The Standoff

Suddenly "The Rock" has started to waffle. What was once a fantastical sleeping boy is now turning into a very consistent nightmare. Granted he has been ailing with the Pink Eye I don't see that as a reason to wake me up in the mid-night.

He was crowing last eve at 10PM...I had just fallen into that nice REM sleep when I was jostled by his wails of "Moooommmmmyyyy!" Being that he has been piddle-filled in the previous nights I figured this was just another diaper debacle. When I got into the room and asked him what was wrong he just sat there. No claim of bad dreams or being scared. No need for food or drink. So I opted for the snuggle. This usually does the trick. A little rocker time and he is soon enough asking for his "Nap." So I went through the motions, laid him back down, returned to my quarters only to have him screaming 30 seconds later. I thought to give him a minute and perhaps it would stop...it didn't. Fearing that he would wake both the Hubba and the Princess from their sleep comas I ran back upstairs to comfort.

I opened the door and whined "Whaaat!?" This time he claimed hunger. He said "Sompin to eat?" Knowing that this kid kicks down as much food in the course of a day as I do I figured he meant business. The doc said that this pink eye non-sense makes them lose their appetites. This has been true...during the day. He eats what I like to call a "Snot Lunch." Disgusting but true. I guess since he is horizontal at night the snot doesn't quite make it down to his stomach and he is no longer satiated by mucosa. Bleh! Needless to say I brought in the buffet for the second night in a row. I spoon-fed him a cup of yogurt, left him a cup of water, rubbed his back with my severely-hand-sanitizer-chaffed hands and told him it was time for sleep. I further explained that everyone in the house was sleeping and his screaming was waking them up. I proceeded with the fact that it was nighttime and he needed to get good rest and be nice and quiet. All to which he sobbed "OOOO KKKKK." But I've come to find that negotiating with a not-quite 2-year-old is like reasoning with a Russian spy. They hear the words, ingest the message, agree to the terms but once that door is shut all bets are off and the old shenanigans start right back up. The only way to stop said shenanigans is to go back in there! Well, I wasn't back in bed for 2 minutes and he was wailing again! GRRR!

This time I was REALLY going to stick it out. I was not going to lose this standoff. He was just testing me. He wasn't wet, wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty and wasn't hurt. WTH? Then the howling got louder. I started envisioning a night like the previous where one kid was crying so loud it woke the other and I was caught doing The Bedroom Boogie. In one door, out the other, lather, rinse and repeat just trying to appease, calm and get back to bloody sleep. So I held out for another couple minutes until the screams hit a new octave. For a third time, I ran up the stairs. This time all he said was "Nugggle" and really, how does one disregard this?

So I picked him up and did just that. We sat in the chair and started rocking, however uncomfortable. At almost 3 feet in length (about half my body measure) and 30+ pounds he doesn't exactly fit, head on my shoulder, like he used to. His legs are all cramped and kicking me in my ever-full nighttime bladder and we are both pretty miserable. It feels kinda like a clown car. Or like when you put on last season's jeans and they are just a bit too tight. You want them to fit. You think they should fit...and they should...but they don't. You feel defeated but keep trying anyway, certain that this is just a case of drier shrinkage...you do squats, bend over, contort your body in any way just to make those bastards fit--but they still don't. We did this dance for a few minutes and then he finally bellowed "Turn around?" which means he wants to sit on my lap as though I am Santa Claus. I acquiesce his request and flip him to face forward, trying to get comfortable cuz we're gonna be here for awhile. Contorting my head to one side, allowing him to lean up against my chin with the back of his head, we settle in. We rocked for no less than 30 minutes at which point I decided enough was enough. I told him that I was going to bed, put him down and walked away...it is now 12:08AM.

Now all this is fine and good. But being that I had been up the stairs 3 times to answer his calls I was now certain that there would be a 4th. Why wouldn't there be? So I lay awake in bed with what can only be described as fine-tuned, ultra keen mom hearing--clearly the Hubba possesses none of this as he has slept through the whole endeavor. But suddenly I morph into Superman and can hear things miles away. I hear things that aren't even there. The whistle of my husband's nose somehow becomes a cry. The dog's snoring is a reason to jump. I am certain that the siren that is shrieking 15 miles from my ear-shot is the boy calling for me. The train chuggin down the tracks-you know the drill. It's ridiculous how instantly every little noise in a 17 mile radius is another call to duty. And this is when I finally kiss my good night's sleep goodbye. Even if I do get back to sleep it won't be restful. I'd rather lay awake with my neurosis waiting for the next sob...which, as Murphy would have it, never comes. Luckily Princess Happy Pants is up at 5 stomping like a gorilla and slamming every door in the upstairs region. Why on earth would I get to sleep in?

So today I embark on the 3rd day stuck in the house. 1 part pink eye, 1 part cold as balls outside (at present 5 below), 2 parts unfit to be amongst the living. I'm saying pleasant wishes for a nap when the kid decides to sleep off his all-nighter, knowing full-well that this is just a pipe dream. But that's OK. Getting to claim super hero powers and holding the key to kiddo contentment far surpasses any 8 hours I've ever slumbered! Happy Groundhog Day people! It can only get better from here!