A Bedtime Story…

So, I would like to talk about my son and how he would not go to sleep last night. First of all, back story: we are living at my husband’s parent’s house during the week since we are both working in a new town and it is way to far from where we live to drive it everyday. We are currently in contract to buy a house. My in-laws are awesome. I just want to throw that out there. They are so gracious to take us in during this transition, and to help with our little devil. Anyways, we are kind of living in the basement and having to share a room with our dear Liam, and well, we can just say that last night was really difficult.

It was Nick’s night last night to give Liam his bath and put him to bed (yay), but it was NOT all glitter and rainbows when we retreated to the bedroom about a half an hour later (like 8:30, don’t judge), to go to sleep ourselves. No sir! There sat sweet little Liam in the middle of his bed (a twin bed with rails), mumbling and looking like he was waiting on us to come back in. CREEPY!! Nick and I shot each other nervous glances and proceeded to lay down ourselves, hoping that Liam would do the same. HAHA. Not even a chance.

I could see his silhouette towering over the rail above my face, and I could hear both his heavy breathing and him sucking hysterically on his pacifier. It was kind of creepy, not going to lie. I just kept my eyes closed, trying not to laugh, hoping he would catch the hint. Then I feel the inevitable… He went to the bottom of the bed, where there is a gap between the rails, and jumped over to our bed. It was ON.

He came up to me first, and slapped me in my face (this is not the first time in the dark that he has done this, mind you), and proceeded to ride me like a horse. Then he hopped on over to daddy and began a smothering technique with his body over Nick’s face. I could hear Nick’s muffled laughter as Liam continued to stick his fingers in Nick’s ears, and who knows where else. Finally Nick had enough and took Liam back to his bed.

Round two: He climbs out again, but taking a different route: on the floor, around the bed. This time he was pulling movies off the shelf (how can he see to do this?!?!), playing with Nick’s belt, and wearing Nick’s shoes. I went and put him back in bed this time, but it was only in vain. He was right back at it before I could get my head on the pillow. I was mad this time, so when I picked him up, I gave him a few swats on his leg, not on the diaper where it would just pad the smack, but the leg so that he would feel a little bit of a sting through his pajamas. This did nothing but made him laugh, and he laughed harder with each swat. I had to put him down because I was laughing quietly and so was Nick. I gave up.

After a few minutes of terrorizing the room, I got up, went and unplugged the night-light to make it pitch black and I rocked him. Rocked him hard. He was asleep! I could hear the hard breathing! YES! But then, as soon as I got the little shit down, he popped right back up and started talking, yet again. Deep breath, Momma! Nick also tried rocking him with the same results. Nope… Not happening.

I finally just climbed in the bed with him and held him down until he fell asleep. He fought a few times, I yelled really loud once (with choice words that woke Nick up and then he was pissed), but he finally settled down. At around 10:30 (two hours later, if you weren’t counting) I finally fell asleep. And woke up in a cramped twin bed with a wild-sleeping child.

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