Friday, September 26, 2014

Wild Nights

I really thought my days of waking up in strange places were long gone, but when I found myself blinking and disoriented in the still dark hours this morning, the bed hard and cool and wait, this is the floor--I realized that maybe I was just regressing...

I’ve been hearing a lot about this sleep regression thing, and it appears we’ve hit this little stage right square in the mouth. For the past couple of nights my son wakes up, rattles his cage--uh, crib, like a pint-sized gorilla and then calls out Mommy Mommy Mommy! with a sense of urgency usually reserved for boogymen and snack refills. And not that I'm counting, but I've noticed that there is only the occassional Daddy thrown in the mix. Like a 13:1 ratio.

Maybe because my wife brought him in to the bed the other night, where he settled in happily. And I am genuinely amazed at just how much of a queen size bed can a 30 inch kid can occupy. I was kicked in the ribs by little toddler feet until just about fifteen minutes before I have to get up for work. Of course by then he was sound asleep.

But everyone says not to go down this road, putting the kid in the bed. I really don’t see the harm in doing so occasionally but then again I also don’t see the harm in having Fruit Loops for dinner. So anyway, last night, we put him to bed—his bed, and everything was normal. He only got about two Mommy’s in before he was out cold, (or warm, he had a blanket). Then, without even a tiny morsel of shame, my wife and I climbed into bed just before nine.

I fell into a deep, wonderful sleep—until about11:06 pm, when Mommy Mommy Mommy cranked up like an overplayed Pharrell song that did not at all reflect how I felt at the moment.

We gave it a minute. By Mommy #58 I rolled over. By Mommy #88 I peeled off the covers. By Mommy #128, I cursed the stubbornness gene that this Mommy of his passed on to her child. Then, I grabbed a pillow and blanket and did what needed to be done. I camped out.

Lying on the floor, with only a knotty layer of sea grass between my ribs and the hardwood, I thought, well, this isn’t so bad. And it wasn’t. Until I woke at two am, my neck feeling like a cork screw. Then I slunk off for the memory foam.


He heard me, one measly creak of the planks and he sat up like my dog when he sees a squirrel. And then…. Mommy!

Mommy? Seriously kid? Not to be petty here but do you see who’s lying on the floor, camped out like it’s Black Friday or something?  

I fell back to my bed of sea grass, sticking a hand through the slats of my son's crib, comforting him until he fell into a deep, coma like sleep. In the other room I could hear the dog cutting logs and dreaming of squirrells from the plush confines of his dog bed. Everybody had a place to sleep, and I guess I’d found mine.

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