The Most Worstest Mother in the Ever

I am a horrible, horrible mother.

And I am being punished for my horribleness with tag-team extreme sleep deprivation.

What was my mothering crime? What warranted such hideous and horrendous punishment?

Allowing my children to cuddle in bed with me when they wake up at way-too-dark in the morning.

Last night, in addition to being horrible, I was also just plain stupid: couldn't fall asleep at a reasonable bedtime, so I stayed up late watching crappy TV. Climbed into bed around midnight.

Silly Mommy! Midnight is for college students!

First wake up was 12:45am. Chelsea. Wants to cuddle with me because her leg hurts. I zombie-walk her back to bed. Five minutes later, she's back, crying now because she can't sleep on her own. I give her medicine for her leg and whisper-yell at her to stay in bed. Five minutes later, she's back AGAIN because of course she is. The medicine is not working, she says. Now I have steam coming out of my ears and I threaten her within an inch of her life that if she does not stay in bed SANTA WILL NOT COME.

I finally get back into my bed, wide awake in my fury.

Next thing I know, it's 2am. Savannah needs her blankets fixed. I zombie over to her room, do a quick adjustment of covers, and try to leave. She begins to scream at me to stay. I pull out the big guns: "The DOCTOR says you have to go to sleep on your own. Mommy can't stay."

And dammit if it doesn't work! More cries of 'tay! Peese, Mommy! 'tay!

Now I'm whisper-yelling at her, too. Threatening to close her door if she keeps yelling. I stumble back to bed and tell Jeremy that they will never let me sleep again. He tells me it's my own damn fault and that I should just let them cry it out. (Which works great for him, 'cause guess who can sleep right through both of his children crying? Hint: It's not me!)

Next wake up: 4am. Honestly, I can't even remember who it was. Maybe I dreamed it?

Next wake up that I can recall: 5am. Chelsea again. This time, she just can't go back to sleep on her own. There is no mention of the phantom leg pain. I steer her back to bed, all the while whisper-screaming at her NOT to WAKE her SISTER.

5:45am. Chelsea is back! Again! OMFG. I snatch her up, plunk her down at the kitchen table, stick a bowl of oatmeal in front of her and go back to bed.

As I'm lying there fuming and definitely NOT sleeping, I can hear Savannah start to wake up.

Fuck.

Chelsea comes to bother me in my bed yet again, and I send her to her room to play or read or I really don't care what just keep your door shut.

Now Savannah's awake. I give her the kitchen table and oatmeal treatment and she just sits at the table and whines. I add milk to the menu (which is usually her great weakness) and get more whining.

Luckily, Jeremy comes home from the gym at this point with a bag of bagels. Savannah gets to cover her face, fingers, and much of the table in cream cheese and she is finally happy.

It is awfully quiet in Chelsea's room. I go peek and she's in bed, fast asleep.

It's now 6:30am. I've gotten a worse night of sleep than most mothers of newborns. And "furious" barely covers the level of rage that I'm stewing in.

My father-in-law told me recently that when you point your finger at someone else, notice that three of your fingers are pointing back at you.

I know this bad sleep is my fault. My fault for letting my babies cuddle in bed with me. It kills me that in order to fix this behavior I have to stop doing something that doesn't feel like horrible mothering.

It feels like loving them so much that I want to hold them forever. And knowing that the time will come, too soon, when they won't want to cuddle up to their mom in the night.

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