In September of 2007 I started this crazy thing called blogging. Which…WOW, this is the longest I’ve ever stuck to anything. But that’s neither here nor there.
So. Back in 2007, when I had this fricking awesome blog called Such Simple Pleasures where I complained constantly about my then almost 4 year old son never sleeping through the night AND never sleeping in his own bed to boot. Not to mention the fact that he was attached to my left arm which seemed to be his lovey.
Then, in May of 2008, I moved over here to Rock and Drool. Where I continued my kvetch-fest regarding lack of sleep and lack of feeling in my left arm.
Now? My night owl is in kindergarten. Actually, he is about to finish up his kindergarten year. *sniffle* A first grader. My baby.
And finally, slowly through this year, he decided he didn’t want to be a baby anymore. So he stopped. Completely. And without warning. Calling out for me to come get him. OH, my heart…
He just decided that it was time to let Mommy and Daddy sleep alone. In their bed. Without any small to medium sized elbows in their noses and stinky kid feet up their butts. And Mommy was allowed to have her own arm to do whatever she wanted with. Seeing as, it’s the left one and I’m right handed, not much happens with that arm anyways.
Yeah. I’m thankful that finally, 6 years later, I can (mostly) sleep through the night…
There are no more sleepy sojourns to his room where I try to muster my strength in order to lift him and then walk the hall, still half asleep, back to my room.
He is a big boy. And I’m so proud of him. He was determined. He did it all by himself. OK, fine. For the sake of disclosure, there may have been a little bribe involving a toy. Really though, what’s a little bribe, especially if it works?
Now though, my main complaint. The thing I can kvetch about the most is…
I miss my baby.
All I’m left with are obnoxious, smelly, loud mouth teens/tweens and a 6 year old who is learning well from all the big sibs. But no babies.
No, I won’t be having anymore. I’m perfectly content in the fact that I will eventually, a LONG time from now, have grandchildren. But it still doesn’t change the fact that MY baby…my babies. The ones that came flying out my girl parts. Oh, and one was cut out. They aren’t babies anymore.
So I guess that’s my life, evolving, which is something new to complain about, eh?
By the way, sleeping through the night hasn’t cured my exhaustion. What’s up with that?