The BEST way to wake up

Sometimes I get frustrated (mostly at myself) with the way Bailey sleeps ... or doesn't. She has never been a sound sleeper, and Tony and I have been suckers for going to comfort her instead of letting her "cry it out." (And we honestly gave "crying it out" a decent effort when she was teeny tiny, but after more than 2 hours of screaming each time we tried, we hung our heads and threw in the towel.)

So here's the pattern for her sleeping nowadays. She goes to bed between 9:30 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. (and no, earlier doesn't work for her). I lay down with her until she falls asleep, and if I don't pass out from complete exhaustion, I sneak away and get a few hours of blissful sleep in an adult-size bed.

If, by chance, I stay asleep in her room until her normal waking time between 2:00 a.m. and 3:00 a.m., I'm doomed. Say goodbye to any kind of solid sleep for myself. Hasta la vista. Adios. Not happenin'. How she knows I'm leaving the room when she seems to be sound asleep is beyond me, but if it's after this time of night before I can get myself up and out of the room, I'm done for.

So last night was a wonderful night of about 4 1/2 hours sleep in mine and Tony's bed before I hear her little footsteps coming around to my side of the bed (that right there should give an indication of how soundly I sleep, even in my own bed. Before Bailey, I could sleep through a tornado ripping the entire place apart).

Anyway, she came in to get me, and she doesn't cry or even say a word. She just stands there until I can drag myself out of there and follow her to her room. She crawls up in her bed, waits til I lay down, and wraps one of those sweet little arms around my neck until she falls back asleep.

Very rarely, after this middle-of-the-night interruption, I can get back to my bed for a couple more hours of sleep. Last night was not one of those nights. But it was all worth it a million times over with the way she woke up this morning.

I was already awake, and she sat up in bed, looked over at me, got the biggest grin on her face and leaned over to give me a kiss. Then she said "I love you, mommy." When she sat up, she said, "you know somethin'?" I said "what?" She said "I love you to the moon and back," all the while with a grin as big as she can manage.

And that, my friends, is what keeps me kicking through the rough days. When she is completely sweet to the core, it's like a balm to the bad days, making them seem less and less important. She wasn't trying to be sweet or funny to get out of trouble. There was no "mommy can I ... ?" or "mommy will you ... ?" attached to it. It was just pure and simple sweetness.

Absolutely worth everything.