ISIS has nothing on my kids when it comes to making me lose sleep. When the clock strikes 8pm, my little angels transform into terrorists. It is bedtime. Go to sleep.
I do not negotiate with terrorists.
Sometimes they’re merely ill-timed adorable requests for hugs & kisses, sugar coated with a compliment, “Pretty mama! Need hug! Need kiss!” I’ll admit that even if this happens at 3am, it warms my heart.
The demands & tantrums, however, do not give me the warm fuzzy feels. “NEED WATER!”, which is by their bed. “Tuck me in!”, when I’ve already recovered them thrice & they intentionally kick blankets off. Don’t get me started on the 2am-3:30am tantrum that finally wore the little guy out. Try calming down after that to return to sleep. It was rough.
What’s going on? Is this demonic manifestation? Growth spurts? Quit toying with my emotions & let me sleep.
Do I call Homeland Security? A priest to perform an exorcism? Ghostbusters?
Know what? I love this problem. I’ll take sleepless nights with my babies over my glorious days of sleeping in. This won’t last forever. Even as I type this, I’m already seeing the humor in it. I’ll sleep. Eventually.