…and then she realized she could milk it.

You know, if I had a cozy, dark room filled with items designed exclusively for the promotion of deep, restful sleep, and a daily naptime, and an allotted 10-12 hours for sleep each night, I would be in hog heaven.

It’s amazing what certain people take for granted. And it’s a really good thing certain people are EXTREMELY cute.

Camping outside Grace’s door worked that one night. She slept very well. And the next day she napped. Every night since has been an ever-accelerating downward spiral.

We have tried everything. Please don’t suggest anything more unless it’s totally NOT obvious because I assure you we’ve done all the obvious, and then some.

I came to the conclusion that she was milking it. She would SCREEEEAM, I’d rush into her room, hug her, and say, “Mama’s here!” and realize that she was completely unsad. No tears, no hiccupping breaths. Just happiness at my presence.

Flattering as that is, I need my sleep. I don’t doubt that this started out legitimately–bad dream, scary shadow, a day or two of insecurity. But she’s been showered with attention and affection all day, every day, and all night, every night, and it’s only gotten worse.

So last night we didn’t put the couch cushion in the hall. We didn’t leave her door cracked open. We shut our door and turned up the fans.

And she fell asleep within an hour. She woke up a few times, but always went back to sleep.

I have a feeling this will take a few days, but I think it will work out.

It may be a deep character defect that I turn into a raging monster after several days of little sleep, but that’s not going to change anytime soon, however much I try to keep my patience. Either The Child continues to keep us up all night, and I end up in the loony bin (or hurting her), or she has a few miserable nights, and we both end up much happier in the end.

The last no-sleep episode lasted so long that I still harbor faint resentment toward her on bad days (yes, I DO know how ridiculous this is, especially since I did the same to my parents when I was a baby). We’re not going through that again.

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