Night conversations

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My poor little dude, my exasperating little dude, my sweet little dude is a little ball of intensity. He’s never done well with the whole winding down during sleep, and our family has always been vistied by frequent wakings and nightmares and lots of needs during the hours for which I plan to be blissfully neglectful. But we’re hardcore believers in gentle parenting and attachment parenting and nighttime parenting and generally thoughtful parenting, so we let him handle what he can and help him with the rest.

At about two and a half he slept through the night a few times. At three, a few more. Now, at three and a half he sleeps through the night reliably most nights.

But I don’t. Because this little ball of stress, this empathetic barometer of all that is going on in his world, still has vivid dreams, though we’ve never even talked about that word. And he now, instead of waking up crying and scared, yells back in his sleep.

Full sentences.

Sometimes scary. But often hilarious.

Funny even though they wake me up during hours for which I had a lot of ignoring him planned.

Recent examples, all of which seem to occur between 2am and 3:45am:

“No. No! No! I want to choose!”

“Hey! Four blackberries!”

“I don’t want to. No! You take a bath!”

“No. No. NO! There are no alligators, Frog.”

You tell ’em, buddy.

11 thoughts on “Night conversations”

  2. Thank you for this, because Miss M. has a horrible-no-good-very-bad-cold and has, three times a night, been wandering out of her room, squatting right outside the bedroom door, and keening like a pregnant cow.

    My husband, who also has the cold, has absolved himself of any responsibility, which is why I look like a haggard, 70 year old prostitute.

    Someday, we will meet on the street and you will say: “Hey! Old Haggard Bitch! Dana, is it you??”

    And I will say, “Nap, of course it is me…and I spotted you first..I knew it was you all along.”

  3. Sleep is by far the most frustrating struggle I have had parenting small children.

    At least you’re getting an entertaining look into his mind while you’re up in the middle of the night.

  4. Title of my next book: “why I look like a haggard, 70 year old prostitute”
    All I can say is, it didn’t take long after he started sleeping through the night, to become human again. Every single day of 3.5 years sucked hard. And I far for the future. But for now, I’m a human-esque 70-year-old prostitute.
    Keening like a pregnant cow? By the Hammer of Thor, you need to be writing for 30Rock.

  5. I think I beat you at this no sleeping thing by two months. When Evan slept through the night for the first week, I bought him a toy because I was so thankful. But then you have to deal with yelling in the middle of the night. I just hope Peanut isn’t a sleepwalker like my baby brother is. I summon all my magic and owed-prayers (He knows why) and bless you with one of those mythical babies who sleeps through the night after the first month and continues to do so forever.

  6. “No. No! No! I want to choose!”

    You really ought to let him choose more often. I’m sure his decisions are sound, reasonable and would not lead you to a bottle of wine.

  7. I am now reminding myself to never, ever bitch about Critter’s sleeping, because we are (apparently) incredibly lucky that he sleeps as well as he does.

  8. Dan, you lucky bastard.

    Nap, could you work on getting me that 30 Rock job? If, when I arrived for the interview, I looked like a 70 year old prostitute, would it hurt my chances?

  9. Dan, I think parents are entitled to complain about anything they want. If it feels like crummy sleep, it’s not enough for you, and you can complain. I don’t begrudge anyone a kid who sleeps and I wish everyone had kids who slept brilliantly because it makes for better families. That said, you suck.

    fae, from your keyboard to my uterus. I hope so, too.

    ck, you know as well as I do that most would say P gets too many choices. I love that it actually came out as a full sentence in his sleep. I didn’t make that stuff up. hilarious.

    Kitch, I think looking like a 70 year old prostitute would help your chances, since you think like a 30 year old comedian rocket scientist writer with a terrible attitude. They dig that. I dig that. Hell, most thinking people dig that, and if they say otherwise they’re liars or losers. You old whore, you.

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