Glorious Sleep Is in My Future
Remember how I said that the Beaner slept through the night in his big boy bed the first night? Not so the second or the third night. On Tuesday morning he woke up at 4:50am, crying from his bed. I proposed that we let him cry for a few minutes and see if he went back to sleep, but alas, it was not to be. I went up there and got into the bed with him.
After about 30 minutes I tried to sneak out, but he caught me and cried, so I got back in again and just gave in to the overwhelming tiredness. Both of us conked out again until 7:40am.
Last night the crying started at 3:00am, when I was at my most irrational. I've been known to fly out of bed to rescue my son from his crib at 3:00am despite the ban I've imposed on intervening in the middle of the night because something weird and maternal pokes me out of a deep sleep and screams A RESCUE IS NECESSARY. FLY, WOMAN, FLY! FLY UP THE STAIRS! Last night, the weird maternal finger of doom poked me out of a deep sleep at the sound of my child's cry, and I leapt out of bed... and informed the weird maternal finger of doom that "Iihavetopee. I HAVE TO PEE!" Which I did, and then, without stopping to consider whether it was sensible, I went upstairs to halt the crying.
I got in bed with the Beaner again, and the crying ceased. I did not attempt to sneak out this time, but neither did I fall into that blissful heavy sleep that I had fallen into the morning before. Instead, I fell into a restless, freezing half-sleep, and when we finally crawled out of bed at 8:15 (the Beaner hopped out himself—proving that he does indeed know how to do it), I did not feel rested at all.
This is why Al has been put on notice that if there is any crying before 6am tomorrow morning, it'll be his job to deal with it (or not). The weird maternal finger of doom can just go to H - E - double hockey sticks, because I am going to get a full night's sleep.
(I hope those aren't famous last words.)