Gone, Gone, Gone.

The honeymoon is over. Gone are the nights when Ev respected bedtime. Gone are the nights when a sippy cup of milk and Pooh Bear were enough to pacify him right to sleep. Gone are the nights when I had patience. I miss it, a crap ton. I'm so tired of getting frustrated. I hate the drama, having to raise my voice, and then feeling so guilty afterwards. I'm finding it more and more difficult to find balance between enforcing rules, and fighting a battle just to fight it. Rewards and consequences are mediocre. I need something more powerful than that, like a sedation dart that they use on lions & elephants at the zoo.

I welcome your advice, books to read, the power of prayer for patience and understanding on my part. I need a bedtime intervention and possibly bottle of wine (& cheese + crackers, please).

Our latest routine: Ev goes to sleep in his own bed. He cries. He moans. He sniffles. He repeats. FOR AN HOUR. Seconds before I pull out my hair, I ask Ev if he would like to sleep in the big bed. He responds with the squeekiest and most pathetic, "uh huh". Within 10 minutes, Ev falls asleep. Starting out in the big bed only prolongs the bedtime ritual.