who to diaper first) and he climbed on top of the air purifier near her crib (which we use as white noise to drown the sounds of Noah's soul being ripped apart by the absence of binkies). He then proceeded to pee into her crib.

I just don't have any more to say about that.

Last night was better, he woke up one time, at midnight. I tiredly asked him to please stop crying and go to sleep. He said "Ok" and went to sleep.

We've gone through the stages together: anger, grief, peeing on things, tantrums, xanax, bargaining, chocolate and acceptance.

As we seem to near the end of this horrific ordeal, I would like to give the good Lord thanks for my mother-in-law. We've always gotten along well and I'm so happy they are living near us once more. She's always helpful, always supportive. She'll often come over and take Noah for the morning or one of the older kids for a trip to the library. Or she'll come and read books and help clean. All this without being asked. Never more has she been appreciated than this week. She took Noah for the morning Wednesday and yesterday came over and washed dishes, swept the floor, watched the kids so I could go to the college bookstore and get my books for this semester. She never judges the often atrocious nature of my house and will tell me stories of how she thought she was going to lose her mind as well in the day to day dealings with small children.

It helps to know that people have survived this time in their lives and have gone on to do amazing things, like read a book in a morning or take a shower without interruption.

There's always hope.