Paranoia

You see that handsome booger? That is my nephew, Brantley. He is an absolute doll and I had the joy of watching him yesterday and today. He is a great baby. He entertains himself, only cries when he needs something, he is very happy and smiley, he is fairly clean, he doesn’t want to be held all the time, he goes to sleep by himself and, at seven months old, he sleeps through the night. AWESOME kid. He is! But I am so paranoid. It is a major downfall.

So last night, after a very long eventful day at the beach, I put Brantley down to sleep at 11. And he went right to sleep. No whining, no crying, no nothing. Not a peep. Every parent’s, or in this case babysitter’s, dream. Brantley got a full night’s sleep…and I. Got. None. Seriously. I couldn’t sleep, because I was too worried about my precious nephew either waking up screaming and me sleeping through it, or him getting SIDS. Which is absolutely horrific to think about and I know he is past the age of concern for that, but my paranoid brain just wouldn’t turn off. And I was so exhausted.

I mean…I have never known this kind of exhaustion. Not even when I helped my sister with him the first two weeks after he was born. Sleeping without getting rest is probably the worst feeling ever.

Luckily, I have an amazing mother who sent me to bed once Brantley was down for a nap, and I slept. And slept. It was so nice. I really need to get over this paranoia though. I always knew I was a bit of a worrier, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I guess I was wrong.

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