If someone could answer that question for me, I’d be grateful to know when the light will be showing at the end of this long and torturous tunnel.

You see, my beautiful, outgoing, mile-a-minute 2 1/2 year old still does not sleep through the night.

Well, Glinda, that’s fairly normal for her age, you say.  It’s a myth that all toddlers sleep through the night.

You would be right.

However, do most toddlers stay up for HOURS?  When I say hours, I mean that last night she was up from 3am to 4:30am and the night before she was up from 12:30am to 3:30am.  This goes on for usually three to four days a week.

She used to spend most of this time screeching, but she’s gotten a little bit better.  We used to think that it was teething pain, but that is no longer the case as she now has all the teeth she is going to have for a while.  We will give her some water, maybe change her diaper, and we certainly don’t sit there and entertain her. However, she has a horrific time going back to sleep, even though she initially falls asleep fairly quickly.

We co-sleep with her, but have also tried leaving her alone, which hasn’t worked very successfully.  And truly, we just can’t take it anymore.  It is impossible for me to predict if she will nap or what time she should go to bed from day to day, which drives this routine-loving mom crazy.

We tried speaking to our pediatrician about the issue, but he blew us off and said it was probably just teething.

My tired husband (who has to get up at 5am for work) and I, who usually have to take shifts during her awake periods, are at the end of our rope.  We talk daily about leaving the kids with some water and crackers and checking ourselves into a hotel.  Uh, jokingly, of course.  As if! As if I would think of doing that.  For more than five minutes.

I never knew how wonderful a sleeper my son was until my daughter came along.  He was sleeping all night from 9 months on, and can still sleep through almost anything.

Any advice?  Because I will admit that I am far from a perfect parent.

Now I don’t know about anyone else, but I sure as hell would not be laughing at a lioness attempting to eat my offspring. She isn’t being “cute” or “funny,” she is literally trying to attack that baby. It doesn’t make me giggle, it makes me want to run far, far away from that enclosure.

So there is this little tumblr creatively entitled Walk.

The entire premise of the blog is to show “how funny big kids look in little strollers.” Or at least that is what the (childless, natch) authors claimed when called out on Jezebel for being ah, a bit judgemental about parents who choose to place “big” kids in strollers.

I’m calling foul on this for a couple of reasons.

1) Don’t care if you are childless and having fun, somewhere there is a commandment that says “Judge not, lest ye find yourselves walking miles at Disneyland in their Nikes.”  Or something like that.

2) Did we mention that many of these pictures were taken at Disneyland?  Dude, when it comes to kids and walking around ALL BETS ARE OFF AT ANY DISNEY PROPERTY.  Period.

3) There are kids who look a lot older than they are.  Take my friend’s five year old daughter.  She is almost as tall as my eight year old, and often has people expecting her to act a certain way based solely on her height.  There’s also a commandment relating to books and covers.

4) The authors claim that they carefully “screen” their victims candidates for disabilties, by you, know, looking at them. Because we all know how easy it is to recognize a disability just by looking at someone.

I think what saddens me the most is that they have over a thousand likes on Facebook. 

Hide behind the all in good fun excuse all you like, but I think this is just plain mean.

Because lord knows I’ve got a toddler of my own and I’m well aware of how easy it is to be distracted for a second, but really?  I know this story is a teensy bit old, but I can’t help myself.

When I’m watching the Munchkinette at home, I’m way more relaxed about it than when we are out in public.  I am well aware of danger zones and things she can get into. But when we are somewhere else,  I put hawks to shame.  She doesn’t take a step without me right behind her.

So, I’m thinking that if my toddler is at someone’s place of work, where there are a million things she could get into, not to mention an open TIME-LOCKED SAFE, I would tend to be a little more watchful than normal.

I’m not trying to minimize the obvious distress caused to the toddler and her mom, but for this mother, I’m going to advocate the use of a leash.

And if this family gets money for exclusive story rights or a made-for-television movie, then I will know for sure there is no justice in this world.

Here come the fine folks at the University of Minnesota to reassure us moms that yes, we have the ability to screw up our children, and good.

Among other things found in the Minnesota Longitudinal Study of Risk and Adaptation, researchers found that:

The strength of the bond you formed with Mom during the first two years of life strongly affects how efficiently you and your partner will move beyond a fight and join forces to accomplish mutual goals.

Those people who had formed a strong bond with their mothers were better able to resolve conflicts with their partners, and those who were not as fortunate tended to not play nice in a fight. 

Not all is lost for those who didn’t resolve conflicts as quickly.  The study found that if they had a partner who was able to “get over it” quickly, then the relationship fared better.

But wait, couldn’t that be said of any relationship?   If your partner doesn’t really care, I  would think it would be easy to move on from conflict no matter how much you hate your Mom. Jebus.

I swear, every psychiatrist should have a plaque in their office saying, “Thanks, Mom!”

Don’t you think?

I’m only telling you this because we are such good friends.   And also because if you think Child Services should be called, you don’t know where I live.

I was on the phone with my mother when I noticed the Munchkinette sidling up to the front of the Christmas tree.  Now this puts her between the tree and the middle front window, so between being on the phone and a dicey sightline, I don’t see what happens next.  Until, of course, it’s too late.

And what happens next is that I see her proudly holding a glass Christmas ornament in her little hand.

I give out yell because I’m thinking she’s going to drop it. I begin running toward her.  Er, well, probably lurching is a better term for it.

She does me one better.

In one of those slo-mo effects in the movies, I watch as she crushes the ornament in her hand.

At this point, I let out a full blown scream because I’m envisioning myself in the ER with her thrashing around as they stitch up the million cuts in her hand.  Also, I’m a little pissed because it’s one of the intricate ones handed down to me from the 1950′s and I’m wondering why she couldn’t have chosen a regular old ball.

So I’m continuing the lurch and watching what seems like hundreds of little glass pieces scatter around her, which I finally crunch through and grab her.

I frantically seize her tiny hand, fully expecting shards to be stuck in it and blood dripping down her arm.

Nothing.  Not a scratch.

No aftermath of any kind except for me losing a very cool ornament and having to thoroughly vacuum. 

We’re thinking of having her pick out our lottery numbers.

I might be the only one, but watching babies speak with adult voices creeps me out.

I didn’t like it so much in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” which was the first time I remember seeing the concept. But at least it was understandable as a plot device, and it was an animated baby, which made it a bit easier to swallow. And maybe because it was just an awesome movie in general.

The E*Trade commercials are the ones that really freak me out, because it is a real baby with a (poorly) CGI’d mouth, and some snarky, slacker-sounding dude doing the voice. The dissonance is what is supposed to get your attention, but it makes me actively loathe them in a manner that just isn’t seemly.

The jury, however, is out on this one. I find it strangely compelling, but it certainly doesn’t make me want to buy Evian.

Actually in watching that again, I think the scariest part is the French voice at the end, which sounds like a parched, chain-smoking adolescent. Which come to think of it, makes me think of drinking water. So touche, Evian, touche.