I could blame our parenting style, our lack of early holiday bedtimes, or I could blame my son for his refusal to sleep.
Instead, I am going to blame Monday. It seems like an easy target, and a guilty one at that.
This Monday began in its usual evil way: I had a caffeine headache, and was not thrilled to hear the alarm go off at 6:15am. I dragged my carcass out of bed, and with one eye open proceeded to drag myself (arms extended like an authentic zombie) towards the coffee machine.
I managed a few sips before my hubby reminded me that Noah needed awakening. Hmm. "The same Noah that was up giggling in his bedroom until midnight, a mere six hours ago?" I asked, feigning confusion.
"Yup, that one." Kevin winked as he left me to the task.
It's not that I don't love seeing my frizzy-haired little munchkin first thing in the morning. I love his his hair is squall of chaos at the back of his head. I love how his chubby little baby cheeks smell when I smother him with good morning kisses.
What I DON'T love is dealing with a two year old teenager who won't be awakened. I like it only slightly less than getting him to sleep at night.
Last night was a prime example:
9:00pm ~ warm soy milk, story, brush teeth, tuck in. BAM. He should have sunk like a rock into dream land when his head hit the pillow at 9:15
9:30pm ~ Not a chance.
9:45pm ~ Really, not a hope in heck.
10:00pm ~ he stripped his pajamas bottoms off, threw his diaper across the baby gate and into the darkened hallway. For good measure, he announced "I poooooooooooed! Daddy, I poooooooooed!"
Thank God he was lying. But he struck fear in our hearts for those few seconds after we spotted the discarded diaper but before we gathered the courage to switch on the light.
10:30 ~ "I want water! I so dirsty!"
10:45 ~ I all wet! (Intentionally dribbled his entire sippy cup all over himself)
10:46 ~ Momma says "Too bad! Noah gets to sleep like Nemo tonight!"
10:49 ~ Momma feels guilty and changes him into fresh pajamas
11:00 ~ a little voice cries out "Good night Momma! Good night daddy!"
11:13 ~ a little voice cries. And cries.
11:14 ~ Momma says "What is it, honey?"
"Momma no watch scary movie. I cry and cry."
Well, we were watching a movie... but nothing with a hail of bullets or a string of expletives. There were less sirens than he hears in real life on our busy street.
We switched the captions on, the sound off, and watched while holding our breaths in case our existence in the nearby room bothered him.
11:17pm ~ Daddy? Momma? You dere? You watching Nemo?"
Oh for the love of clownfish.
12:01am (on Monday MORNING) ~ he finally sleeps.
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So you can see, Monday mornings are not my favourite day of the week. I'm currently reading "The No Cry Sleep Solution for Toddlers" and am finding we've tried (and failed miserably) at most of the solutions offered.
Our tactic is to get his booty out of bed before 7am, so that he has a good nap at daycare, and is tired enough to sleep at a half decent hour (say, before 10pm).
That might work for us tonight- except that this morning Noah fell asleep drinking his milk, and passed out again in the car on the way to Grandma's. I don't even think he was fully awake when I eased his shoes off of him at 8:45am.
Oh well, we tried. And if he's a monkey again tonight, at least I can blame it on the Monday.
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