The Non-Sleep Chronicles

Thursday, March 5, 2015



It's 4:46 a.m., I'm up with all of the animals, including my son, who right now is not a cheerful happy little boy but yet has turned into some nocturnal banshee who wails throughout the wee hours of the night.
This is one of those moments when people will say cliche things like "This too shall pass". Let's just state the obvious, alright? Let's not sugarcoat the situation here, people. I don't expect my kid to cry every night until his 18th birthday (God, I hope not...) but right now this sleeping situation F-ing sucks. He goes down for naps and bedtime without a fight at all, slipping peacefully into a deep slumber. He reads his books to himself, points out his family and friends in his photo album, babbles and is on his way to dreamland. 
At this point, I feel that Greg and I have tried literally everything under the sun to eradicate this problem. We've Ferberized, rocked and patted so much that we have a pretty solid rotation going every single night. Is he getting a tooth? He might be. Is he having separation anxiety? Probably so. All I know is, it's been a long friggin' time since I've seen the back of my eyelids. Wait, do I have eyelids anymore?
If there is any parenting "advice" that is true, its that you will never, ever sleep ever again. Of course, I would never say that to parents-to-be, they'll just find that out on their own. I remember when Lucca was 3 months old and we'd hold back from saying how great of a sleeper he was. We didn't want to jinx it. We've been jinxed. Turns out, you shouldn't even think that your baby is a good sleeper.
Here's how a typical night of no-sleeping goes:
7:45 p.m. - Lucca has second (or third or fourth) wind. He is running through the house like a tornado, kicking every single ball in sight, and pulling out toys he doesn't have any intention of playing with.
8:00 p.m. - Greg takes Lucca upstairs to get ready for bed. These days, Lucca will only read certain books. Right now, it's Dinosaur Train. One or two books, switch on the sound machine, turn off the light, and it's snooze time.
8:30-9:30 p.m. - Greg and I try to catch up on our overflowing DVR of TV shows. We usually can only make it through one episode and then it's lights out for us too. We're not stupid. We know what's coming.
9:30 p.m. -12:30 a.m. - Ahhhh, sleep. The dog is at the end of the bed. My 20lb cat half suffocating my face. Life is good.
12:30-1:30 a.m. If this is a gonna be a double shift kind of night, this is when the first round of wailing begins. This one always catches me off guard as it literally comes out of nowhere. Snoring and then screaming. How does it escalate that quickly? I look with one eyeball open at the monitor to assess the situation. Maybe he'll go back down. Maybe. Please God lay back down. Nope. Not a chance. He's standing, stomping and screaming. Our first session hopefully concludes with going back to sleep after G and I rotate entering his room and laying him down.
1:30-3:30 a.m. - "Oh my God this is the best sleep of my life. I'm so glad he went back down."
3:30 a.m.- The immediate screeching and screaming that occurs at this hour is enough to give anyone a heart attack. Newborn cries are one thing, but that sounds more like a squeaky toy. There is nothing quite like a toddler cry/scream/wail. Throw in a few "mammmmaaaa" cries here and there in between the most God-awful sounds you've ever heard.
3:30 a.m.- God knows when a.m. - It's during this time that there are a million expletives that are flying through the air, sometimes a punch to the pillow, a few mumblings about "Oh my God what are we going to do? We need to talk to the pediatrician. I can't do this anymore". Back and forth from his room to ours. Now the animals are all awake, running in and out of the bedrooms. Don't pick him up. Pick him up. Rock him. Don't rock him. Oh shit. He's bringing him in here. 
Let me interject real quick about co-sleeping. If that's your thing, power to you. High-five. Snuggle on. You're definitely sleeping blissfully and I am not. However, this is not my thing. My bed is my bed. I toss and turn 23482349 a night. I've tried snuggling with Lucca but I'm so worried I'm going to wake him up or (worse) squish him, so I can't ever sleep this way.
Lucca rolls back and forth in the giant space in the middle of our King size bed, rolls completely over until his back is on my face and I can't breathe. He goes back to his belly. Slaps my face. Then it's suddenly like a barnacle has latched on to my neck, with an unintended kick to the gut. Oh hellll no, this is not happening. Nope. 
And so, the crying, screaming, wailing and back and forth continues until someone taps out. 
6:00 a.m. - Babbling first, then wailing. "COME GET ME. I'M AWAKE NOW, MAMA . TIME TO WAKE UP!" Oh. My. God. 
So there you have it folks. This is no laughing matter. This is a serious situation. I can't continue this cycle and expect to be a happy, polite, productive adult every day of my life if this continues. We're going to need a serious intervention soon before I lose my shit on every person I encounter.
And now, 5:45 a..m. and silence. I'm going to go take a nap.

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