Not Sure How I’m Moving Right Now

Our evening:

9:55pm In a homemade margarita haze, we decide to let Bowie jump around on the bed while we finish up NBC Thursday night TV.

10:00pm Bowie lays down with his milk.

10:10pm Bowie demands more milk. More milk procured.

10:20pm Bowie wanders in demanding to be held. He is ushered back to bed, calmed down, falls asleep.

11:00pm Apprentice is over, TV off, we try to sleep.

12:00am Hubbs work calls with a big emergency. He flips on his lamp and types away. I try to snooze, but it’s not really happening.

The next couple of hours are a bit of a blur. Bowie was up and down a few times, telling me, “Mama I don’t feel.” As in, don’t feel good, because we all have a cold right now. I soothe him back to sleep a number of times.

2:30am Work problem (somewhat) resolved, lights off again. Both of us are now wide awake. We discuss random thoughts including new David Sedaris books and new Weezer albums.

3:00am Velcro [kitteh #2] is meowing at the door. Loudly. We don’t usually let her in when she comes in the middle of the night but we thought, hey, whatever.

3:01am Brien: “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.” Darts around the room. “There’s a mouse in here.”

3:02am We avoid mouse cooties and shuffle the (now obvious to us he was injured by our cat) mouse out the door. He tried to run back in, but with one last WHACK! with a book to the head from the Hubbs, he was outside again, and I am then worried about the mouse, that poor brain damaged mouse I hope he’s ok.

4:ooam About the time we’re both able to fall back asleep.

6:00am Bowie wakes up. Because that’s when he always wakes up.

6:05am Bowie lays in our bed, kicking and punching.

6:15am I take Bowie to the living room so Hubbs can sleep. I attempt to snooze while Bowie watches some TV (Parent of the Year, right here).

7:30am Hello world, meet the Wankels. All three with a cold and like, 3 hours of sleep. Today should totally rock.

A Funk

Have not blogged in several days, mostly because I’m not feeling so hot. I’ve been in the funkiest of funks.

I’ve got mad writer’s block and can barely muster a rewrite most days (which is as easy as it sounds). And I’m also in one of those ruts the other writers will understand, where you hate every single word you’ve ever written, so you don’t even want to use those drafts you set aside for just such a blocky situation.

I am also letting the idea settle in that we are not likely going to be able to afford to travel for the holidays. Which is always sad, and stresses me like you would not believe. The way prices are at the moment, airfare alone would run us about $1200 to $1500, and that’s not counting the food and the gas and the hotel and the car and blah blah blah. We just don’t have that kind of dough lying around.

And Bowie. Dear, sweet Bowie. He should get an Oscar for some of these tantrums, seriously. The screaming and hitting have not waned. The potty training is happening sometimes, but really mostly not happening. And just, you know, Terrible Twos. And a lot of moms are telling me that Three is worse. Which makes me want to hide my head in the sand.

I also just haven’t felt well physically. I’ve been running with my husband, which has stirred up a lot of old injuries (post-surgery feet, post-arthritis knee, etc.). And I thought I had, um, digestive issues before, but LORD. Something about the way I’ve been eating lately is taking its toll. And hubbs seems to have brought a cold home from the office that we’re all starting to get.

So there you go. Now that I’ve been the Debbie Downer for you all, maybe things will get better. But, I’m still here, still attempting to blog, muddling through the Terrible Twos and, well, surviving, I guess.

If we look sleepy…

…this is why.

I have a confession to make. Bowie has not slept through the night in about 2 months. And it’s not teething, and it’s not hunger, and it’s not noise (well, not all the time, because, well, THREE PETS). We’ve tried to remedy all those problems, and it still seems to be happening.

At first, we gave him more milk, and he drifted back to sleep. Then, that didn’t always work. He was cutting molars at that point, so we’d give him Tylenol and rock him back to sleep. Then that stopped working. So, then we were rocking him, laying him back down then rubbing his tummy or head until he fell back asleep, and then slooooowly tip toeing out the door, careful to step over the creaky board.

On a desperate night, we’d bring him into bed with us. I say desperate because, a toddler moves in their sleep the way they do awake: NON STOP. Kiddo might sleep, but you won’t. Plus, we’ve been mighty turned off of co-sleeping having heard one horror story after another about the six year old that refuses to sleep in their own bed. No thanks. But, sometimes when you’re holding a screaming toddler at 3 in the morning, you don’t do the most rational thing, just what seems the easiest in the short run.

Last night we found out that’s not working anymore either. I did the rocking-rubbing-sneaking combo three times, and he still woke up. I was determined not to bring him into bed, but then my husband and I lay awake in bed together in irritated silence and I was like, “okay, I’m bringing him in here.”


And, to top it all off, I get these developmental emails each month telling me what’s normal, what we should watch for, what kiddo should be able to do, etc. And it says this is all normal. NORMAL. And it can last for a whole year. YEAR.

I think it’s payback for all the times I bragged that Bowie slept through the night at 3 months.