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Sleep Already, Toddler!

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Oliver has been doing this weird thing where he wakes up around 3am and then screams bloody freakin’ murder until someone comes and gets him out of his room.

Granted, I realize we’ve conditioned him to do this since we have repeatedly followed the same routine of blindly stumbling into his room in the dark and then stumbling back to our room with a squalling Oliver in tow and tossing him into bed with us.

It had been working – kind of – and being awakened in the wee hours of the morning – repeatedly – can do strange, strange things to you.

You know you shouldn’t but you don’t have the fight left in you to do what you should.

This morning was no different from the rest of the mornings of this month. Oliver woke up, he bitched rather loudly about the fact no one had gotten him yet and I put him into bed with us…and went back to sleep. Sometime around 4:00, Oliver woke back up and demanded boob.

Here’s the thing: Oliver was born on Sept. 12, 2006. That makes him just over 18 months old – assuming I can count but I don’t hold out much hope when it comes to my math abilities. So, to be safe, let’s say Oliver is between 17 and 19 months old. There. Now I should be safe…I hope.

At any rate, he is far past that point where he must nurse at night so he doesn’t die. He’s past that point where his tiny little baby belly should be growling. In fact, he resembles a two year old much more than he resembles a baby and by all accounts should be sleeping through the night in his own bed not in our bed and COME ON ALREADY, DUDE JUST SLEEP IN YOUR OWN BED!

Oh, my tangent.

4:00. Boob demanding. I told him “No, go back to sleep”. What I really meant was “Go back to sleep you loud, needy boy. I’m trying to sleep here.”

And you would have thought I slapped the child – though I didn’t.

It was at that point – that 4:00 point – I was very, very thankful our bedroom does not share a wall with any of the other residents of our apartment building since man child screamed at the top of his lungs from 4:00 until 5:30 at which point I gave up the goat ghost and started cooking scrambled eggs for Oliver.

That hour and a half spent in hell bed included Oliver going “stiff as a board” – reminiscent of pre-teen slumber parties – along with several inadvertent kicks to my head and Tucker’s head along with much protestation and bitching.

Needless to say, that is not my favorite way to start my day.

We were doing well there for a while.

Oliver would go to sleep around 19:30 or 20:00 and wake around 5:00 or 5:30. If I didn’t get enough sleep, it was my own damn fault for staying up too late. And to be 100% honest, if I would go to bed before 23:00, I would feel much less tired the next day.

I’m not going to go back through my blog and see how many times I’ve said “do what works until it stops working” – you can if you want – but I know I’ve said or written it often and I still hold by that statement.

And this shit? It ain’t working.

I would love to say I’m going to go to bed by 21:00 tonight but that would probably be a lie if I said it. Instead, I’ll just hope Oliver decides to sleep longer that 4:00.

Cause that sucks.

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  1. Amy Tucker says:

    I probably won't write at Taste Like Crazy today. Read what I wrote yesterday;it's still fresh. I refrigerated it. http://su.pr/ACflNo

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