Wordless Wednesday: This is what 8 hours at Disneyland looks like

Batman

I got a horrible night's sleep last night.

Something kept poking me.

In the morning, I found him.

I had been sleeping with Batman.

Sadly, not this one.

This one.

Wordless Wednesday

Truly, 2 am is not my finest hour.

~
I didn't really breastfeed my older two kids.

I realize that the Breastfeeding Gestapo will gasp in horror at this and may try to hunt me down. Fine.

I realized something when I tried to breastfeed my daughter. Newborns eat about every two hours. Even at night.

Game over.

If I do not get at least six hours of sleep straight, I turn into Medusa. And even with 6 hours, I will still exhibit Medusa like qualities. Just not the head full of snakes.

So I admitted with my daughter that I was entirely too selfish, and after two weeks she got formula.

With my son, I was able to breastfeed him during the day. He got a bottle of formula at night. My husband fed him.

But with Baby Girl, I really wanted to breastfeed. Plus, you know, we don't have the money for formula. So I sucked it up.

Is it easy? Let's just say it's getting easier. But the one thing that makes it really easy? I WILL NOT FEED HER BETWEEN 12 AM and 5 AM. (Take that, Breastfeeding Gestapo!)

Please do not call the police. I'm not letting her scream hungrily in her bassinet. If she wakes up during that time period, she gets a bottle of breast milk. And my husband has to feed it to her, because I don't want to create nipple confusion. (At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

This plan has been mostly working. Except for the other night.

I fed the baby at 11 pm. I put her in the bassinet. My husband had fallen asleep earlier, so I shook him awake and told him that he was in charge of the baby.

Then I did the dishes, picked up the living room, and went to bed around 11:30.

Boyo woke up at 12. "I haf a bad dweam, Mom," he told me pitifully when I stumbled into his room.

I sympathized and soothed, tucked him back in, and returned to bed.

At 1 am, I woke up to Baby Girl screaming her head off in the bassinet. I lightly tapped my husband. "Baby needs you," I told him. "The bottle's on the nightstand."

He sat up, scooped up the baby, and held her right next to my head where she continued to scream. He did not give her a bottle. He did not change her. He rocked her and said, "Shhhhhhhhhhh," for about 30 minutes.

At this point, I was imagining punching my husband. So instead I snatched the baby from him and began to breastfeed her.

My husband laid back down and went to sleep. The phrase "I saw red," doesn't even begin to cover it.

I lost my mind. "Are you awake?" I snarled. He snored. "WAKE UP!" He snored again.

I punched him in the shoulder. He startled awake. Just to be sure he was awake though, I punched him again. "WHAT?" he snapped. "I'm awake! You didn't have to punch me!"

"You should be thankful all I did was punch you!" I snapped back. "Did you hear ANYTHING I told you tonight?"

"No, but I'm awake now. What do you need?"

I sputtered in anger. Baby Girl began to fuss again. I thrust the baby at him. "She's done eating. Burp her. Take her into the living room. Put her in her swing. Here's a bottle. Now get the f#@% out of here so I can go to sleep!!"

He sleepily took the baby and left. I laid down and seethed, thinking murderous thoughts, but then I realized that I would have 3 kids to raise by myself. (I'm joking! I love my husband even when I hate him, to quote Crazy Stupid Love. It's just hard to remember that at 2 in the morning.)

And 30 minutes after he left? Girlie climbed into bed with me and proceeded to kick me for 3 hours in her sleep.

I'm beginning to think sleep is for the weak.

Just when I thought she was growing up too fast...

~
Last night, Girlie had an accident when she was sleeping. It's no big - she sleeps with a blue mat on her bed, so it's a simple matter of pulling the mat and the top cover, changing her and replacing the blue mat and cover blanket. It's so not a big deal that my husband and I can (and have) done it in our sleep.

So last night (or early this morning, depending on your definition), Girlie came into our room and patted my arm. "Momma," she whispered. "I had an accident."

I rolled out of bed and stumbled to her room. Once there, I noticed that the soiled bedding and clothing were piled by her hamper, new bedding had been laid out, and she had changed her pants herself.

"Sweet pea, did you take care of this?" I asked. When she nodded, I gave her a big hug. "What a big girl you are!" But then a though occurred to me as I was tucking her into bed: "Honey-Girl, why did you wake me up if you had taken care of it?"

"Because Momma," she sighed sleepily, "I need you to kiss me back to sleep!"

Why I'm Tired

~
11:31 pm: I went to bed.

11:42 pm: Boyo had a terrible nightmare; he ran out of his room wailing and couldn't be comforted.

11:56 pm: I finally calm him down, but he refuses to go back into his bedroom. I let him climb into bed with my husband and I.

12:02 am: Just as I am starting to fall asleep again, I get whacked in the head with a binky and sit up to find my son demanding "Mow Mik!"

12:03 - 1:30 am: I won't detail all of it, but I spend the next hour and a half getting climbed all over, punched, kicked, snuggled, hair pulled, and ultimately shoved off the bed. Boyo won't go back to sleep.

1:32 am: I sit up, cuddle Boyo in my arms, and sing him a lullaby. There is a note of desperation in my voice. Or full fledged hysteria. I'm so tired, I can't tell.

2:09 am: Boyo finally falls asleep. He's sleeping sideways on our bed, and my husband and I have an inch and a half of bed to share. Whatever, I'll take it.

2:17 am: Just as I fall asleep, I hear my daughter screaming for me. The storm has scared her. And she's wet. I get her changed and pull her into bed with us, and she thinks this would be a great time to have a philosophical discussion. Hey, who's your favorite Disney Princess?

2:43: I finally get my daughter asleep. I have a 2 year old elbow in my ear, a three year old foot in my back, and my husband is snoring. Great. I ease myself out of bed and go to sleep in my son's room.

6:12 am: I wake up to find Girlie staring at me over the safety bar on the twin bed. "Momma?" she asks quizzically, "Why are you in Brother's bed? It's time to get up; it's light outside."

Things I've Learned About My Son in the Past 12 Hours

1. He sleepwalks. Right to my side of the bed. And then he wakes up, kisses my hand, and says, "Momma, uppie?"

2. He is quite proud of his vocabulary at 2:30 in the morning. He sat on my pillow and named everything in my room he could see. And when he found something he didn't know the name to? He smacked me on the head and asked, "That?"

3. When he says he wants Momma at 3 in the morning, he means he wants Momma. So I had no luck kicking my husband awake and telling him to take care of Boyo.

4. My son likes to sleep on my neck. Not curled up next to me, not on my chest, on my neck. Which means I don't sleep at all. Or breathe.

5. For some odd reason, my son has decided he has to sleep with the Sleeping Beauty DVD case. Getting hit in the head with the Sleeping Beauty DVD case at 3:30 in the morning is not pleasant.

And what have I learned about my husband in the past 12 hours?
He's really good at pretending to sleep through all of the above.

One Track Mind

~

My daughter is very determined to get her way.

Yesterday, she left part of her toy in the car. She decided that she needed it at 9:58 pm at night, an hour and 58 minutes past her bedtime.

Me: "No, you cannot have it right now. It's past bedtime."

Girlie: "But I need it."

Me: "No, you don't. You need to go to sleep."

Girlie: "I'll go to sleep after I get it. Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"

Me: "No, it doesn't sound like a good plan. It's dark outside. Mommy will go get your toy when it's light outside."

Girlie: "Okay, you can go get my toy when it's light outside."

....five hours later, at 2:58 in the morning...

Girlie: "Mommy, is it light outside yet?"

Me (groggily): "Huh?"

Girlie: "You said you would get my toy when it's light outside. Is it light outside yet?"

Me (after opening one eye to see my daughter's face an inch a way from mine): "NO! Go back to bed! Mommy's not getting your toy right now!"

Girlie: "I wanna hafta sleep with you."

Me (groaning): "Why?"

Girlie: "Because my bed's wet."

Me: "Why is your bed --never mind. Climb on in."

... three hours later at 5:53 in the morning...

Girlie: (bouncing on my stomach) "Get up Momma! It's light outside. You can go get my toy now!"

Me: "Umph! Baby Girl, Momma will go when there is an eight on the clock."

...five minutes later at 5:58 in the morning...

Girlie: "Momma! There is an 8 on the clock now!"


I have got to teach that child how to tell time.

Stream of Consciousness

~

A conversation my daughter recently had with herself to keep herself awake while we were driving home:

"I love Daddy and Brother loves Momma I like to eat ice cream and watch a show in Momma's bed, Daddy can sleep on the couch while we watch princessessess just us girls I need my tiny seat, I don't like my new seat because it's too big and I'm too tiny but it has arm rests and my old seat didn't have armrests I'm three except when I go to Disneyland then I'm two and brother is a baby because he wears diapers and I can't have soda because I'm not big like Nikki's brother I'm still tiny I have one more pull up and then I wear panties and put my peepee in the potty like a big girl no accidents in my Cinderella panties I went swimming today at the birthday party cause I just did my best and I need a cup of water when we get home and I want to feed Kat dinner and play with my princessesses and GamGam and Poppa are going to take us to Disneyland and they are right behind us but I'm too tiny for my seat and I'm stuck in my seat not safe and I see the Big A! Lookit Momma, the big A!! I can spell my name and E-I-E-I...."

"...O?" I asked, turning around to find her like this in her car seat:

Surrender

~
Getting my kids to go to sleep has always been an issue. They just don't want to go. My daughter will play in her room for an hour or more. We can hear her singing songs, reading books, or having a tea party. Sometimes she will open her door and ask for something to eat, or tell us she has to go potty. Anything to push bedtime back.

And my son will just scream his head off until I'm ready to slam my head into a wall. He will not be soothed. Just wants to scream for 2o to 30 minutes.

But, eventually, they both give up and surrender to the Sandman.