A blog is worth a thousand pictures

I like to think of my blog as a verbal photo. It's just a snapshot of the parts of my life worth remembering. The funny moments. The sweet things my kiddo says. Revelations I have in the middle of the night. Even a place to vent, whine, or complain. But it's certainly *not* a real representation of our lives. Not even close.

Recently, I've been struggling. Daniel hasn't been sleeping well which, of course, means I haven't been sleeping well. I start my mornings off angry with him. He's been a good sleeper his entire life and is suddenly getting out of bed 3-4 times a night "to go potty." I wake up grumpy, but I'm soon revitalized by funny faces, a cooing baby, and my two cups of coffee. We usually head to the Y, and after a quick workout, I spend 10-15 minutes in prayer. I beg God - beeeeg God - to make me the mother He wants me to be. I beg for patience. I beg for Him to let me see my kids the way He sees them (by "kids" and "them," I mean Daniel - Lia doesn't do anything. . . yet). I tell Him that I *know* these strong-willed characteristics that Daniel displays are going to serve him well one day and may even serve Him well one day. Right now? They're pushing me to the brink.

I usually come out of the chapel feeling refreshed and ready to face the world (and anything Daniel can dish out at me). My mediation usually carries me through lunch and even into the early afternoon. But around "nap" time, something gives. While Daniel should be napping, he's in his room doing anything but. Knocking on the walls (which, of course, keeps Lia from sleeping), gagging himself on his blanket (to the point of vomiting in his bed), even tearing pages out of his Bible (which, incidentally, nearly sent me over the edge). I lose my patience. I yell. I threaten. I deliver. I feel guilty. And I don't know how to fix it.

***Just an fyi to anyone reading this, I think if I get this down on paper, I'll find a solution. I guess this is the written equivalent of thinking out loud.***

Maybe if I spent Daniel's "quiet" time on my knees the afternoons would go better. But I'm just so darned tired (because he's keeping me up at night) that I inevitably drift off while Lia naps. At least I'm rested, but I don't have the grace I need to carry me through the hardest hours of my day. Where do I find it? Perhaps with the cooler temps, we'll try an after-nap walk. Maybe if I can get out in the world and take a few deep breaths, the hardest part of the day will seem a little easier to face.

In the meantime, I'll just keep praying, keep breathing, and keep remembering that he'll only be little for a little while. One day, I'll wake up and he'll be grown. I'll long for these days, when my baby needed me and I ruled the roost. I hope that I look back on these days with fondness (not frustration) and maybe my blog will be worth a thousand pictures, even if it's a snippet of my frustration that's frozen in time.