Seraphina is screaming like a banshee again. Sadly, this isn’t a new thing.

Bedtime at our house is a battle of wills (and patience) with our 2 year old, and there are so many nights I just want to throw my hands in the air and be like

but that would get us nowhere. Some nights are easier than others, but in the end it comes down to who is more stubborn.

Since I waited 6 years between my children, my memory is hazy on whether Persephone was just as unruly at this age.

One thing I’m clear about, however, is that Persephone didn’t shriek like Seraphina. Seriously, if imitating someone being flayed alive was an Olympic sport, Seraphina would bring home the gold.

Don’t believe me? We can’t have our windows open at night anymore because the police came once – after they heard her screaming at decibels children shouldn’t be able to reach.

We weren’t reported (thank God), but that quickly became the turning point: we need to come up with a night time routine that doesn’t involve the local authorities.

I’m guilty of indulging in co-sleeping with my children. Since I don’t see them most of the day, I take my snuggles where I can get it, which is partially why we’re in this pickle to begin with.

Seraphina sleeping
If only every night was like this

Some nights, after Thomas and I have had long and stressful days, it’s just easier to have her fall asleep in our bed and move her.

Other nights, we have to sit on her couch in her room until she falls asleep in her toddler bed. Not to mention the nights you have to “sleep” on her floor so she’ll go to sleep as well.

There are so many nights I just feel like I’m drowning. I can’t even make sense of it anymore: is this a phase? Should I just let her cry? What if she hurts herself trying to hurl herself over the baby gate? WHAT IF SHE DOESN’T STOP SCREAMING?!

And just when I feel like the dark is closing in…a miracle.

Some nights, when the stars are aligned, and I’ve made a sacrifice that pleases the Gods (kidding) Sera throws us a bone and goes to bed without fighting, without screaming, without tears and tantrums and hours of waiting for her to JUST CLOSE HER EYES ALREADY.

On those nights, those glorious, magical nights, I feel like I’m safe in my life preserver – or like Jack helped me aboard that wooden plank after the Titanic sank (spoiler alert).

In the end, those nights can sometimes be worse, because they are a glimpse into what we haven’t yet achieved, which makes it all the more painful when the following night brings us back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Here’s hoping that, like so many things, this sleepless shriek-fest is just an awful phase that too shall pass.

Until next time: good night, Night Vale. Good night.