Just another typical night. Plus weaning.

I may look innocent, but inside I am calculating just the right time to cry in order to get the most "mommy guilt" return on my investment

Last night was rough.  Gobbles knows what he wants, when he wants it, and how to get it.  This little man has more power over me than anyone ever has in my life.  Well except maybe Donnie Wahlberg.  Such power that he had me in hysterics a few hours before I was headed out to sign the contract for my new job.  Questioning everything.

It was hubs "turn" last night, to deal with the baby in every which way but feeding, as the nighttime feedings, though rare, still fall on me.  Gobbles went to sleep pretty easily last night, and I should have known it was too good to be true.  He hadn't quite finished his "half breastmilk / half formula" bottles at daycare yesterday, and coming off of the first weekend with boobie only twice a day, he was aching for a little more. 

Cue the midnight screaming.  I mean wailing.  Hubs finally got out of bed, after making sure of course that I was awake to the point of worry, and went in to take care of the baby.  Clean diaper, hugs and kisses from Daddy, paci replacement.  More crying.  I sat up in bed and rolled my shirt, knowing what was coming... Sweets, I think he's hungry. 

Of course.  Strangely enough, this only happens on his nights.  I fed Gobbles for a few minutes and he pulled off, satisfied. (He has become a little champ - can clear a boob in under 5 minutes now).  I gave him a hug and a kiss, and handed him back to hubs to go back to his crib.  Being that it was only midnight, it wasn't close enough to morning for us to bring him into the bed, we've been trying to hold that off until at least 4am.

As I was handing him back, the hysteria began.  Our child was inconsolable as my husband left the room with him in his arms.  It took all of about 5 seconds for me to realize what I'd done.  The poor kid just wanted to hang out with his Momma after spending the majority of his waking day at daycare.  Overwhelmed by guilt, I started crying hysterically too.  I ran into the nursery to get him, pulled him from husbands arms, and held him close to me.  The baby's sobbing quickly stopped, only making my tears come harder. 

Hubs was now thoroughly confused, and seemingly more concerned to make sure all my "helping" wasn't going to negate the fact that this was "his" night and I'd still be on baby duty tomorrow.  I tried to explain what was wrong, how I felt, and what I assumed Gobbles was thinking about only getting his boobie twice a day now.  Poor kid doesn't know why.  Hubs, being that ever so sympathetic and sensitive man that I married, told me Babies cry.  That's what they do.  I began to question everything again, working mom verses stay at home, if it's going to ruin the baby to have him sleep in our bed yet again.  Hubs drifted off to sleep somewhere during me chattering on, sick of the same conversation that I always have.  Gobbles hugged my neck, gave me his "kisses", and babbled back to me, which of course swept away any fear or anxiety that had come over me.  I set up his boppy "nest" between our pillows and we too finally fell asleep. 

The emotional shift I am experiencing combined with the difference in physical closeness that Gobbles is going through is making this more difficult than I had pictured.  I would have thought it was all just a horrible dream if not for waking up to an Ahhh- aaaahhhh! in my ear, *slapslapslap* on my hand, and wide-eyed gummy grin I saw when I finally opened my eyes this morning.

As the alarm went off, I heard my husband redeem himself with just one sentence.  He said to our son,  It's a good thing you're cute buddy, otherwise I don't know if you'd be able to get away with this.  Look at all you put your mommy through. 

And with that, we're back on the same page.  At least until tonight's bedtime battle.