For the past six months, the baby has been sleeping in our bedroom. We have a quaint three bedroom house, and I have been reluctant to let go of my spare bedroom / home office / craft & sewing room. I have been hoping - somewhat foolishly - that the baby would start sleeping peacefully through the night, and that he could move in with his big sister. Guess who won this battle?
Saturday night my husband and I stayed up late, err, until 11:00 pm, watching a movie. That was about the time the baby started fussing. It was about 3:30 am when the baby stopped fussing (crying, wiggling, sometimes screaming). After nursing and a dose of Tylenol, he settled to sleep for about three hours.
As I pulled myself out of bed, I said to my husband, "Get that crib out of here. I'm kicking the baby out of our room." Before he even bothered to find his slippers, he had screwdriver in hand and was dismantling the door to squeeze the crib into the hallway and back to the kid's room.
We didn't stop there. We rearranged all three bedrooms. We moved the baby to the kid's room. We moved his big sister to the spare bedroom. (Pause for grief at the loss of my office / sewing room.) We cleaned out closets. We moved boxes, storage tubs, toys and heavy furniture.
My hobbies were reduced to an old dresser crammed in the closet in the baby's room. Our college diplomas and collection of textbooks were boxed up and sent to the garage. Our children have officially taken over our home. (When will they take over the mortgage?)
Needless to say we missed church Sunday morning. I think God will give us a pass. He would rather we were rested and present in church, rather than tired and testy and spiritually absent.
I am still climbing out of the mess. My mom told me that I will get caught up in about eighteen years. I said I'll be caught up by Friday. Hmmm....I wonder who will win this battle?