This weekend my mom and I took Ramona on a road trip to see my grandparents.
It was lovely. She was sweet and it made up for the fact that we hadn't been there since Thanksgiving. (Not really, but better late than never.)
Ramona is a pretty good sleeper. Not the best, but not the worst. She has to be left to fuss a bit sometimes, but she usually finds a way to make it happen. All of this goes out the window when we leave town.
Last night was no exception, and quite honestly, it was The Hardest Night Ever. As the mother of an almost one year old, I have become spoiled. Gone are the nights of wondering if you will be lucky enough to sleep. For the most part, she goes to bed like cake and sleeps all night. If all else fails, I can always just give up and let her cry. She's old enough to know that I'm really devoted to her, but sometimes Mom just isn't going to take it anymore.
But I just don't have the nerves or conviction to take this approach when I'm away from our home. So last night I struggled to get her to sleep. I swear, it took hours. At one point she was actually jumping on the bed. I called her dad so he could talk some sense into her. Now it seems funny, but at the time it felt so dire. When your child won't sleep, it feels like they may never sleep again. You make declarations in your head like, "We are never coming back" and "I will NEVER have a second child".
After she finally gave in, I still kept an all night vigil. Last night every little whimper and cough woke me up. I was relived when the night was over and I could give up the pretense of sleep.
I called last night The Hardest Night Ever, but I know better. I really do. We have hard days and hard nights all the time. We move on from them, we give up the pretense. We move on and sleepily enjoy the day. It's lovely. It really is.