Bein' the bad guy sucks.
Ever since my son was born, bedtime was somehow my responsibility. At first, well.. I had the goods, if you know what I mean, and thus was the one to snuggle him down at night. In fact, he slept safely beside me so I could reach him when he was hungry without having him wake up all the way.
At about six months, when we had to switch to bottle feeding, he moved gently into his own bed after two or three nights of me waking to a sweet little giggle as a hand smacked my face (aaah!) he would say, wanting to play. There are, after all, limits to even a doting mom's resilience. No sleep makes mom a mess.
He has never, never never never, liked to go to sleep, though there have been blessed times in his 3 years when I had him "trained" to just. Go. To. Bed. Something has always mangled it; a visit to Grandma's being the most recent.
So here we are again; he wants me to lie down with him at night (actually, he would prefer that I spend the night in his bed, but this I won't do) until he's asleep. But see.. my son loves the talkin' (what a shock, I know! We're trying to figure out where he got it from), and if I lay down with him or even just sit in there, he can't settle, because he has so much to say. So... eventually, I have to be the bad guy.
I know that this process is only going to take a week or two before I get him back to where he was pre-Meemaw-visit. Soon enough, after a few touuuuugh bedtimes and a few toooough mornings with a cranky kiddo, I'll have him back on schedule. Our nighttime ritual will again involve creating ever more elaborate versions of some made-up story until it becomes too cumbersome and we have to start over. It will again involve a snuggle, a story, a song, a few minutes of back-scratching, and then a kiss goodnight. "I have to go get things ready for school and work tomorrow," I will say, "but I will check on you before I go to sleep, ok?" He will smile a sleepy smile, nod, and say "I love you too" in response to my "Love you, Blueeyes." And I will go out the door, happy and unscathed by the shrieks or the sobs.
But ooooooooh getting there... man, bein' the bad guy suuucks.
At about six months, when we had to switch to bottle feeding, he moved gently into his own bed after two or three nights of me waking to a sweet little giggle as a hand smacked my face (aaah!) he would say, wanting to play. There are, after all, limits to even a doting mom's resilience. No sleep makes mom a mess.
He has never, never never never, liked to go to sleep, though there have been blessed times in his 3 years when I had him "trained" to just. Go. To. Bed. Something has always mangled it; a visit to Grandma's being the most recent.
So here we are again; he wants me to lie down with him at night (actually, he would prefer that I spend the night in his bed, but this I won't do) until he's asleep. But see.. my son loves the talkin' (what a shock, I know! We're trying to figure out where he got it from), and if I lay down with him or even just sit in there, he can't settle, because he has so much to say. So... eventually, I have to be the bad guy.
I know that this process is only going to take a week or two before I get him back to where he was pre-Meemaw-visit. Soon enough, after a few touuuuugh bedtimes and a few toooough mornings with a cranky kiddo, I'll have him back on schedule. Our nighttime ritual will again involve creating ever more elaborate versions of some made-up story until it becomes too cumbersome and we have to start over. It will again involve a snuggle, a story, a song, a few minutes of back-scratching, and then a kiss goodnight. "I have to go get things ready for school and work tomorrow," I will say, "but I will check on you before I go to sleep, ok?" He will smile a sleepy smile, nod, and say "I love you too" in response to my "Love you, Blueeyes." And I will go out the door, happy and unscathed by the shrieks or the sobs.
But ooooooooh getting there... man, bein' the bad guy suuucks.