Sleeping on the floor

Can you think of anything better than laying in the dark, having a sweet conversation with your 21 month old who's language skills are budding right before your eyes, (OK, not exactly, because it's dark, but you know what I mean) stringing together adorable little fragments of sentences? I can. Most days I would tell you it would be having that conversation at ten o clock in the morning instead of at four. 

Last night I had about five hours of sleep; two on the couch, two in my bed and one on the floor, the very hard cold floor, wrapped in a blanket next to my son's crib because call me crazy, but I would rather lie there listening to him recite sweet nothings about trucks and cars and pumpkins at that ungodly hour than listen to him wail and scream with a pillow over my head, the whole time wishing we were all asleep. Note to new moms: Those baby books people give you about sleep? They are for babies. Notice how no one gave you a sleeping book for toddlers? You see, it's because when they are toddlers, NOTHING WORKS.

Everybody knows what you are in for when you have a baby. Babies don't sleep. Got it. Of course, I was exhausted, but even in the most difficult of days I could find a rhythm. I could let the dog out, feed the baby, take my vitamins and change my pajamas while sitting on the toilet, all without regaining full consciousness, able to collapse in my unmade bed for a few more hours of slumber. Even after going back to work I wore my disheveled look with pride. I would tell people I had been up since four, not to exhort sympathy, but because I was amazed that I could function, managing to get to work with matching shoes on under the circumstances, much less accomplish it for months on end.

I thought by now, that at almost two years of age, sleep would be a non issue and I'd be devoting more of my spot-on mothering skills to making sure he wasn't eating dog food (which he has) and giving himself black eyes from over zealous flopping about on the furniture (he's also done that). I was wrong. (Obviously).

There were days in the early stages when I actually enjoyed being awake during the dark, quiet 4 O clock winter hours when everything was silent- much like a little kid does when they get to stay up past their bed time. It was as if more of the world was mine for an hour or two because no one else was around to see it.

Despite the fact that many other moms have thrown out the old all-encompassing 'this too shall pass' and the pediatrician assures me that when he is a teenager I will never be able to get him out of bed, I don't think I will ever sleep again. Because what will I do when he no longer looks to me to see if touching the television again after being told not to seven hundred times is really a bad idea? When he stops believing me that anything with a slight amount of texture is really a tasty piece of cheese and unquestioningly pops it into his mouth? What about the super scary stuff like when girls start to call or when he wants to go camping with his friends or the Senior trip to Scotland without me? When he wants to test his independance in ways that don't include flopping on the floor or the stomping of feet?

This morning he called for me at four-thirty. I tried my laying on the floor trick but he just wasn't having it. After a few minutes I picked him up, not entirely sure what I was going to do with him once I did: Walk him around until he settled himself down? Lay him down and let him cry it out? Bring him to our bed ensuring that everyone would be up for the day with no hopes of getting any more sleep?

As I held him close the crying subsided so I stood still. I felt his body relax into mine. I asked him, do you want to lay with me?  Lay with me? He repeated- his way of answering yes.

We got on the floor, on the rug next to his crib. I fluffed up his pillow and we shared my blanket. His hands felt cold in the early morning chill so I covered his up with mine and we snuggled in the darkness. I didn't think about what time it was or how much I had to do today. All I could think about was how perfect it felt to have my busy body little boy content to lay peacefully next to me, his little fingers wrapped around mine.

As his breathing deepened and he surrendered to sleepiness I reluctantly, slowly tried to inch my hand away so as not to disturb him.

Mama? He said. He was still awake.

Yes baby, I'm right here.

Hold hands? He asked.

Sure baby, let's hold hands.

He again wrapped his little fingers around my hand and with it, my heart. I thought to myself, I would trade a lifetime of sleep for this.

Sometimes it doesn't get any better than that.                

Comments

[lynsalyns]

OK, this is going to make me a cheat, because this is going to be my November perfect post award. No joking. Couldn't you have waited, like, 10 more hours to hit "publish?"

Love this. I've had this feeling in my heart, too. Isn't it so pure? It makes me certain that true divinity exists.

[FFF]

Beautiful. I love those quiet hours early in the cool morning with just you and the litte one snuggled up. I like to think that we mothers make them feel safe and secure, and that maybe they can wear that feeling like a coat around them when we go to work later in the day. "hold hands..." so precious. But also scary. You are telling me that the sleeping thing doesn't get better for a while?

[bubandpie]

Sigh. After two years of sleeping through the night, Bub has totally abandoned the practice, with the result that I spend most of my time debating as to whether I should obsess about WHY the night-waking is occurring, or focus on WHAT strategies might prevent it (both options are equally pointless, as you well know).

Sounds like maybe your little guy is ready for a bed? The big advantage is that it's a lot warmer and cosier when it's time for those middle-of-the-night cuddles.

Beautiful post. I'll try to remember it at 4 o'clock tomorrow morning!