Dear Ella,
Happy Birthday Love.
I can’t believe you’re three.
Wait, yes I can. I haven’t slept for three years.
For the last 1,095 nights I have been up and down, kicked and thrashed. I have been flooded with pee. I have run up and down the steps all hours of the night getting you bologna…peperoni’s….Kool-Aid….ANYTHING that might give me twenty more minutes of precious sleep.
Dazed, confused and waking up with dried pepperoni’s stuck to my head. You never gave in, all those nights, seeing me suffer.
Then I finally said to myself, “You know what, she may never sleep all night. She may never sleep in her own bed but at least I’ll know if she’s late for curfew when she comes home from a date…AND IT’S OK. IT DOESN’T MAKE ME A BAD MOTHER!”
I’ll give it to ya kid, you’ve got stamina.
A week after your third birthday, you decided I’d been punished enough. You slept all night in your own bed. 10 WHOLE HOURS.
Now that we know you can do it, if you don’t repeat it again tonight we’re gonna duct tape you to the bed.
Happy Birthday Chicken Little
Love,
Mom
