Last night, both Squeeker and DemonChild ended up in our bed. We are so sleep deprived that we can’t even remember how DemonChild got there. I do recall telling BelovedSpouse to just bring the screaming Squeeker in around 11:20 pm (15 minutes after I had gone to bed. The timing, it’s exquisite.) Between the first-born doing his level best to be the short horizontal line in the letter “H” in our bed, and the second-born alternately sleeping, screaming, head-butting, and trying to escape, it was yet another restless night.
At 6:15 am we returned the bundles of joy to their room. DemonChild slept on. Squeeker shrieked his indignation for at least fifteen minutes, but at that point we just told him to deal. Eventually, he fell back asleep, only to be woken up around 7 am by DemonChild, who was feeling well-rested and ready to boogie. We ignored them for another half-hour or so, and then BelovedSpouse got up while I stayed in bed trying to convince my eyes it was time to stay open for more than a second for another hour.
After I dragged my butt downstairs and joined the kids in selectively paying attention to Saturday morning cartoons, BelovedSpouse took apart the crib. Tonight, Squeeker is sleeping on a mattress on the floor. We’ll see how that goes. The hope is that if he is free from the baby cage, he will feel more empowered and actually spend the night in his own bed.
When we turned the lights off tonight, the kids were not too happy. Squeeker reminded us how well and how long he can scream. So be it. After ten or so Russian songs, he had fallen asleep (in self-defense, I am sure; my singing is spectacularly bad). DemonChild shunned his bed and opted to camp out on the chair. Fine. At that point, if he wanted to sleep hanging from the rafters like a bat, I would have put a pillow under him and said, “Carry on, but be quiet about it.”
We’ll see what tonight will bring. Somehow, I don’t think restful sleep is on the agenda. I would LOVE to be proven wrong, but I am not holding my breath.