I thought we had finally started to make progress with this whole sleep thing. At 18 months old, Cole was finally starting to sleep "mostly" through the night (waking once or twice) and would sleep in until 6:00am (shut up, that's good for us!) And then...a sinus infection happened. And and ear infection. And an eye infection. And then the cherry on the sundae: a touch of bronchitis.
Sleep went out the window, and we are back to waking three times a night with an early morning "I'm awake but still tired but won't to back to sleep" situation happening every morning around 4:45am. YAWN.
It's always at this final early morning wake-up that Cole is the most amusing/irritating. He so desperately wants to sleep, but he can't quite settle down. I call this act "Wrestling the Tired Alligator."
Here, let me paint you a picture of the scenario:
"Ma-ma-ma-ma!" (I groggily stumble into his room)
"Hi" (he says, then jumps into my arms). We lie down together on his bed. I snuggle him on his side. He reaches down my shirt for my boob. "No boob." I say. He grumbles and whimpers in protest, but knows I won't give in. So he tries to close his eyes. He flips over to the left. He flops over the the right. He climbs on top of me and burrows his head into my shoulder. Now he's on my other side. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop. His little hand twitches, and wanders up onto my face. He pokes me in the eye. "Eye. Eye." Then I gently take his hand away and try to put pressure on it between our bodies (maybe he has "restless legs" but in his arms?). He stays still for 30 seconds. Maybe he's falling asleep? I begin to get hopeful...NOPE. The arm pulls free, and tickle's it's way up my arm. He finds my nose. He pokes it. "Nose!" His eyes are half shut. His voice is sleepy. This pattern continues for 10...15...20 minutes. I'm tired. "Cole...it's time to go to sleep!" I say in a soft but firm and clearly annoyed voice. He stiffens up, and stops moving. He forces his eyes shut. He's still for 60 seconds. Holy crap, did that just work? Then his foot twitches. And his knee. Then his eyes flicker open. And the wrestling of the sleepy alligator continues for another hour until it's time to get up and get ready for work. Sometimes he will fall back into a light sleep for 20-30 minutes, but not usually.
Sigh. Yawn. Coffee. Yawn.
This has been our morning routine again for the past couple of weeks. I go to bed at 9pm in anticipation of this gong-show we call bedtime. My husband has also been getting up for the wrestling shift at 4:45am, so he's had his share of face pokings and body climbing too. It's only fair that I share the love, right?
But you know what? As exhausting as it is, and as irritated as I get at times (I have said things like, why won't you fucking sleep?!?) all in all...I know that these days will be behind us in the blink of an eye, and in a strange sort of way I will miss wrestling my sweet-smelling sleepy little alligator.
And really, why even have fantasies of a full nights sleep? Baby Warman #2 will be here in six months, so I might as well just stay in the sleepless trenches a little longer and not even tease myself with the idea a rested slumber...
Right? That's my pessimistic take on optimism, people!
Now excuse me while I go and try to make myself look awake...
To read more of my blog posts regarding sleep (or lack thereof) check out this! Or this one! But then there was the one time I got sleep...Ahhh. Rainbows.
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