It is three AM and I’m out.
I’m out of patience. I’m out of tricks. I’m out of calming ideas. I’m out of serenity. All that’s left is the tired grumpy mom portion of me and one inconsolable one year old. Since I have learned through experience that an upset, cranky, irritated mother does nothing but make the situation worse, after an hour of trying to get Clara back to sleep I’ve abandoned her to figure it out herself.
Sometimes, it is best just to walk away.
Laying in bed listening to her did nothing for my sleep or my mood. My thoughts were ranging between visions of running away to a quite place with soft feather beds where there are no children, dogs, alarms, phones or insane wind gusts to disturb my sleep, to contemplating homicide because John (after a Clara calming attempt of his own) was sleeping through everything quite soundly. I could tell from the sounds of the snoring.
So again, sometimes it is best just to walk away.
Instead of pretending I’m getting sleep I came downstairs and found this picture. A happy Clara with the classic nose wrunkle:
I’m not sure what it is about that nose wrunkle but it’s contagious. Clara smiles at someone, anyone, and they all wrinkle up there noses and smile right back. I’ve seen family, friends, checkout ladies at the grocery store, strangers at the park, all grin and wrunkle up their own noses. Which makes me smile and wrinkle up mine.
Now with a happy thought, and quite noises from above I’m back off to bed!
Behind the Willows 
Hang in there, I remember those nights. It’s way too quiet around here now. How come Dads can sleep through them??
I too wonder how men have that amazing gift. They can hear and get angry about a cat purring too loud under the covers on the other side at the foot of the bed, but cannot hear the screaming child.
What a great diversion you used to get back to happy thoughts. You are so smart.
Barfing dogs, John can hear a dog barfing and be up in moving in seconds. Kid screaming… nada.
During all the screaming Ivy had gone into our room while I was with Clara. When the crying started in there I switched kids to find Ivy curled up on the floor by my bed. When I asked what was a matter she told me “I don’t’ like boys!” The next day I asked John what he told her that caused her not to like boys. His answer… He had no idea, said he was sleeping and he could have been “speaking dutch for all I know.” Which he doesn’t speak… men, seriously… at least I’ve got someone to clean up the dog barf!