Sleeping with the enemy

At the ripe age of 16 months, I thought Jackson would have this sleeping thing under wraps. He doesn't. As soon as things seem like they're about to turn, he sweeps the rug from under me. Here's last night's rundown:

11:10 pm: I am about to enter the world of fairies and rainbows, and I'm jolted back to reality with the unmistakable sound of my second born. Who, as you will see, is trying to make himself my last born.

11:15 pm: After 5 minutes of cries that convince me he's just getting started, I go into comfort Jackson. I rock him to sleep and put him in his crib. He screams. 

11:30 pm: Eric gives it a go. I hear an extended silence coming from the nursery and begin to relax. Then wails. It appears the transition didn't go well.  We let Jackson cry a while and every so often he'd take a break (maybe 30 seconds?). Let's compare this to a person hooked up to a low level voltage machine. There is no rhyme or reason as to when they will be zapped, so they live in a constant state of anxiety. Occasionally, they believe their torturer has had enough and the moment their blood pressure and heart rate has returned to its normal rates, ZAPP!!  Exaggeration? Probably, but you moms out there know that a baby's cry has an effect on the body unlike any other.

Midnight-ish: I go back in to the lion's den. Rock the cub to sleep. Place him gently down in the crib. The lion roars.

12:30 am: Eric takes Jackson into the guest room. Propped in front of the boob tube, Jackson is content. My body is not, and I'm unable to sleep, knowing that I'll be hearing cries as soon as Jackson decides it's bedtime.  Ready to put this situation (and kid) to bed, I take Jackson back to his room and instantly, he wiggles out of my arms. With his cute belly leading, he runs out into the hallway and back to the guest room. Resigned, I shut the door to the guest room. The last I see, Jackson is jumping on the bed. I meet Brady in the hallway and divert him back to bed. This party is already too big.

1 am: Despite multiple closed doors, I hear Jackson crying in the bed with Eric. He is happy to watch tv with him, but sleeping is a different story. I take him back to his room, nurse him, rock him, and put him in his crib. He is asleep. Until...

1:30 am: 10 minutes of silence and my blood boils again with howls from the bedroom. I give it a few minutes and concede defeat. A valiant effort, but I am no match for the beast.  I bring Jackson into our bed where he makes his goal to have his every single body part touching every single one of mine. I am all about snuggling, but as he lies on me cheek to cheek, stealing all the oxygen, it has gone too far.

2ish: I am asleep, I think.

5ish: Jackson awakens from his three hour cycle, and I try to pull him close to avoid an all-out crying fest. But I realize that Brady (where did he come from?) has acquired prime Mommy real estate and doesn't want to give it up.  The next two hours are an example of how being awake and asleep can be merged together. That's where I was, and where I often live when Jackson is in my bed.

7:30 am: Jackson "sleeps in" and as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I hope the need for beauty sleep is a myth. If it's not, I'm having an ugly year.