Well, we've been back at home for two months now and we're still having sleeping issues. I've been trying really hard to get more sleep and for about a week or two, it was working out pretty well. Lucian was finally starting to sleep in his room, in his bed for an entire night. I finally started accepting that and taking advantage of it. Now he's cutting his second molars and getting up and coming into our room each night – again.
I'm blaming it on the teeth. It makes me feel better.
We've been co-sleeping with him for so long now that most times we just give in and pull him into bed with us. Sometime we even have a little step stool by the foot of the bed that he can use to climb up and tuck himself in so we can sorta still sleep undisturbed...kinda...well a little more than actually having to wake up all the way and pick him up. The step stool is now in the 2nd bathroom (Lucian's bathroom) in front of the toilette and I'm tempted to purchase another just to keep at the side of the bed!
I'm convinced that sleep is for the dead.
Sleep — it's just not for me. Passing out from exhaustion for a few hours, maybe, but sleep...I just can't get it to stick unless medicinally provoked.
Despite how much I joke about loving being high on Benadryl, I really loathe taking pills or having to rely on any type of chemical to make me do what I should be able to do naturally. You know, like normal people. I envy people who can just fall asleep. Just lay their head on the pillow, close their eyes and drift off. I envy people who can breathe with pollen in the air. I envy people who can wear or touch wool. I envy people who can naturally coexist with furry animals and not break out in hives or have an asthma attack. I welcome the sanctuary of my little bubble of existence in front of the computer where most times my mind stays too busy to sneeze or feel miserable. All my problems seem to slip away temporarily. If it weren't for having to tend to a toddler every couple of minutes, I might forget to eat or go to the bathroom! I might actually finish blog posts instead of starting and stopping and forgetting what I originally intended to write about.
So, anyhow, I'm grumpy because when he sleeps in bed with us — he sleeps — we don't. He's a bedhog.
There is a foot in my face, an arm across my neck, another hand tangled in Daddy's hair.
A couple of times now, I've been successful at moving him to the pack-n-play after he's fallen asleep when I can't take it anymore. We've moved the pack-n-play back into our bedroom to get it out of the living room. Normally it's reserved for time outs. He doesn't seem to have a problem sleeping in it with his pillow and blanket because I think he just likes being near us. Sometimes I've even been able to put him back in his own bed, but nothing is consistent.
For as grumpy as I am though, I love this little boy more than words can express. I kiss him and hug him constantly. Which, by the way, is why I don't wear lipstick hardly ever anymore. It always gets kissed off! He lets me snuggle him, but since he's a toddler, you know how they are about their body buffer of space. So, I suppose being tired is the tradeoff for being able to snuggle him more while he's sleeping because he doesn't squirm then.
Every night he sleeps with us, I always hug him and kiss him and tell him what an extremely loved little boy he is and how lucky we all are to be together as a family in the same bed. Afterall, it's only temporary and other people aren't as fortunate.