I have prided myself on my ability to admit when I don't know something about raising a child. I'm clueless, and I'm a worrier and I over-think things. So I admit that I read books with a feverish fear of screwing M up, and then I feel better. I have faithfully worried about M ability to sleep well from the time he was only 8 weeks old. He responded really well to the ploys from Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. I followed the rules, age appropriately, and found myself enjoying a sleep schedule. Joyous occasion!
I've enjoyed this schedule, though it has changed as M has grown, nearly every day of M's sleepy little life. Of course there was the flu in winter of aught 6, and the 2-3 times he decided to shock us by falling asleep at 8pm (gasp! not the usual 7pm!) after the time change. But the vast majority of nights have been uneventful, confident sleep routines that end with a sleeping ball on the TV screen of our baby monitor. And jokes about how cute he is, and shouldn't we wake him up and play with him? ha ha. But even when we joked about it, laughing heartily, it always managed to trail off into a nervous remembering chuckle of when he was younger. Colicky. Not so sleepy. We the parent zombies. Yikes.
Well, let's just say that all those jokes caught up with us. Maybe it was karma that was coming to collect it's rightful dues. Maybe it was M's understanding of our conversations, more than we realized. No matter the reason, last night was a roller coaster of worrying-mother emotion. The Boy pushed himself so far by the time we went in to get him, that he (luckily) ended up with "utter astonishment" and "head-shaking exasperation" and even "giggling tiredness" as his mother's prime emotions. Had he given up earlier in the night, he may have chanced upon some "frazzled patience" or even some "loving frustration".
Those of you who might hear this and think, "Ha! It can't be true. We've met M and he's a lovely, mellow child not capable of such shenanigans!" must please view the picture I have attached as proof of said shenanigans. I rest my case. And just in case you can't read the sticker I placed on his pajamas, it reads: "It's 11:39pm and I'm awake. And did I mention I'm a stinker?" You'll notice the content look on The Boy's face as he happily counts to three with me while we take the picture.
In an unrelated incident, I thought I would point out that M is generally getting in touch with genes I may or may not have given to him in terms of pestery hi-jinks. It's just good natured curiosity. And if it isn't the funniest thing I've seen since M has been born.
I have to admit that I'm a little bit proud of this imaginative whirlwind. My mom always joked that I would get a crazy kid after all the silliness and energetic activities she had to put up with. Even R seems somewhat pleased that I'm getting what I deserve.
But the joke's on them! I think it's funny, and even a little impressive. Not to mention a source of pride, that one so young would want to follow in his mother's fun-loving footsteps.