Earlier this morning, around 9:30 or so, I was actually congratulating myself on my patience with the baby. She was tired, yet resisting sleep (as usual).
I didn't feel angry or upset; I felt quite calm, actually. I sat up in the bedroom with her until she fell asleep, about 30 minutes. Piece of cake. I must finally be getting the hang of this.
Fast forward about 6 hours. She was tired. I had already unsuccessfully tried to get her to nap -- twice. This meant about an hour of me rocking and nursing and her squirming and crying and biting. She was grumpy because she was tired. She'd already knocked over a large jug of water on the living room carpet. She screamed every time I left the room or, once I picked her up, tried to put her down. I was about to go insane.
Meanwhile, the DH is living it up at some biker rally in Utah.
And she's only a year old.
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