overflow.

so, so much on my mind. i'll try to make sense of it. if my grammer is bad, i apologize. i am having trouble keeping thoughts separate at the moment...so sorry if this jumbles together.

pratt has been fighting sleep like a maniac lately. the past four nights, he's slept from around 830 to 530 or 6. it's been heaven. but getting him to sleep, not heaven. the other place.

last night was the worst so far. he took his last nap at around 1230. and woke around 1. at 4, i put him down and he woke after about 10 minutes. i figured it was because he was wet. i changed his diaper, gave him more bottle...and nothing. no sleep. at 6, he was exhausted and his mom was beyond exhausted with the worlds world headache. splitting. light hurt. sound hurt. everything hurt. he was standing in his car...grasping the windshield as tight as i've ever seen him do. just staring a hole in me. he was flat exhausted. but was not giving up the fight.

clint got home around 7. something like that. it's all really starting to run together. i just remember he said something like, "oh, good...no nap...maybe this means he will sleep all night again."

let me just say something here. NO! NO! NO! that is NOT what this means. i have told him this over and over and over again. no nap means no sleeping at night. for whatever reason...he's one of the smartest people i know...but he DOES NOT get this. no nap means overtired. and i don't care that he says this doesn't make sense. IT DOES. it's real. i live it. alot. i live the overtired thing alot. i'm the one getting up at all hours of the night. so trust me on this.

he makes the comment...and immediately, i'm done. stick a fork in me. done. d.o.n.e.

i had to fight the urge to get in my car and just drive away. anywhere. turn up the music as loud as it would go and drive. maybe to little rock...maybe to oklahoma. maybe to check on those people in the hudson river. pretty much..anywhere. but i swore a long time ago, i'd never leave. and this is considered leaving. so i hung around.

it's around 730 at this point. pratt is fussy. i get a bottle and i'm convinced that i'm feeding him and he's going to bed. clint tries to help me. i told him no. that i could do it. at this point, i meant business. and i didn't want there to be any play going on. i wasn't in the mood for play. i wasn't in the mood for late night laughs. i wanted sleep.

8 pm. i put him in his bed. he is exhausted. eyes shut. breathing slowed down. limp like a ragdoll. when i lay him down and get him semi-swaddled, he wakes. those big eyes open wide. and he begins to whimper. i just kiss his forehead and walk out.

downstairs, clint is working on his dinner. it's 8 pm and i haven't eaten...since oh, i dunno...1. seven hours ago. so i stand there. watching him make his own dinner. while i hear my child on the monitor begin to cry harder. the noise begins to rise. a little louder. it's getting worse by the minute.

i turn the oven on to make mini corn dogs. because that's literally all we have to eat. besides the ramen that my husband is making himself.

i have about 5 mini corndogs out when i get so angry. it hits me all at once.

i have cleaned bottles. i have cleaned house. i have cleaned a butt, a face, a runny nose. all of it. i've done it all by myself all day. i have a splitting headache. my child is now getting louder and louder and i look over at my husband. and you know what he's doing? he's stirring the noodles of his ramen into that dang bowl as slow as molasses.

i think he said something like, "i'll go get him. let me eat first."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

seriously!!!!???? seriously????? "let me eat first." did he really just say that?

there have been times when i've not been able to urinate because i'm busy with the child. nursing or changing a diaper or whatever. "let me eat first". o.m.g.

i think i'll put that on his tombstone. i need to write that down so that maybe 80 years from now, i'll think it's funny and not want to kill him for it.

i scream horrible words at him. horrible. and he says things right back. so don't go feeling all sorry for him (i know my mother thinks i'm terrible...and she is always on his side. so mom, don't be feeling sorry for him at this point. he deserved some of it just for making his own dinner and not asking if i was hungry. which of course i was because i hadn't eaten since 1. and i'm chubby and tend to eat every 3 to 4 hours. like a baby, yes)

i go upstairs. and i won't go into detail here...because again, it all runs together. but i remember leaning down into pratt's crib. he had tears all over his face. tears get me. they get me good. i leaned down, put my face up to the right side of his face. cheek to cheek. i'm holding his tiny little left hand in mine. i'm holding onto the side of the crib with my left hand. i'm doing the "shhhh". and i feel his little right hand come up. it ever so slightly moves around...and then he finds my forehead. and as gentle as anything i've ever experienced, he rubs my forehead with his tiny little hand. back and forth. it's at that point, i begin crying.

he has been getting pretty good with his hands. trying to reach for things. but he's never gentle about it. he's rough. he's not good with fine motor skills yet. and has a tendancy to pop you on the face. or the chest.

but not this time. this time, he moves with such grace that i am sure it was God moving through him. i am one hundred percent positive it was my Father. telling me to slow down. telling me that this little boy needs me. reminding me that i'm the mom now. and i can't go to my room anymore, slink down on my bed and cry out, "i want my mommy." because i'm the mom.

because there is a new child who will cry that. and i'm the big person who needs to be there. when all i want to do is run away.

he finally fell asleep. and i wish i could say that clint was right. and that he slept through the night. but i mean, come on. of course he didn't. he was overtired. and he woke at 1. and at 3. and then again at 5. and we were up and at 'em around 7.

he's sleeping now and has been for about 30 minutes. hopefully today he'll sleep better.

it's like i find myself at a new low. and then, with His perfect timing...i'm given the strength to get back up again.

and ps. i love my husband. but i promised myself long ago that i'd be honest here. unfortunately, pratt will not grow up in a house where clint and i don't argue. he will see us get upset with each other. but he will always know...he will always always always find comfort in knowing that we WILL work through it.

i remember seeing my parents get upset with each other. my mom had her hands full. she would leave to go to the grocery and we'd come downstairs and say, "dad, where's mom." he'd say something like, "well, you girls were fighting and wouldn't listen or eat your dinner...so she's gone to new york to live with aunt carol."

i assume she was always just driving around to let off stress. but she always came back. and we knew it.

what i'm saying is that there is no point in me trying to act perfect. clint and i argue. we fight. i cry. he doesn't...probably because i do enough for both of us.

but we will always work it out. because a cord of three strands is not easily broken, right? right.