I hate to do this, especially with Christmas less than a week away, but I need to ask you for a few items. Before you start rolling your eyes, I promise that it is not one of those letters. Yes, it would be nice to find this lens or this lens under the tree on Christmas morning but my plea has nothing to do with expensive gifts.
You see, Santa, I have run out of patience. I just spent the weekend scraping the bottom of the barrel and I fear what will happen when that barrel turns up empty. Which is bound to happen any day now. I am exhausted, burnt out, frustrated, tired of everything being a mess, tired of everything really. I need a break and a real break is not possible.
I need sleep. On a consistent basis. And I suppose that we can blame the girls' sleep issues on me. Alright, let's just blame it on me so we can all stop analyzing the crap out of it. I had a baby die inside of me. I was given the responsibility of caring for an unborn baby and I messed up. Do you think I wanted to chance that again?
When we brought Allie and Em home from the hospital, I was terrified that they were going to die in their sleep. They were born at 35 weeks and 6 days and released from the hospital 4 days later. These two tiny babies were my responsibility and I didn't want to screw up again. At night, they slept in a Pack-n-Play at the foot of my bed. I would sleep with the lights on and jump awake to check on them with every sound. Some nights I slept curled up at the foot of my bed to be as close as possible to them.
What if they get caught up in their swaddled blankets? What if they spit up and choke? What if they roll into something and can't breathe? What if their body temperature drops?
That fear stays with me today. I still sneak into their rooms long after they have fallen asleep and adjust blankets, lovies and pillows. I can't control myself. Most nights, I don't get restful sleep because I'm on guard.
I've been snappy with everyone and I don't want to be snappy with everyone. My kids think that I am being mean to them, Santa. And I'm not just imagining that. Allie actually said that to me this weekend. She told me that I was being mean. Saturday morning, she was taking forever to pick out a pair of pajama bottoms, which she should have been wearing in the first place. After taking forever to pick out a pair, she then proceeded to take forever to put them on. I kept saying, "Hurry up, Allie. Come on, Allie, let's go. Let's get moving, Allie." Do you know what she said to me? She said, "Okay, you don't have to be mean to me."
I want some of my spirit back. What happened to my spirit? I want to be the same person I was after "the incident" with my brother. I want to be the person who didn't care that someone smashed her car windows and stole clothes and a camera because no one was hurt. Material items can be replaced. People cannot. Time cannot.
How did I turn into someone I don't want to be? How to do change back?
So please, Santa, if you have any patience, sleep dust for three year olds, breaks for full time working mothers of triplets or carefree spirits left, can you please deliver some to my house for Christmas. You don't even need to wrap anything.