Forgive me for ranting a little. The last couple weeks have been rough. First trimester exhaustion has hit big time. I am always either voraciously hungry or feel like I am going to throw up- isn’t “morning” sickness great? I have been battling a head cold and although it has mostly resolved, I still have a bilateral ear infection. I have begun to wean Abby from her nighttime nursing and she’s not happy about it, plus she’s still waking up multiple times a night (maybe it’s teething again? I don’t know.) and only wanting to snuggle with Mom, not Dad. Needless to say, no rest for the weary.
I have tried to stay upbeat and positive but Mommy’s patience is starting to wear a little thin.
Each morning as I get ready for work I put Abby in the Pack and Play in my bedroom. This is apparently now viewed by her as a new form form of torture, judging by the constant screaming, crying, and whining that begins the moment I put her in there until the moment I take her out. Whereas she previously didn’t mind and used to play or look at books during that time, I think she doesn’t like being in there any longer because at daycare she is now one of the “big kids” and there is a new baby who uses the Pack and Play that she used to use. I can’t tell you how it has grated on my nerves hearing non-stop screaming the whole time I brush my teeth, put in my contacts, and take a shower.
Multiple nights in the last week Abby has ended up sleeping in bed with us after about 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. It is something I swore would never happen before I had a kid and while I was pregnant, but after getting up seven or eight times a night I have given up and placed her in between us so I get a little more sleep. It works great… until you get poked in the eye or kicked in the nose out of nowhere while sleeping.
Her daily temper tantrums have continued. This morning it happened three times: once because she knew it was time to get in the Pack and Play, the second time was because I put on brown boots, the third was because I wouldn’t let her eat a banana as we were getting in the car. What was wrong with my brown boots? I don’t know. As soon as she saw them, Abby began trying to unzip them and pull them off and then cried when she couldn’t do it. “Don’t you like my boots?” I asked her. “Uh-uh, no-ey!”
Normally patience is not an issue for me, but when you don’t feel good it is so much harder to take things in stride. I am trying hard to be more patient.