Last Night In The Old House
April 8, 2010
Last night I wrote a sniffly sentimental post about how it was the Last Night in our old house. It was syrupy and boring and luckily for you, I then had the Full Last Night In Our Old House Experience and I flushed the sentimental down the toilet around three in the morning.
You see, ONE of my kids has been waking up every night. I'm not sure WHICH kid and honestly, sometimes it doesn't even matter. The protocol is the same: dash into their room, remove the offender, hope it doesn't take hours to put the offender out again. I've been blaming Jack, but I think last night was Molly. Someone was making noise and being the good mom I am, I sent their dad in to check it out.
This happened a few times, though the memory is fuzzy. I was still sleeping at that point. Kid makes noise, Phillip goes to see what's up, turns out Kid is talking in sleep or otherwise still unconscious. Win.
But on the third or fourth time I started to wake up a little more. I realized Phillip wasn't in bed. The alarm clock said "Two AM, AKA The Hour You Never Ever Want To See In Person, At Least At Age Thirty With Two Children". And I heard Molly's little chirping noises coming from downstairs. Oh. Phillip was trying to fall asleep with her on the couch.
My husband is so adorable, you guys. SO adorable. He really truly honestly believes that he can get these kids back to sleep. That HE can do it! Of his own volition! It can HAPPEN! I take a more realistic route with the middle of the night wakings. I've found my frustration is greatly reduced when I just plan to be awake for several hours. Lately we've discovered Jack will go back to sleep in our bed - not the best solution, mind you, as you wake up having your kidneys kicked out. But Molly? Good luck with Molly. That girl falls asleep in her own bed AND THAT'S FINAL. And before she bothers to fall back asleep she will 1) scream about it and 2) stop screaming about it long enough for you to think she's asleep, and then, when you check on her, her little head bobs right up back up and starts screaming again.
Phillip has "tricks" though. One of these includes rocking our 19-month-old daughter in front of the stove fan. It worked when she was teeny, it should work now, right? So when I heard the fan blast on I knew someone was reaching his limit. And sure enough, fifteen minutes later (I have no idea how he can hold her that long let alone hold out HOPE for that long) he marched upstairs and said, his voice empty and dead: "I need help."
Because Jack has been sleeping well in our bed and because at that point, "going back to sleep" was the only requirement, I whisked Jack out of his bed while Phillip deposited Molly back in hers. Jack immediately made himself at home on my side of the bed and Molly proceeded to scream. Not for long. "Great!" Phillip and I thought to ourselves, because we are suckers. "THAT was easy!"
But I am a Total Newbie and sneaked into Molly's room to cover her up. I was one foot away from the crib when the head bobbed up, the screaming started and I ran out, apologizing to my grumbling husband. Resigned to Jack's hand resting on my face for the rest of the night, I tried to fall back asleep.
AND THIS IS WHY MY HUSBAND DEALS WITH KIDS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. I cannot go back to sleep. EVER! Especially on nights like The Last Night In Our Old House, when I am filled with syrupy sentimentality AND astonishing amounts of I-have-so-much-crap-to-do-tomorrow stress. I could not stop thinking. My brain was fully loaded on every topic, from what was left to pack to calculating the amount of shelf paper I need to buy to my husband's next business trip to the Circumcision Debate I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU. When both my boy and my husband were snoring in tandem I was clinging to the edge of my mattress, wondering how long it would be till morning.
Eventually I fell asleep. I usually do. But today, Moving Day, I am warm vomit on toast. OF COURSE I AM. Tonight we send the kids to Grandma's house, tomorrow night they spend their first night in the new house. IN THEIR OWN ROOMS.