Nighttime parenting.
Jun. 10th, 2008 10:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaI fell asleep on the couch at around 8:30 last night, just after putting Alex to bed. Woke up long enough to drink a bunch of water and take my medicine, and went upstairs to bed around 9:30.
Which was good, I guess, because it meant I'd had just about a full night's sleep when Alex woke up at 4:30am.
"I can't find my water!" she bellowed. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard, hoping she would find the damn sippy cup and go back to sleep. No luck. "I can't find my WATER!"
I stumbled into her room and retrieved her cup from the bottom of her bed. "It's the middle of the night, Alex," I said. "Drink your water and go back to sleep."
Back to my own bed. Moments later: "FILL MY CUP!"
Into Alex's room again. Her cup was indeed empty, and given that it had been 100 degrees all day long I couldn't argue with her need for hydration. I opened the door to her bathroom - my God it was sweltering in there, without air conditioning - ran the water until it got cold, and filled her 4oz nighttime sippy.
"I mean it, Alex. Go to sleep. It's the middle of the night. I was sleeping."
Back to my own room. My head had barely hit the pillow when I heard "My tummy hurts!"
Stalked back into her room. "Alex. Do you need to go potty?"
"I need to be held," she tried. This might've worked if she'd seemed more pathetic, but instead she was sparkly-eyed and energetic.
"No. It's the middle of the night. This is my sleeping time. This is Papa's sleeping time. Does your tummy hurt because you need to pee?"
She cocked her head to one side and sparkled up at me. "Why do you have something in your eye?"
"What? Okay, no. Listen, Alex. I was sleeping. If you need to go potty, I will help you. But we're not going to have a conversation. It's the middle of the night. EVeryone in Baltimore is sleeping. We're not going to talk."
She beamed at me. "We could whisper."
"NO. We're not going to whisper or talk. You can sleep, or look at your books." I picked up one of her nighttime paperbacks, which had fallen on the floor, and put it next to her pillow.
"No, it doesn't go over there, it goes over here," she said, whisking it from one side of the pillow to the other. "I changed them around. Now I keep them on this side." She went on in this chatty vein as I stumbled back to bed again. I had barely closed my eyes when I heard:
"I HAVE TO PEE!"
I led her into her sweltering hot bathroom, yanked her pajama bottoms down, put her on the toilet.
"Hey, it's so dark!" she said, looking out the window.
"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "That's because it's the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT."
"Would you turn the light on?"
"No. We don't turn the light on in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT."
The night sky finally seemed to make an impression. Because as I cleaned her up and put her back in bed she said earnestly, "I'm not going to talk anymore. I won't even whisper. I will just lie down and drink." I re-filled her cup, which was already mostly empty, gave it back to her, and went to bed.
I lay in the dark, waiting. And waiting. But there were no more urgent calls, and eventually my muscles started to relax, bit by bit, and I went back to sleep.
At 5:45, she woke up again. Not calling, but crying. I hurried in to her. In marked contrast to my previous visits, this time she squinted at me through barely opened eyes, looking dazed.
"My skin is off! Part of my skin is off! Someone... someone took my skin off!" she sobbed.
"Your skin is all here. Your skin is okay. You're okay. Your skin is here." I patted her back soothingly. After another moment or two, she flopped over on her stomach and fell instantly asleep.
Me? Not so much. It's a good thing I got my sleeping in between 8:30 and 4:30. Because yikes.
Which was good, I guess, because it meant I'd had just about a full night's sleep when Alex woke up at 4:30am.
"I can't find my water!" she bellowed. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard, hoping she would find the damn sippy cup and go back to sleep. No luck. "I can't find my WATER!"
I stumbled into her room and retrieved her cup from the bottom of her bed. "It's the middle of the night, Alex," I said. "Drink your water and go back to sleep."
Back to my own bed. Moments later: "FILL MY CUP!"
Into Alex's room again. Her cup was indeed empty, and given that it had been 100 degrees all day long I couldn't argue with her need for hydration. I opened the door to her bathroom - my God it was sweltering in there, without air conditioning - ran the water until it got cold, and filled her 4oz nighttime sippy.
"I mean it, Alex. Go to sleep. It's the middle of the night. I was sleeping."
Back to my own room. My head had barely hit the pillow when I heard "My tummy hurts!"
Stalked back into her room. "Alex. Do you need to go potty?"
"I need to be held," she tried. This might've worked if she'd seemed more pathetic, but instead she was sparkly-eyed and energetic.
"No. It's the middle of the night. This is my sleeping time. This is Papa's sleeping time. Does your tummy hurt because you need to pee?"
She cocked her head to one side and sparkled up at me. "Why do you have something in your eye?"
"What? Okay, no. Listen, Alex. I was sleeping. If you need to go potty, I will help you. But we're not going to have a conversation. It's the middle of the night. EVeryone in Baltimore is sleeping. We're not going to talk."
She beamed at me. "We could whisper."
"NO. We're not going to whisper or talk. You can sleep, or look at your books." I picked up one of her nighttime paperbacks, which had fallen on the floor, and put it next to her pillow.
"No, it doesn't go over there, it goes over here," she said, whisking it from one side of the pillow to the other. "I changed them around. Now I keep them on this side." She went on in this chatty vein as I stumbled back to bed again. I had barely closed my eyes when I heard:
"I HAVE TO PEE!"
I led her into her sweltering hot bathroom, yanked her pajama bottoms down, put her on the toilet.
"Hey, it's so dark!" she said, looking out the window.
"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "That's because it's the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT."
"Would you turn the light on?"
"No. We don't turn the light on in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT."
The night sky finally seemed to make an impression. Because as I cleaned her up and put her back in bed she said earnestly, "I'm not going to talk anymore. I won't even whisper. I will just lie down and drink." I re-filled her cup, which was already mostly empty, gave it back to her, and went to bed.
I lay in the dark, waiting. And waiting. But there were no more urgent calls, and eventually my muscles started to relax, bit by bit, and I went back to sleep.
At 5:45, she woke up again. Not calling, but crying. I hurried in to her. In marked contrast to my previous visits, this time she squinted at me through barely opened eyes, looking dazed.
"My skin is off! Part of my skin is off! Someone... someone took my skin off!" she sobbed.
"Your skin is all here. Your skin is okay. You're okay. Your skin is here." I patted her back soothingly. After another moment or two, she flopped over on her stomach and fell instantly asleep.
Me? Not so much. It's a good thing I got my sleeping in between 8:30 and 4:30. Because yikes.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 03:27 pm (UTC)Because I really need what little sleep I get.
Though I remember how secure I felt as a child, knowing that my parents would be there if I needed them, even in the wee small hours.
So I go. And I bite my tongue.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-11 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-11 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 09:43 pm (UTC)Sleep. It's almost impossible to appreciate until you've been deprived of it.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-11 03:44 am (UTC)I have bigger water bottles (32oz one now full of rehydration fluid), but I can't lift them while I'm lying in bed and I'm way too lazy to sit up. Oh, and a bottle to start with is because cats tend to knock glasses over.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-11 04:14 am (UTC)broken sleep
Date: 2008-06-14 12:24 am (UTC)So I can't even reassure you that it passes.
Emma
Re: broken sleep
Date: 2008-06-14 01:28 am (UTC)I hate having to wake Alex up for nursery school. Yesterday as soon as I sat down on the bed and shook her gently, she said "I want you to stay for six songs." She thought I was touching her to say goodnight, and that I was getting ready to start her lullabye CD. It took forever to convince her that it was actually morning. "But we just read stories!"