(I know, I know, another Kurt Halsey, but I just really love his work.)

Today is a historically yucky day for me. I've had a harder time than usual this year, I'm going to blame it on a mix of hormones and marriage stress.

7 years ago today was the worst day of my life. I was 16 years old. I was concerned primarily with boys, music, summertime, and my best girl friends. I spent most of my time online, at church, or hanging out with my little sister. Life was definitely good.

On June 27, 2001, I was raped. The investigation and many examinations that followed were possibly even more damaging than the attack itself, proving to me only that things were never as they seemed. My trust shattered, my body mangled, and my soul torn apart, I slept for the rest of the summer.

When I was told that I was most likely unable to have children, due to an infection of the uterus I (probably) contracted at the hospital following the attack, I realized something I never even knew I wanted was taken from me that night. It was the hardest thing I'd ever faced. I had always said I didn't want to have kids, that it just wasn't for me, but faced with the fact that it might not ever be an option was more than I could even process. It was too soon to tell for sure, they said, and that was that.

The boys that attacked me live and work in my town, they have families and jobs, normal lives, and I'm positive that this day means nothing to them. This day means so much to me, though...

As I stand next to my daughter's crib and watch her sleep I think about how lucky I am to have her. There's nothing like watching her there, peaceful as can be, with her beautiful brown hair and her dirty little fingernails... she's a tiny miracle, something that was absolutely supposed to happen. She came into my life when she wasn't supposed to even be a possibility, and she's a constant reminder that I'm so much stronger than even I give myself credit for.

Its a hard day, and I have come to accept that over the years, but its also such an important day, one that, in a lot of ways, shaped who I am today. Its taught me so many important lessons, and its given me an amazing sense of appreciation I'm not sure I'd find otherwise. In a way I'm thankful for this experience, for reminding me that every second of being Marti Pearl's mom is so precious.

I've never been big on new years resolutions, but this year I made a huge one. I've always said that resolutions are made to be broken, so who knows how long I'll stick with it, but this year, I'm going to have sex with my husband every day.

Every... day.

I read this article in Glamour and was inspired... and while I really hope our ultimate outcome isn't another pregnancy (yikes!) I do hope we rediscover each other and grow close again.

Its January 4th and I've already questioned my resolve, but we've gotten into a rut I'm determined to get us out of. Every night we do the whole "sleep or sex?" thing... and honestly, sleep usually wins. We're parents... and even though Bean sleeps like a champ for the most part, its still nice to get a good 8 hours in!

Sex is important, though. In fact, I just don't think we've put enough emphasis on it so far. We went from being newlyweds to having Bean and we're putting all of our energy into taking care of her, instead of ourselves. Its a mistake all parents make, I'd like to think.

So I've resolved to have sex with my husband every day... to put away whatever arguments or frustrations we dealt with throughout the day, to give up my worries about the house, the bills, and the baby for just a little while. Honestly, I've slept better in the past four days than I have in months! And even more interesting is that my house is cleaner, and he's spending more time playing with Bean and hanging out with me.

I know it may sound crazy, but having sex with my husband may be improving my marriage. Who would've thought!?

Yep, I'm one of those moms. My baby cries, in her own crib, in her very own bedroom, just about every night now... even some days. No, that doesn't make me a terrible parent, and I promise she's still a cool kid full of happiness and rainbows. So much so, we've decided, she's just not interested in sleep. You see, when you're so absolutely fascinated with everything around you, sleep just doesn't sound like much fun.

There have been a few sleepless nights where in sore-boobed desperation I've asked her why she won't just go to sleep. That's when she looks at me with those big baby eyes saying "I can crawl, eat big people food, and I have teeth! Would you want to sleep through any of that?" and I understand it, I really do... I remember college... well, some of it. So I had to make a choice.... do I let her decide when she goes to bed, even if that means we're all up until 3 a.m. or do I start getting her used to going to bed on her own... putting herself to sleep...

It seemed so wrong- I work all day to try to keep her happy, why would I want to put her in bed with the purpose of letting her cry? She's always been one of those happy breastfed babies that has always gone straight to sleep as soon as you stick a boob in her mouth. When her pediatrician (baby-god) mentioned that she needed to start "soothing herself to sleep" even if it meant she cried for a while, our only question was "but how do we keep her awake long enough!?"
Now we know.
Lately she's either resisted the whole time by kicking or flailing, or she'll wake herself up the second her little tushy hits the crib mattress. I'm sure there's got to be something in the world that's more frustrating than that, but I sure can't think of anything.

So we started putting her down, letting her cry, and eventually she goes to sleep. I go in, make sure she's comfy and dry, cover her up, and she eventually falls asleep and sleeps all night. In the morning, she's my happy little bean again. Last night brought back memories of the Mad About You episode where Paul and Jamie sat outside the baby's room for hours listening to her cry... and by the end, the baby's asleep and they decide they've broken her heart. I watched that episode the weekend before I went into labor and swore up and down I'd never let my child cry herself to sleep... but I do, and I don't feel like her little heart is breaking... mine does, but hers seems just fine.

As husband-pants and I were sitting in the bathtub (our big people retreat, after baby goes to bed) talking about matters unrelated to bean, I started thinking about how badly I've neglected my good friends... two, in particular, and how much I needed some time to myself. I've been justifying not taking a break for months now by saying that since I breastfeed bean and she refuses to take a bottle that it'd be hard for me to leave her with husband-pants at night. Now, though, I'm not solely responsible for getting her to sleep. I make sure she's fed, but the rest can be easily done by anyone else... that is awesome.

I never thought that I'd be able to share the responsibility of bedtime with anyone else in the way that I'm able to now, at least until after bean was weaned... I'm thrilled with it, really. Bedtime used to be my time... After I fed her I'd watch her sleep for a while before I laid her down. I had a certain way I covered her up every night, a routine... and that's different now, but I'm ok with it. Husband-pants feels more involved, bean gets better sleep, and I get a little time to myself. This weekend I plan to go out with my friends and recharge... every mom needs a break, and I'm well overdue. I'm excited about getting out and having no worries about bean girl for a little while, because I know she's fed, and husband-pants can handle the rest, and there's something so absolutely liberating about that.

Now that Bean has discovered how much fun it is to pull herself up on everything (furniture, boxes, pets, dads laying on the floor, etc...) she has decided sleep, albiet necessary and rather wonderful, is for chumps. In fact, she's refusing to do it. Ever.

Man, these milestones are killing me. I'm going to need some eye cream and amphetamines if I'm going to make it through teething/walking/talking. Sheesh.

I know its all my fault too, for being one of those smug moms who gets tons of sleep and thinks she knows the secret. There is no secret. There is only karma. I have definitely learned my lesson.

*Yawn*