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Saturday, January 30, 2010


It’s all about timing.  Remember when I said 2 am seems to be when Big Dub is honing his skills, plotting against me, denying his poor little mind and body (and mine) the sleep it deserves??  I continue to think this is when he does his best plotting, shuffling his cards, coming up with his game play.  But, I think I may now be onto him and as I am starting to see a pattern in his plottings.
He knows when we are about to start the sleep smackdown all over again.  As soon as hubby and I have committed ourselves to the weak version of crying it out (Ferberizing him), Big Dub makes sure to eat the play structure at the mall, licking every grotesque crevice of the mandatory shoeless play area to guarantee coming down with a cold (which my sister-in-law pointed out to me, as Big Dub was sucking on the well tread path, is a breeding ground for athletes foot – then I had to wonder if he could get athletes foot of the mouth?).  A runny nose, crankiness and low-grade fever are all the guilt a mama needs to put the sleep smackdown on hold.  Again.  This is the sympathy card.  Well played my friend, well played.

There was another evening about 2 weeks ago when he had woken up around 12 am.  This doesn’t seem so bad, but when he has already been up twice after his 7:00 bedtime and I had just gotten to a deep sleep, it feels that bad and sets a tone for the rest of the night.  I went in his room determined to do the “pat, pat, night, night baby.”  However, the stench in the room made me choke a little and I realized Big Dub had pooped himself awake.  This also seems like it’s not that bad, but, Big Dub has also been denying himself the pleasure of a drama-free diaper change for some time now.  Apparently he prefers to sit in his own poop as his screaming, arching, crying and amazing acrobatic ability to propel his body off of the changing pad is astounding (yes, his changing pad is on the floor – note to prego mamas, don’t bother with a changing table, they are able to propel themselves off of them at far too early an age to make them worth the money spent on them).  As I am almost in tears, without the will to fight him, yet trying desperately to avoid poop all over him, myself and his room as he thrashes about, Big Dub grabs onto my shoulders and pulls his little naked butt to a standing, grabs onto me and wails right in my earhole “MAMAAA!”  It was the first time he said “mama” where I really knew he knew what he was saying.  Again, a card well played.

Christmas Eve morning was another rough one for us.  We had been up all night and around 4 am I had given up and just got up for the day.  Big Dub and I were rolling around on the living room floor, I exhausted and bitter, thinking this was not a good way to start our holidays.  Big Dub had been on one of his finely tuned stretches of 2 hour blocks of sleep for about a week.  I had to work that day, the brain synapses had not been firing due to sleep deprivation and I forgot to schedule myself off.  I was on the floor thinking how ungodly early it was, sipping my coffee wondering how many cups I could have before it started to wire Big Dub too, thinking that I still had 45 minutes before I even had to get in the shower to start getting ready for work, far too early…  And then Big Dub redeemed himself.  He eyed a toy and army crawled forward.  Just like that. Snatched it up just like that.  I had been pretty sure he was never going to crawl as up until that point he had showed zero interest, rolling at times, but preferring to  yell baby profanities until someone picked him up or took him to the object he was seeking.  He had not gotten up on his hands and knees ever.  I cried a little, tears of joy, realizing that from here forward he might just entertain himself for more than 45 seconds at a time.  Merry Christmas to me…  The timing of that one was impeccable.

He always knows when we are about to start researching adoption agencies, searching for a family better suited to him that we are.  Like a family who is allergic to light and can only be up at night.  Or maybe a nice polygamist family (although they probably have enough children of their own) where he can have his choice of moms to snack off of, and always a pair of arms to hold him.  I think he would also fit in well with a super trendy and cool family, one that doesn’t even use diapers and is into the “elimination communication” (I get pooped and peed on enough with the use of diapers, much less going without them).

And that is when he pulls his card and plays his ace, keeping himself in the game a little longer.



I'm just and average mama who's not afraid to say all the things you know you are thinking.  Or just not smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

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