Meltdowns and Milestones

I know, it's been a long time since I've updated you guys on all the happenings. As of late, the Prince is getting to be of the age of "Look at me!", "Give me attention, I'm cute!", and the ever popular "If yelling at you didn't get my point across, I'll try yelling louder." He's getting to be 2 years old. This is his way.There has been quite a bit that's happened since we've last spoken, Lovelies. So let's cover the basics first:

The Prince had his 2 year check up, and he's growing fabulously! Unfortunately, he is quite a bit behind on most all of his milestones, for various reasons, mostly lack of opportunity, and the chaos that is our lives. We're working with him and will check on his progress in a few months, but it may lead to Early Intervention. That's OK. The doctor isn't really concerned with autism being a factor for him, but does think that it may help in the long run. I can't disagree with that.

We've recently had some progress with the Princess, but not before we hit the biggest rough patch in our journey so far. You see, when I've talked about behaviors before, while the pounding her feet on the floor was bad, I never realized that it could get so much worse. Worse, it did get. Much worse.

We were going into a break at school, we'd just had the Princess' 4th birthday, things were looking great. Sleeping was still up in the air, but on most nights, once she went to sleep, she slept well.  The night of her birthday, I don't believe she slept well. Nor the night after. With each night that sleep was lost, the more angry her mood became, or seemed to be. She was waking in the morning in full on melt down mode, would have brief moments of peace, but they could end so quickly that my head was spinning.

Over the course of the next four days-- A weekend, no less.-- the behaviors that I thought were bad quickly faded, and what replaced them was something I wish I had never seen. My beautiful little girl was hitting herself. Straight slapping herself in the face, if she had toys in her hands they'd be used. She was banging her head into the wall hard enough that she caused 3 separate holes in them. Not only that, but headbutting objects as well. Running from one side of the room to the other to try to get as much velocity as possible.

The King and I were taking turns chasing after her with a pillow to make sure that she couldn't hurt herself. It was exhausting. Each cry, every sound. Always wondering is this round 2, 3, 10? The King scheduled a day off from work so we could take her into her doctor. What we needed, we had no idea. What we wanted was help. That's what we got.

It didn't come without it's own adventure. The night before the appointment, the Princess woke at 1am and was up until 6am. I had to be up at 7am to make the appointment-- emergency appointment procedure.-- I was able to get one hour of sleep in. Now, not knowing how to word what I needed to the receptionist was what stood in my way. Upon even saying tantrums, I was cut off and not allowed to complete what I was looking to achieve, especially if I had already spoken to her primary about it. I couldn't be sure exactly what counted as talking about tantrums, and it ended in my yelling through my own tears, "Please! You don't understand! Can I please see anybody else? Please!" When I was told no, that they'd leave a message, I felt defeated.

I couldn't wake my husband to tell him of my failure. That's all I saw it as. Failure. When the King did wake up, and I told him of the situation, he jumped to work. One hour and fifteen minutes later was our appointment. I was assured by the King that his only wish was that I had woken him sooner, that he couldn't blame me.-- I love this man for a reason, but I digress.-- The moment we walked into the exam room, I was overwhelmed with support. Each new person to walk into the room had a new piece of news that I was floored.

The doctor ordered a new prescription for the Princess to help her sleep at night. It was our last resort medicine that also helps with behaviors. It's worked wonders. Now my little lady is waking up happy, sleeping well at night, all night. Even more, she stopped hitting herself. She's more talkative, more affectionate, learning new things. Sure she still has the occasional outburst, but I know that she's not numb that way. And they are outbursts with reasons, she's actually hungry, in need of a diaper, or thirsty.
We also got a referral to a child psychologist. I'm still skeptical of this one, because for everything that I know-- As a layman, of course.-- about therapies such as this would require a patient that is verbal. I am going into it with an open mind, however. You never know what someone who is educated in the field can do, after all.

The referral that I'm most excited for though is a feeding/swallowing evaluation. These people specialize in children with autism, and can cover so much of the things that we are dealing with, that I just feel like that is the place we need to be.

I know with all of these new referrals that our lives will never be slow paced truly again. We're going to have a lot of doctors appointments in our future, but it's worth it. The independence that I am seeing in my Princess these days is nothing short of incredible. I'm still so proud to be her mommy.

I will try to do better to make more time to update you all, my Lovelies. With this new pace we are setting, it takes another period of adjustment. Once we get into the swing of things, I'm sure I'll be up regularly. I know I'll have so much to update you on, and I know I haven't covered everything up until this point either.
So until next time, Lovelies, I hope you all have a Happy Holiday season!

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Today, October 15th, 2013 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day. Oddly, it's also around 5 years to the day that I suffered a miscarriage. So, in honor of this day, while it has nothing to do with autism, or my little royals, I thought I'd open up and share a brief but profound moment in my history. I will try to keep the graphic details to myself mostly, but anyone who knows anything about miscarriage knows that these stories are not for the squeamish. So, if you would like, now is the time to go back.

The King and I had only been married for a few months, but together for years when I first started thinking about having a family. After some discussion on the topic, we had decided to start trying to get pregnant. After only a couple of months, we were blessed to have gotten a positive pregnancy test! I was so excited, my family was on it's way. I immediately started to day dream about what life as a new mother would be like. In my excitement, I shared with anybody and everybody who would listen to my news. I was to be a mommy very soon!

Then the morning sickness set in, but it didn't seem so bad. I was counting the weeks, one by one, and I'll admit looking back, my morning sickness did ease up. I paid it no attention, since I was nearly twelve weeks, and almost out of the first trimester. Morning sickness was supposed to ease by now. The morning of my miscarriage started normally enough. The King had to get up and go to work, and I was going to enjoy a nice quiet day at home.

When I started to experience the cramping, I really didn't think much of it, because I'd had some in the beginning part of my pregnancy, and I figured it was growing pains. So I laid down on the couch to watch T.V. and take it easy. They progressively started to get worse. By the point I was doubling over in pain with each cramp, I knew something was wrong. I went to the bathroom, only to confirm my fears. I was bleeding.
I didn't know much about miscarriage up until that point. I knew it was more likely in the first trimester, but once you hit the second chances where less likely. I knew you bled. I did not think it would happen to me. When I passed the first clot, I thought that it was the baby. I didn't know otherwise. I called my mother sobbing, unsure of what to do now. I called my doctor, while she called my best friend. They told me to rest and take it easy, and to come in if I felt the need to.

After about 20 to 30 minutes of handling this alone, my best friend showed up ready to bring me to the hospital. In this process, both my mother and my best friend had also been attempting to reach my husband, who while at work it's hard to reach him. When they finally got a hold of him, he left immediately to rush to the ER, only to beat us there. The way it worked out, I ended up sitting next to my best friend's eight month old son. It's just the way it worked out, I do not begrudge her this, never have. I digress. I remember sitting in the back seat, as he looked at me, thinking about the fact that my chances of motherhood where over. It was hard, but I got through it. When we arrived at the ER entrance, the King was right there waiting with a wheelchair, and had apparently already registered me.

It didn't take long to get back to a room, and finally they had given me something for pain. I laid in that bed, hopeless. I felt like the ultimate failure. My body couldn't do the one thing it was made to do. As ultrasound machines were rolled in, it only confirmed suspicions that the baby wasn't there, they could find no heartbeat. When checking the progress of the miscarriage, it seemed that my body wasn't doing what it was supposed to. It was soon decided that I needed an emergency D&C. D&C, also known as dilation and curettage, is a surgical procedure often performed after a first trimester miscarriage.-- This information was pulled from americanpregnancy.org and you can find the article here.-- I was taken to OR prep, where I was put under.

When I woke up in recovery, I was confused for a bit. As I grasped my  bearings about me, the events of the day came back. I renewed my tears again at the thought of the loss of the baby. MY baby. I no longer had a life inside of me, as I had when I woke up that morning. It was more than 12 hours later, and nothing was the same. I fell into a bit of a depression after that. I no longer wanted to try for a new baby. I didn't want to think about trying to replace what I just lost. Besides, my body failed me. After we left the ER, we decided to go get food. We went to our favorite 24 hour restaurant, and one of the regular waitresses saw us, walked right up to us smiling, and proclaimed "I heard you were having a baby! Congratulations!" I don't know who's face fell hardest, hers or mine when I had to tell her that the news was no longer.

After several months, I started to come around. I realized that my body didn't fail me, that there was likely something wrong with the baby. It was never discovered why I lost the baby, just that it didn't look like it made it past six weeks. I eventually came to the conclusion that I might be OK with trying again. Really, I decided not to prevent. Wouldn't you know it, it didn't take long to get a new positive pregnancy test. I was far more apprehensive this time though, not wanting to share the news with everyone, just in case I lost another. This one was meant to be, though.

Tonight, at 7pm my time zone I will be lighting a candle for my angel baby. I encourage you to do the same.

Sucess, Failure and Soup

When I first imagined life with my new Princess, I expected the first several months to be many ups and downs, and plenty of sleepless nights. Now, almost four years later, it's supposed to be mostly balanced. By now, most children are sleeping through the night, perhaps different times for bedtimes, different struggles to get there; but by the time they're out, that's it until morning.

4:00 am is a time where most are usually asleep. The only real activity amongst the family is deep breathing, and perhaps some snoring. Not in my house. Usually, at that hour, there are at least two members of our household up. The Princess and myself. Depending on the night, it could be pleasant, or it could be miserable. There could be many ups and downs, or there could only be a few. The one constant is that there is almost always someone awake in this house at all times. As I'm sure you've assumed by now, our first attempt at night time meds aren't working as effectively as we'd like.

The first week was great, from there we went straight down hill. The other night was probably the first time that the Princess had woken both the King and I. It was a particularly tumultuous night. The day before was a rough one. Paired with little sleep, and two royals who simultaneously felt the need to scream at the mommy all day, I was in tears by the time the King got home. This happens sometimes, but with the extra pair of hands, things went smoother and eventually everything was peaceful. Until 3:00 AM.

That's when it started. It started similarly to every other late night. The Princess is screaming, I try to change her, get her some milk and a movie. This was not enough for her, and that's when some head banging began. My nerves already shot, that was the final straw, and the tears started flowing again. I attempted to feed her, attempted to get her to calm down, but to no avail. The King decided to step in to lend a helping hand.

When usually the Princess sees her daddy, she's immediately all smiles, this night was different. She kept going right back to the wall to commence head banging. When he tried to redirect her, she went to a different wall. It came time to try to protect her from herself, and he fought to keep her in a hug with him. She's strong. Honestly, when she's in these moods, my only hope is to get between her and the wall. There's no way I can get her to stay in one spot.

Finally, we were able to get things settled down once more, and after reflecting with the King, I realized-- Probably for the very first time-- how lost he really felt in all of this. He's always held this stoic attitude, and perhaps so have I. For the first time I saw his vulnerability in not knowing how to deal with our autistic Princess. It was heart breaking, and heart warming all at once.

We both woke up sleep deprived the next morning, but honestly, I rather see him in a new light these days. He, like me, is just doing the best he can. That's all we can do. That and find extra things to channel the frustration that come with the hurdles. To channel my extra frustration lately, I've been cooking. It's funny because at one point, the word "domestic" in any way was akin to a four letter word. Never let it be uttered, lest it summon up something as unholy as, say Beetlejuice. I digress.

What I've realized is that for me, cooking has become an outlet. My "do-over" button. Life to me trying to raise a Princess with autism is like a series of attempts and failures. I attempt to get her to eat something else, I fail. I attempt to get her to sleep at night, I fail. With each new attempt, I hit another brick wall. Cooking though, I can follow the guidelines, I can experiment. Usually if I fail, I can pinpoint an exact step in which I failed, to correct and be successful later.

As selfish as I feel to say it, it helps boost my confidence. I love the fact that after all of my effort, I can taste it and be proud that I created this. The look on the Prince's face as he eats and enjoys each new menu item warms my heart. So much better than baby food. This is the confidence I think I've needed to continue to push forward and attempt and fail. Eventually, though I wont fail. There will always be small successes, and big successes. Small failures and big failures. Each as significant as the other. In the meantime, between the successes and the failures, I will cook.

Grieving the Loss of 'Normal'

If you know me, you know that I detest the word "normal". Maybe it's because of the Princess' autism diagnosis, but I think I've always disliked it. I've never truly believed that there was any such thing as "normal". Then again, I suppose there could be several definitions, or interpretations of "normal". The "normal" that I grieve is one of a different caliper.

Upon receiving the Princess' diagnosis, it shattered any remaining illusions that I had built up in my mind. To me at that point, "normal" was going to be watching my daughter grow, learn and try new things. I was going to sit in amazement at her ability to pick up words, watch with amusement the clumsy learning to roll, crawl and eventually, walk. I would baulk at my toddler's new found independence; while showing pride in my wide beaming smile, I'd of course secretly be wishing my little girl would remain my baby forever. After all, this is what MY peers where doing. The new mommies of little ones right around my age, in all different walks of life, from all different parts of the country.

So of course, when we received the diagnosis, my world, my dreams and fantasies came crashing down around me. I definitely have gone through many different phases of emotions since then. The most underlying of course is love for my Princess, for my Prince. I blamed myself for so long, that I almost didn't know what it was like to not feel guilty. It wasn't until recently that I've started to come out of this tunnel, and with the light that I see, comes a bit of clarity.

I've come to the conclusion that I had to grieve. I still do. Like the loss of a loved one, a diagnosis of autism-- Or any other illness or anything that affects us for the rest of our lives, for that matter-- can completely rock your world.  You have effectively killed off your fantasies of how life would have gone, could have gone, should have gone. Life as you know it, or have dreamed of it will never be the same. I now understand that I've had to go through my own five stages of grief. I'd like to share it with you, Lovelies.

1. Denial: 
My denial phase actually went on before we even received the diagnosis. I denied there was even an issue for so long. "Oh, look. She's holding her bottle now, she'll be fine.",  "She's just being stubborn, why should she if we will for her?",  "All that eye contact she gives me! Nope, no problems here!". The list can go on, but man. If denial was a river in Egypt, I would have flooded it with my additions. Absolute mayhem.

2. Anger:
Oh goodness, this one is what I feel is the most selfish of all, for me at least. Those who truly know me, know that I haven't always had the easiest of childhoods. I've never seen myself as a victim, I am a survivor. Once we received the Princess' diagnosis, that changed for a bit. I was angry! All I could see was myself and my life. It was gone. "Why me?" I'd ask myself. "Haven't I been a good enough person? Haven't I been through enough?" I was so focused on what this meant to me, to MY life, that I never stopped to think about one thing. This wasn't happening to ME. This was happening to HER. She was the one living in a body that wanted to betray her. SHE was the one struggling to get her want or need from herself and communicate it with me. Not the other way around. Once I understood this, the anger left. For the most part at least. This is one that likes to rear it's ugly head occasionally. Just to a much lessor extent these days. As soon as I was able to let the anger go, that's when the next step came in.

3. Bargaining:
Oh the bargaining. I sure did bargain. "Maybe if I had her do more tummy time as an infant...", "If only I read to her more...",  "Perhaps if I had just done...". Boy did I blame myself. I knew that this had to be something that I did or didn't do. This couldn't have happened to her if it weren't for me! It's taken time, but I do understand that it was absolutely nothing I did or didn't do. It just is. It's not because I vaccinated her, or didn't. It's not because she didn't go to daycare and get social interaction. This was meant to be her existence; and by proxy, mine.

4. Depression:
They say this one can come in many forms. It doesn't have to be debilitating sadness. We each process differently, after all. But boy did the tears flow. I cried at the Princess' loss of a "normal" life. I cried for her, I cried for myself. I cried for the fact that my world was shattered. I cried because she's the one who has to deal with it all, and she never asked for more than to exist. When the tears stopped coming, I was sad. Sad at the struggles, sad for the Prince the fact that he will most likely love his sister so much that he my decide to take care of her. When does he get to be a kid? That's one that I am still working on.

5. Acceptance:
Ah, the fifth and final stage. This is the one that it has taken me longest to get to, and I'm not always sure that I'm quite there yet. Almost. I know that autism just is, and I am learning that it is not the end all that I once thought it was. It's taken time and support to come around to this finding. I never would have come to this point if it weren't for the support of those around me. Those who loved the Princess and myself so much that they became our own cheering team. To those cheerleaders-- and I know you know who you are.-- Thank you. We couldn't have come this far without you.

The Cold Bug Strikes Again

Hello again, Lovelies. Welcome back. September marks many things. The end of summer and summer vacation. Fall is on it's way in, and with that comes colorful leaves, cooler weather and the start of school. Which brings me to the next thing that September usually brings. The start of the cold and flu season. It's back in full swing in our home, and frankly this is why I hate this time of year.

Let me tell you about probably one of the worst days I've had so far. It all starts with a certain Princess starting to sound a little 'off'. She's drinking her cups a little slower, seems to be breathing through her mouth a little. Was that a sniffle I detected? The next day, I learned that yes, it was in fact a sniffle. Two days later, the Prince seems to be starting this same process. Flash to Sunday evening, everybody is trying to wind down for the night. The Princess is given her night time meds, the Prince even seems to go down early. I take this as a moment to get some extra shut eye myself.

At about 1:30am, I awaken to the Prince screaming his little heart out. He's happy to see me, I try to get him a bottle and a snack. He's calm and settles back down into bed. Again, I decide to do the same. 3:30am comes around, and same story. We actually repeat this process a few times over the course of the night. At about 7:30am, we're back at it, and I have to admit, I'm cranky. As I am cursing the husbands name-- Audibly to him, I'm to find out later.-- I step out of my bedroom onto the kitchen floor, and before I know it my feet are out from under me and I've landed-- Hard.-- on my side.

To say at that moment I felt like one of the kids is an understatement. In that moment, my actions are exactly what I have witnessed my children do: Lay stunned for a moment, shocked that this just happened. Once that feeling wore off, I cried. Yes, I surely did. The King then came out to find me on the floor, crying and both children crying as well. Once I got over the fact that I fell, I pulled myself off of the floor, assessed my own injuries, then continued on to take care of feeding the Princess.

I'd like to say that's where the story got less chaotic for me, but alas, I cannot. You see, both the Royals are sick, and now I am injured. The King has to go to work, so I did what I do best: push through and hope for a smooth day. Half of my goal came true. I did push through. At different points of the day, I was dealing with one or the other screaming. One's nose is running, the other can't breath, we need a new movie. If it wasn't one or the other, it was both.

The way the Prince was screaming most of the day, I'd swear the "man cold" is starting way early. Is that even possible? He's not quite 2 years old yet, and still he screams louder than his sister on this one. He wasn't eating, or drinking. Just stuffy and miserable. In a moment of frustration, after the umpteenth attempt to get him to eat on his own, I busted out a jar of baby food. For the first time since he has started eating table food, he opened his mouth and allowed me to feed him this puree.
For the first time in the house all day, there was peace. Unfortunately, this took me until about 4:00pm and countless baths and tears to figure it out. I'm not saying it all got better, it just got a little easier to deal with. When the King got home, I did have a second pair of hands to help, but we still had many moments of chaos.

Today, the Prince has eaten eggs, at least. So, he's feeling a bit better. The Princess is foregoing her usual two jars of food a sitting for one. Anything more just increases the reminder that her nose is stuffy. So while we are doing more feedings, she's at least still eating. I can tell she's feeling a bit better, but I have a feeling that as far as moods go, it's going to be a while before she's truly her happy go lucky self.
I'm healing too, still very stiff and bruised-- Which is made truly known when the Princess kicks the leg I landed on.-- but I'll survive.

On another note, I did receive a phone call yesterday about the Princess' medical diagnosis. It seems her referral was approved, and now we just need to make appointments and keep them. I'm so happy to see this forward movement in the process that I just can't seem to sit still. Or maybe that's the sick Royals. Either way, I will most definitely keep you, my Lovelies in the loop! Until next time, stay healthy!

"You're Doing a Great Job"

Hello there, Lovelies. I know, it's been a while. It's been crazy busy, I swear we go through these cycles that last for a few weeks of chaos, then back to our "normal routine" whatever that may be these days. So what's been keeping me so busy, you may ask? Well, I recently had to have a tooth pulled, our washing machine broke down and on top of all of that, we were still struggling with sleep issues. Don't cry for me, Lovelies. The truth is most of these things are solved now. Most.

So finally, I made the appointment with the Princess' doctor to address the sleep issues. Due to lack of a car, I had to bring both of the Royals with me. I normally prefer to find a babysitter for the one whom the appointment isn't for, but when it comes down to it, you have to do what you have to do. Seeing as how it's the first week of preschool for the Princess, it's more important now than ever to really get these sleep issues under control. So, as usual, I planned my outing down to the very tiniest detail I could.

I made sure to find the diagnosis paperwork, should the doctor's office need it. I pre-packed everything I could. I couldn't find my purse, so I used my son's backpack. Yep, I was the mom carrying a backpack that was clearly for one of her children.-- My hubby later told me that he had found my purse, it has slipped behind the washer. Where it still sits.-- Everything was going according to plan. OK, maybe not fully according to plan, we were about ten minutes late to the appointment.

We arrive at the doctor's office, and I get the Prince out first. I set him on the seat while I work towards getting the Princess out of hers. When I did, I set her down so I could pick up the Prince-- My first mistake-- the Princess tried to bolt. I grabbed her, and we made our way into the parking garage to the elevator. The Princess had never stepped onto an elevator before, and that tiny gap between the car and the floor of the platform really threw her off. Carefully, she did. Riding in the elevator, she stared at the floor that she could tell was moving under her, but the room didn't look like it. I couldn't help but giggle at the wonder on her face.

We get into the office, and the first thing she does is start running back and forth. I checked us into our appointment, all while keeping an eye on my little lady. It was an hour long wait to get back to the examination room. All the while, the Princess was running. I had tried a few times-- To no avail.-- to get her to sit next to her brother on one of the chairs. At some point I was finally successful, but I had to kneel in front of both of them to keep them entertained.-- By the way, if you were in the office that day, and I blocked your path, I am truly sorry.-- another little girl, no older than 5 years old sat on the other side of the Prince and smiled at me and the Royals.

Eventually, the Prince demanded to be picked up, and once that happened getting the Princess to sit in one spot is next to impossible. So she started running. Someone left the door to the back rooms open, she noticed. Within seconds, she had run into the back offices. You bet, I was the mom who then carried my youngest in my arms while running after her. I got a friendly smile from the nurse, and I asked which way to go to get back to the waiting room. After giving me directions she said, "You've got your hands full, huh?"

What I wanted to say was, "Nah, just getting my exercise." or something equally as sarcastic, yet positive. All that came out was, "Just a little."

Upon re-entering the waiting room, of course the Princess started running again. The same little girl from earlier decided that it looked like fun, and ran after her. Too cute for words. Finally, we were called back to a room. The usual steps happen, lets check weight. Of course they wanted her shoes to come off, and of course she ran to a supply room before I had a chance to catch her. I set the Prince down, and retrieved her. Got her shoes off, then got her weight.

Next, height. Stand against the wall. As I'm trying to position her, there goes the Prince, attempting to go exploring. Thankfully the sweet nurse did get him, and we got her height-- 3'4", I might add.-- then she bolted down the hallway. Suddenly feeling a pull between the Prince who was right there wanting to explore, and the Princess who is now down the hallway already exploring, I made the quickest decision possible. To chase after the Princess. Finally I caught up to her and got her back, and we were on our way to a room. Thankfully the nurse carried the Prince.

Once in the room, the basics are covered as well, check her blood pressure, get a bit of the "why" we are here today, heart rate, etc. The Prince decided this is the point where he is going to start screaming. I try to change him, no luck. He wont take his bottle, he just wants to scream in my ear. The Princess is going back and forth on being moody, or happy. The nurse finishes her duties and informs me the doctor will be in shortly. While we are alone, I work towards getting both kids settled. Graham cracker for the Prince. He's still not happy. Toys for the Princess-- Yes, I did pack several-- I hear the knock on the door and the doctor comes in.

The Prince is still crying in my arms, and the Princess is losing her cool very quickly. She sees the doctor's laptop and wants to play. When she's denied, that is it. We go into full blown tantrum mode.-- Which is kind of a good thing, because she doesn't generally do this in public, but having the doctor see it was key.-- The Princess went down the list of all of the behaviors: Head banging, heel kicks to the floor, squeezing things-- like my arm, or her stuffed animal.-- All the while the Prince is still screaming in my ear, and the doctor is asking me questions, and giving me tips as to next steps to take for a medical diagnosis-- Yes, we currently have an educational one, that covers her preschool. Once we have a medical diagnosis, I will make sure to let you all know of the difference--  and I am busy bouncing back and forth between children to try to calm both.

The Prince was tired. He eventually fell asleep on my shoulder. We wrapped up the appointment with a sleeping medicine prescription having been sent in to the pharmacy. On the doctor's way out, she told me, "You're doing a great job." Man, those five words meant all the world to me in that moment. I wont go into all the details of getting the Royals packed up and out the door, as I'm pretty sure this post is long enough. I will say, however, that upon getting back into the car and taking my first breath, I looked down and yep. I found the graham cracker from earlier. Down my shirt.

So yes, I was the stereotypical frazzled mom, chasing after one toddler while carrying the other. Clearly overwhelmed. The thing that made it all better was getting the affirmation that I was doing a great job. So to you, Mom in the grocery store with the child having a meltdown because you denied them the sugary cereal or candy bar or toy, you're doing a great job. To you, the parent driving the car while your children scream at you and you try desperately to keep your cool to drive safely, you're doing a great job. To all moms, dads, caregivers, guardians: You're doing a great job.

Nap Time

Good evening, Lovelies. I guess morning. It's about 4:30 am here, and I've been up for an hour. At 11 pm, I just couldn't keep my eyes open. By 3:30 am, I was up with the little royals again. What a wonderful nap. Now I sit here drinking my hot chocolate-- After an agonizing hour of battling with myself whether or not to make coffee. I opted for not yet. That could change.

Sleeping issues are something that have been quite prevalent in my world lately, and frankly, it sucks. The Prince would be easy enough-- In theory-- to wake up after a late night, deprive him of a nap and regulate his schedule. He sleeps. When he does finally go down for bedtime, he is out for eight or nine hours. With anywhere from a two to three hour nap in the middle. This is what the King and many others have recommended. To be completely honest, the only reason I don't do it is because I'm exhausted. Usually on those late nights, I've been up with the Prince AND the Princess. When I do finally buck up and bear it, I'm certain this will most likely be successful. Again, he sleeps. The Princess naps.

That is quite literally the only explanation I can give. When she sleeps, she sleeps anywhere from two to four hours at a time, and that's it. She'll be up for hours afterwards. Then down for two to four hours, rinse and repeat.

A real example of her sleeping schedule the last week or so-- We'll start from going to bed:

10:00 pm-11:00 pm: Falls asleep after a busy day.
1:00 am-2:00 am: Awake, usually in need of a diaper change and to eat two jars of food.
4:30 am-6:00 am: (This one varies) Eat two more jars of food and fall asleep.
9:30 am-11:00 am: Awake for the day.

Gosh, seeing that written out is almost a little depressing to me. Especially when I think of the earlier days of our existence with our Princess. She was an amazing sleeper. I couldn't have asked for an easier baby on that front. From about 2.5 months she started sleeping in her own bed, in her own room. Through the night. OK, I lied. We'd wake once through the night, requiring a bottle; then right back to bed until morning. It wasn't until she was about 2 years old that she started regressing, and I haven't seen those easy days since.
I've tried everything. I've tried night time routine. I've tried Melatonin-- On doctor's orders. I've tried herbal tea that promotes sleep. It's supposed to be amazing stuff. Maybe I'll try it next time I get non-children induced insomnia. With her, I tried to sneak it into her bottle. First I tried the mixture the same ratio as I do water to milk in her cups. That did not go over well. A few hours later-- And a trusted bottle later-- I tried two droplets of the tea-- Lemon ginger, for those wondering-- in her normal drink. Apparently, it's the little things and she still refused. So here I sit with tea and melatonin and a very awake Princess.

The King made a comment to me last night before I crashed. Something about it not being healthy to adapt to this nocturnal schedule like I am. I don't disagree with him. I sense where it's hitting my health. Beyond being exhausted and bags under my eyes, I've noticed some digestion issues. My temper is a little shorter than I'd like. I get random twitches and ticks. I know that if I were to consistently get enough sleep, that will all change. It makes me think though. If lack of sleep is doing all of this to me and my typically functioning body, what is it doing to the Princess'?

I know part of her sleeping issues are her all-fruit-all-the-time-diet. All that sugar, natural or not, can't possibly be good for her. She just wont even LOOK at anything else. Any other option at this moment is public enemy number one in the Princess' eyes. But I wonder if maybe we were able to get her to sleep, maybe we'll be able to get over the dietary issues. And the behavioral issues. Maybe that babbling stringing together that's starting to sound like sentences will become sentences. Maybe, just maybe.

So how do I do this, you may ask? How am I going to possibly get the Princess to sleep? I don't know. I do know that with the school year quickly approaching, I need to do something. Her doctor had mentioned getting her on a sleep aid at one point. First we would try melatonin to reset her internal clock. It didn't work. I haven't gotten her on any other sleep aids yet. I've heavily thought on it, and truthfully I maybe should have already just done it. I just haven't been ready yet. Something about giving my almost four year old a sleep aid almost feels selfish to me. Like I'm drugging her so that I can get some shut eye. If I can just keep wading through these nights, maybe I'll get my amazing sleeper back.

I know it sounds silly. I do. I can't help it. I am facing the reality that in fact I might be helping her.  As the King said, it's not healthy to have this sleep schedule. Maybe this is just one more thing to buck up and bear.