Ani sang that “every tool is a weapon, if you hold it right.” My addendum to that is that any spheroid object is a deadly projectile if a three year old is holding it.
Last night, 3B dreamed of Van Halen, Mama dreamed that she was in Project Runway and talked to Heidi Klum, who told her about the outfit she designed, “It’s over the top…and I love it!” Mama was both a designer and model–of course she was. She’s an overachiever even in her dreams. Me, I had no dreams.
Jewel might have finally slept long enough to dream last night. She went from midnight to 5 a.m. between feedings. There was one other night that she went as long, but she was assisted by me rocking her in the glider for a few hours while watching bad late night t.v. …or is that redundant?
Generally she has one good period of sleep every night. Unfortunately, it’s usually right after she first goes down for the night, from about 7 p.m. to 10 p.m. or so, which is when we’re awake, scrambling to get things done around the house and prepare for tomorrow. What we should do is sleep during that time, then be awake during the next few hours when her sleep is more fitful. But, we all know that, like President Bartlet, naps make me groggy and cranky–unfortunately, the similarities end there–so I’d wake up pissed off with a head full of tar, which isn’t the best feeling when dealing with a baby who won’t quite sleep.
Instead, we’ve settled on me going to bed earlyish, so I can get up at 5 a.m. which is Jewel’s typical wakeup time. Mama comes to bed later, is wakened for a few feedings in the night, and then sleeps until 6 a.m., when I have to start getting ready for work. Usually 3B isn’t up until 7:30 or so.
This morning, however, I saw light shining into our room from his when I rolled out of bed at 5. Sure enough, his door was open and his lights were on. He was sitting amidst his toys and said, “Daddy, I’m not tired.”
Really? I couldn’t tell.
Except he was tired. After getting him some breakfast and putting on Sesame Street for him–actually, he requested Curious George, but Sesame Street was just coming on and he got into it, which is a first–I sat next to him with Jewel. It was pretty clear that someone on that couch had crapped their pants.
It’s sobering to realize that I could discern by the smell that it was my son, not my daughter. That’s something they don’t teach you in college. So I asked if he was a poopster, finally connecting that when he poops, he wakes up and can’t get back to sleep. He said no a few times until I insisted on checking. I went to check by hooking my fingers over the back of his diaper to pull it out…and why haven’t I learned in three years not to hook my fingers over the center of his diaper in the back?
When I was done changing him, and cleaning under my fingernails, I picked up Jewel from her crib and…Bingo! Two for two. She was more obvious about it, having crapped through her pajamas and her Woombie. Good times.
By the time Mama got up, however, I had both the kids in clean diapers and new outfits. That’s progress. 3B had also eaten breakfast and helped make coffee for Mama. I had her breakfast ready as well. Then again, he had already watched his daily allotment of t.v. and all three of us were ready for a nap, and only Jewel was going to get one.
I’m just hoping that does nap today, unlike most days, and that when I come through the door, he doesn’t try to drill a rubber ball through my forehead like he did the other night when I was late home and he was overextended and fractious.