Cry It Out

In need of mascara, and sleep

The fridge is so loud today, and my hair feels unusually heavy.
I didn't sleep last night, or the night before, and not too much the night before that. Baby George decides to wake up around 10:30 pm, and cry till I lay with him, and then squirms, flops around; sporadically kicking legs and flailing arms, physically conveying any feelings of discomfort or stress.
I tried to make him cry it out, but listening to him cry for 20 minutes is sad, and makes me feel awful. I give in after a couple minutes, and then kick myself all night long as I lay awake. He needs to cry through it one time, and it will put us all back on track.
My eyes are starting to look like they're being eaten by my skull. They mutely fluttered at me, requesting mascara. Five coats of mascara, in combination with 5 cups of coffee, gave me the zest to take the day head on.
We started by cleaning the house and went to the mall for carousel rides, Panda Express and an hour in the battlefield known as the kids' play area. The kids' play area is a great place to talk on the phone while watching your kids run amuck. It is also a great place to get pink eye, bronchitis and athlete's foot.
Parents who aren't on their phones sit on the foamy bench with self righteousness shooting from their watchful eyes. If there weren't so many fucking weirdos at the mall, I would be tempted to take a nap. Surely, some creep would try to lure children from this site of innocence by dangling a Cinnabon at the exit.
I used a similar technique to get my kids to stop running around and coax them to leave.  After a couple unanswered requests for them to come over to me, I shouted,"Lets get ice cream on the way to the car!" As if they were cured from deafness, they stopped running, lined up behind me like good little ducklings, and followed me through the exit.
We spent the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons and making dinner.
After putting George to sleep I laid with Kingsley, and read to her. The faucet in the bath tub drips, and the sound of each drop echoes while I narrate Charlotte's Web in my soothing, night time radio Delila voice.
Kingsley drifts off to sleep, and I tiptoe out of her room and go shut the bathroom door, silencing the annoying dripping faucet.
I lay in bed thinking of a line from Charlotte's Web. BeforeWilbur is told his fate, and Charlotte vows to save him, he is babied by Fern, who pushes him around in a stroller and feeds him milk by a bottle. After Fern tucks Wilbur in the stroller and he drifts off to sleep it says, "Every day was a happy day, and every night was peaceful."
Is the peaceful night a result of the happy day, or the happy day the result of a peaceful night.
Hopefully, tonight will be peaceful because even though we didn't enjoy the night before, we still had a very happy day. I'm just following the chain of events.
Either way, George is going to cry it out. I really mean it this time. Our happiness and peacefulness is depending on it.