The Poo is making me crazy right now.

It is as if she finally realized that her baby brother is a permanent fixture, and her jealousy has been out of control. She gets my attention in any way she can, chattering incessantly, asking ridiculous questions that have no answers, looming over Shaggy and attacking him with non-too-gentle head-pats and kisses while he’s eating or trying to rest.

There is a tinge of violence in her love lately.

I remember the early days of her infancy, when I was a prisoner to her whims, subject to a tiny, tyrannical, screaming warden who demanded to be held at all times. She fell asleep beautifully; it was only when you put her down that she woke, wailing.

Pick her up again and you were blessed with silence.

It was hellish.

Shaggy is less demanding in some ways, and more so in others. But this week a switch flipped, and he’s eating and sleeping on a more regular schedule. He learned to suck his thumb for comfort—a habit sure to plague me in the coming years—but he is putting himself to sleep in his crib at night and taking regular naps.

But The Poo … oh, The Poo.

She still refuses to fall asleep on her own, and so bedtime is a delicate dance requiring multiple partners. When we’re at home it’s easy; one of us handles the baby and the other handles the big girl.

And I know perfectly well it’s time to break her of this habit. I simply don’t have the mental reserves for it until Shaggy sleeps through the night consistently.

We’re away from home, Mr. C is in Chambana, and I am juggling these two needy humans while trying to avoid asking my mom for help.

Last night The Poo was particularly difficult. She’d irritated her grandmother earlier in the day, she bugged her cousin and she generally acted crazy all day long. She got to bed late, and by 9 p.m. I was done with a capital D. I lay with her, listening to Shaggy cry in the next room.

Every single time I moved, she rolled over and put part of her body on mine, checking to see I was still next to her. She talked and talked and talked and the boy fussed louder and louder … and I finally got up and yelled at her.

“You HAVE TO GO TO SLEEP!” I said, through gritted teeth. “YOUR BROTHER IS HUNGRY, GO TO SLEEP!”

I stormed out of the room and got the baby. After 10 more minutes of bouncing him on my lap while sitting on the edge of the bed, I stood up.

“Poo, I have to go. You have to go to sleep on your own!” I was almost in tears.

She cried, I cried, Shaggy cried – there were slammed doors and recriminations and hurt feelings. Finally, my mom came upstairs and offered to sit with her. I handed her the baby instead, and led the girl back to bed.

“I have tears on my face, mama!” she sobbed, while I held her close. Gently, I wiped her face dry with the hem of my shirt and shushed her.

When she was calm, I spoke.

“Baby girl, my baby girl,” I said, smoothing her sweaty curls from her head. “Mama loves you. But Shaggy is a baby and sometimes he can’t wait. You have to learn to do some of these things on your own.”

“OK, Mama, I’m sorry, Mama,” she replied, eyes closing at last. “Mama, I miss my daddy. I wish I could hug and kiss my daddy.”

She sighed, snuggled closer and fell asleep.

I held her awhile, knowing my mom had my son downstairs. I took the time to really look at her. She felt huge in my arms, long legs and awkward elbows. She’s growing up in so many ways.

I imagine this is such a hard time for her right now. She’s testing her boundaries in a developmentally healthy way, and she’s also struggling with the notion of sharing me.

I’ve been so frustrated with her that I’ve wished this time away. Selfishly, I’ve wished for Shaggy to out-grow his babyhood and for my first baby to enter girlhood with more grace. I’ve been angry at them both for sucking me dry, so much so that by the end of the day I am an empty husk of a woman.

Last night, I let myself cry into my first-born’s hair as I took in every angle of her beautiful little body, seeing her so clearly for the first time in so many weeks. I see she is still my baby, that the ghost of that needy little infant is still there.

So I held her tight against me, simultaneously wishing for both the past and the future.

Tonight she is having a sleep-over at her beloved cousins’ house, and bedtime was a cinch.

But you know what? I’m wishing that she was here right now next to me, her head on my shoulder and her breathing heavy with sleep, filling my arms and my heart with her love.

Almost all grown up