Holly Ramsey: Here we go again

As I wrote last month of battling my first trimester of pregnancy, this thrice-knocked-up mom of two is now happy to report that, at 12 weeks along, side effects are beginning to subside and life is returning slowly but surely. The pity party is over (or at least, that's the vibe I'm getting from family members) and it's now time to begin planning and organizing. I've made a mental to-do list with high hopes of finishing it way before my due date, and plan to enjoy a little of what summer has to offer.

Little did I realize, another battle was brewing.

First on my list was moving my 3-year-old daughter to her own bed, in her own room, once and for all. That way I could make room for the next little sleep depriver, who is scheduled to appear in mid-September. I started prepping her mentally a few weeks ago, with encouraging words … and a few bribes.
Example: "If you sleep in your big girl bed tonight, Mommy will be so proud of you!"

This, of course, is not my style nor does it EVER work. My bribes were more along the lines of, "If you sleep in your bed tonight, Mommy will take you to McDonald's tomorrow for an extra special, artery-clogging lunch!"

What the heck, I was willing to risk it for a good night's rest and, besides, my Mother of the Year award nomination didn't come through as planned this season … yet again.

Unfortunately, this approach had little effect on our "honest" angel, who apparently no longer believes in taking such offensive bribes.

A friend of mine, who will remain nameless for safety reasons, sometimes refers to devious little kids as "shepherds for the devil." The first time I heard this, having been a mother of only one at the time, I thought this to be harsh and untrue. I now find myself using these same words to describe my own two hoodlums and a few of those around me. It has become one of my all-time favorite phrases.
The final outcome of this battle has resulted in my 3-year-old sleeping on a blow-up mattress (Disney Princess-style) butted up against my bed. What can I say? She negotiated, I caved. It makes a terrible racket throughout the night, but at least I don't have to wake up dangling from the edge of the bed with a gnarled finger stuck in my hair and a foot draped over my shoulder. Oh yeah, and I got my old roommate back, the man I married, who was sleeping anywhere he could find a spot. I think his manhood was being chipped away by the fact that he was alternating between waking up in a pink-painted room filled with baby dolls and magic fairy wands, and the couch in our living room.

There have, however, been a few repercussions from the switch. My daughter is now waking up twice a night for pee breaks. I too have been doing this (just another lovely side effect of pregnancy), which brings our nightly grand total of potty breaks to four. She is also now ready to begin her day at 5:30 a.m. rather than 7:30 a.m. Could I, in this traumatizing transition, have somehow damaged her bladder and offset the balance of her internal clock? Only time (or a therapist) will tell.
Last but not least, let's not forget the cries of injustice from my 8-year-old, who wants to know why she has to sleep on the other end of the house while the rest of us are all "cozy" in my room.

"Because sweetheart, we love her more than you. And when the new baby comes, we will love it more than you too." I don't know what it is, nurturing just comes so naturally to me.

Good thing she's just like her mother and quickly catches on to sarcasm … and has also learned to use this tool against me. She too, was once my on-again-off-again roommate for the first five years of her life and was booted out when baby No. 2 came along. This means that technically, I've not had a good night's rest in over eight years, and don't see a break for a long, long while.