Day Dream and Night Terror

Day Dream: wakes up smiling, even when his sister has woken him up.

Night Terror:  Hits his wall and begins crying and rage babbling.

Day Dream: Eats solid foods for breakfast while laughing at his sister and Daddy.

Night Terror: stays asleep for a long stretch which starts at 6pm and ends when I'm juuuuuust fallllling asleeeeeeeeeeep.

Day Dream: plays independently in his playpen. Hits developmental milestones for gross motor.

Night Terror: "Is he STILL not sleeping through the night?" as if I have failed somehow even though my first born TOTALLY SLEPT.

Day Dream: Takes two solid naps a day. Can be put to bed awake and will play until he falls asleep.

Night Terror: 2:30 am. The moaning begins.

Day Dream: Can go to restaurants and loud shopping malls without incident. Smiles at older women, evoking sympathy and platitudes. "Enjoy him.  It goes so fast!"

Night Terror: 2:45. still crying. Daddy attempts to soothe.  JUST PISSES HIM OFF.

Day Dream: Feeds himself off his tray, sensually licking his fingers.  Is not picky like SOME PEOPLE I KNOW (Looking at you, husband and toddler). Avocados are allowed back into the house.

Night Terror: 3am. I go in. HE'S WICKED PISSED. WRITHES, SCREAMS, RIPS AT MY CLOTHES.

Day Dream: Laughs and plays while I read to his sister. Happy to observe her antics. Is forgiving of her when she loves him too fiercely.

Night Terror: Dying of starvation, he pulls at my shirt until I relent. 80th percentile baby is not actually needing to eat.  I hear the pediatrician's disappointed rebuke as I erase any sleep training with each let down.

Day Dream: Gives me open mouth kisses and squeals with delight as I sing to him and change him into his PJs.

Night Terror: Husband echos the pediatrician's mansplaining, that if only I were strong enough, I could sleep train this baby. But my feminine resolve is TOO WEAK.

Day Dream: Nurses and begins to drift into drowsiness. He complains a bit when I drop him off, but does not persist beyond when I shut the door.

Night Terror: Asleep in my arms, he does not want to let go.  Sweet, sweet baby, all he wants is me. His darling loneliness manipulates me into holding him just one more minute. I plop him down clumsily, drunk with sleep deprivation, and shuffle back to bed, flopping down on the mattress, willing myself to fall back into deep sleep because...

Only two more hours until the toddler wakes up...