Earlier in the month, I wrote a post about how I wasn’t sure we were done having kids. After reflecting on it, last week I realized I had a serious case of singleton fantasies. Last night, Jon and I found a cure for that 1% doubt we are done with kids: a sick tantruming toddler.
My boys are almost 2 1/2. They went to bed with no objections at 7:30 then sang and chatted until 8:30. Around 9:15, right as Jon and I were settling down to watch the Heroes season premiere, Alex woke up crying. Despite soothing and motrin, he would not settle back to sleep. We got him up and hung out for an hour before deciding it would be best if we laid down with Alex in our room. He then proceeded to have a mega-tantrum that would not stop. He was so clearly overtired but every time he calmed down, within a minute he burst into another screaming fit. At 11:30, Jon put Alex in the car and drove him around until he fell asleep. Alex was complaining about his ear hurting, so Jon has him at the doctor this morning.
Last night was a repeat of almost every night of the newborn phase with twins. We spent hundreds of hours floundering with crying babies, trying to figure out what was wrong. And as difficult as the newborn phase was, last night was even more difficult because we knew exactly what Alex needed – sleep – yet we were unable to achieve that goal.
This pretty much clears up any baby lust I had. I don’t miss those days of little sleep and crying newborns. I’ll just depend on my friends with newborns to get my baby fix.