On this snowy winter day, Parker turned six months old. The day which, according to our
pediatrician, officially warrants him strong and mature enough to settle into his
spotless highchair, chow down on solids, and graduate from a baby bottle to a
sippy cup. Tis a big ol' day in the land of parenting and on this particular day, as the snow fell outside our kitchen windows, I cried. A lot.
But not because this attachment mama found herself overwhelmed and saddened by
how quickly time flies in the warped world of parenthood. Oh no no.
[Please prepare yourself for a couple runnnnnnn.on.and.on.and.on sentences.]
Imagine one burnt finger, two loads of laundry, one teething
baby, two failed nap attempts, one explosive poo, two frustrating and non
productive conversations with the local Pharmacist, and one gigantic blue paint
stain forever soaked into our white carpet all before the clock struck 11:00am and my exhausted
little man decided he’d like to ring in his half birthday by skipping out on
his morning cat nap. You know, the
forty minute nap where I typically run around the house like a liberated yet crazy
housewife, jumping in and out of the shower to rinse the lovely combination of milk, poo, and urine off my pale, vitamin-D deficient bod, brew a
strong pot of tea, stuff an oversized and unsorted load of very dirty laundry into the washer, and
quietly unload dishes from the world’s smallest dishwasher, all while munching on
a quick sugar-packed snack. Today, Parkerman had other plans and declared those tasks rather
unimportant on his ever-so-important half birthday.
I'll spare you the details of our snowy drive to visit the always-classy Super Walmart, and fast forward to our non-existent afternoon nap. Having sung, rocked, and set down my sleepy kiddo from 1:45-3:00pm I finally decided it was necessary to implement Operation: Cry It Out ---> this mama's LEAST favorite sleep strategy. Twenty-three long minutes after reluctantly beginning this cruel and unusual punishment, I surrendered to the sleep Gods and opened the door to my screaming son's nursery. And in that moment, instead
of shedding a tear over how quickly my little boy was turning into a little
man on his big and exciting half birthday, I found myself holding tight to my strong-willed, nap-less little man, curled up in the rocking chair, while many a’ tears streamed down our touching
cheeks. His flesh was red hot, and soaked in tears, as we both sobbed together & shared a nice little moment together. One that I'd rather not relive any time soon.
And now my friends, as the clock strikes 9:00pm and Parker rubs his red,
sleepless eyes, while being rocked and sung to by his patient and wonderful daddio I find myself thanking God that in this chaotic and sleep-deprived home, parenthood is a team
sport. And I do believe I’ve got the very
best teammate in town.
Here's to hoping Team Collier will score a few hours of sleep somewhere in the next six months!
