Every blue moon, I decide I'm going to put my foot down and establish good healthy sleep patterns for my child. Last night was one of those nights. Here's how it went:
11:00: Jackson wakes. This is fairly typical and many nights, this is my cue to go to bed. On a normal night, he'll come to our bed, wake up a few times, and grope at me throughout the night. But last night, I went into his room, told him he needed to stay in his crib tonight, and actually (miraculously), got him to lay down, put a blanket over him, sang a few songs, and walked out. I went to bed feeling cocky...I got this!
12:30: Jackson wakes again. I tried the same thing as before, explaining to Jackson that he would be sleeping in his crib tonight, a novel experience. With the help of Elmo, Mickey Mouse, and a few other friends, I coaxed him to lie down and I rubbed his back, sang him a few songs, and was feeling really positive about the whole thing. I got this! Then I tried to walk out of his room. He was not pleased.
12:50: After 15 minutes of unrelaxing reading in my bed, Brady walks in my room to inform me that Jackson was crying. I let Brady get in bed with me and a few minutes later, went back to Jackson's room
1:00: I repeat earlier process and once again, manage to get Jackson to lie down. I sing to him, rub his back, and stand at his crib a few minutes willing him to sleep. Feeling the lure of my own bed, I walk away. Mistake. Jackson cries, stands up, and I am unable to get him to lie back down. So I tell him goodnight, and walk out.
1:15: I can tell by the cries that Jackson has lost his pacifier (when he's especially ticked off, he stands up and throws it out of his crib), so I go back in, give him his paci, and give him a little hug to calm him down over the crib. He's groping at my hair like a drug fiend getting his first hit after a dry period. But of course, just a little dose of the drug is not satisfying. Jackson was standing up at the crib, head resting on the rails, stroking my head and his eyes started to close. My chances of getting him to fall asleep in his crib were better standing versus lying down. I told him goodnight and walked out.
1:30: Jackson is crying harder than he has all night and I know that he is nowhere close to giving in. Me, on the other hand, am feeling very deflated, so I delivered Brady back to his room and replaced him with a very stubborn Jackson who was pleased to get his way.
Unfortunately, the story doesn't end here. I actually would be fine(ish) with Jackson sleeping in our bed if he was like Brady and just kept to himself (except for a few stray kicks to the kidneys). But instead he is on me like white on rice. I thought after an hour of crying he'd pass out, but like most things last night, I was wrong. Its hard to describe what Jackson actually does to me in bed, but think of the cutest leech you've ever seen and that's Jackson. He goes for hair or skin, and not just his hands. Many times while he is wrestling around, he lifts up his head for the "pillow," which is actually me, his human pillow. But unlike an actual pillow that is comfortable, my boney hips, back, or face that he finds isn't as comfortable, so he ends up flailing around some more trying to find a comfortable spot. Once he does, I usually can take it only so long and try to move to get comfortable myself, which restarts the process. While his eyes were presumably shut the whole time, it took him an hour until he was asleep deeply enough for me to extract myself from him. And my anxiety was high at this point, and my blood was boiling, so I really had no chance of sleep until he was completely off of me. So around 2:30, I was able to finally relax and find my happy place, not to be disturbed until Brady rolled in my room at 6 am asking if I would snuggle. The two boys fought over some mommy real estate and after some maneuvering, everyone was happy and we all managed a little more sleep.
What I learned: half-hearted commitment is not going to work with this child. I need to be prepared to let him cry and cry and cry if I'm going to break the cycle. What I did last night only showed him that if he cries long enough, he gets what he wants. And it provided me with about an hour less sleep than usual (which I find insufficient in the first place) and made me contemplate trading Jackson in for a newer model. Actually, an older model would be nice.
So I'm off to bed. After a fresh defeat, my heart is not in it tonight so chances are that when Eric returns home very late tonight after a road trip to Clemson, he will be greeted in bed by at least half his family. And if he's really lucky, all of them.
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