Sleeping is now our least favorite thing. We’re trying to incorporate a “sleep ritual,” as all the books recommend. It’s a lovely ritual. It involves a massage (for the Doodlebug, although, really, I’m the one who needs it), a reading of Goodnight Moon, and two or three songs. And sure enough, the Doodlebug will drift off to sleep. For about one hour. And then he’s up. With a vengeance. For hours. Take Monday night, for instance. At about 6 p.m., the Doodlebug was getting extremely heavy eyed. Big yawns. Droopy eyes. So we begin our ritual. He’s pleased with the massage. Entertained by the book. And drifts right off to sleep during the songs (which I like to think is because he thinks my singing is soothing, although I have a hunch it’s more that he realizes if he’s asleep, it’ll stop me from singing any more). I tiptoe downstairs. Adam and I have an evening to ourselves. Yeah! I finish making dinner (chicken cumin with black beans. Yummy!). We curl up on the couch, pop About Schmidt into the DVD player, and start eating. We get fifteen minutes into the movie when little sounds begin squawking from the monitor. “Eh. Eh eh eh. Eh.” We freeze, waiting to see if it’s going to pass. Things get quiet, and we begin eating again. And then it comes. The full out “Waaaaa!” Pause goes the movie, and up I go. After another twenty minutes of heavy eyes, yawns, and droopiness with a heavy helping of pinky sucking and tummy rubbing, we’re back in movie/dinner business. Down I go. Finish eating. Get into the film. And there it is again. The tiny cry of an overtired Doodlebug. This time, I give up, and I go upstairs to pick him up. I bring him downstairs and within three minutes, he’s sprawled across my body fast asleep. As Adam says, the Doodlebug just hates sleeping on flat surfaces. When the movie’s over, I don’t even try to make it upstairs. I put him in the Pack N Play, and within moments… he’s awake (that was a surprise ending, wasn’t it?). Adam and I gave up on the whole bed idea and put him in the swing, in which, again, he was asleep in minutes. Of course, his other favorite sleeping position is in bed with us. When he was a newborn, it was adorable and sweet and I loved, well, probably every other second of it. Now, he flails and snorts and grunts with some strength behind it, which means no sleep for me. But he’s a happy Doodlebug. And I guess that’s what counts. For now, at least. (Just a week or so ago, I swore, “I’ll never let my son cry it out in order to sleep”–otherwise known as Ferberize. Now, I can see a point in the not so distance future where I invest in a pair of ear plugs and sweat it out.)
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