And so I give you a tale of misery in the wee hours of the morning.
Prologue - It is 8:30 pm and all is well. Two little boys are sleeping peacefully, the youngest sated with the appropriate dose of ibuprofen. A father and mother are happily, well more like resignedly, washing dishes and folding laundry. Lulled into a false sense of security, the parents will stay up too late; one reading geeky science articles on his ipad and the other writing a fairly useless blog post.
12:30 am - With too little sleep yet accomplished, we awake to cries of "Need My Mommy!" that quickly build to a intolerable level. Realizing that neither of us is fooling the other by feigning sleep, we quickly negotiate who will "take this one". Hoping to give me a much needed break, Bill heads in.
12:45 am - Bill returns from the from the den of our screaming child saying, "He bit me!". But, not yet ready to give up, he regroups and goes in for another round.
1:00 am - Oliver wakes up and begs, "Please make it stop!" He flees from the racket and dashes down the hall and into bed with me. We huddle together and try to tune out Emory's cries.
1:15 am - Bill continues in vain to soothe Emory. I hear him repeating the phrase, "you can rock with Daddy or get back in your crib", like a mantra. But Emory is not having any of it. He begins to emit a sound that can only be compared to the oink of an angry pig, causing Oliver and I to giggle. Bill is not amused.
Somewhere between 1:30 and 2:30 am - Oliver and I somehow manage to fall asleep. Poor Bill continues to battle with our little one, until he (Emory) finally falls asleep as well.
2:30 am - Bill tries to get back into bed but is discouraged by the kicks of the wriggling little boy who has taken his place. He heads downstairs to sleep on the couch.
3:00 am - Emory wakes up AGAIN and Bill repeats his efforts to soothe the child. I would have stepped in at this point, but somehow, ignoring all motherly instincts, I have managed to block out the cries and sleep on.
Around 4:00 am - Bill heads back downstairs to his makeshift bed on the couch.
5:15 am - The screams begin yet again and this time I respond. As I rock and rock...and rock my child, a feeling of dread washes over me. I have just realized that Emory is not going to back to sleep. Oh no...
5:45 am - I return him to his crib anyway and, as expected, he announces that he is ready to "get up now!". I try to reassure him that it is still nighttime and time to sleep, but he senses the fear in my voice and calls my bluff. Unable to get him to even sit down in his bed, I toss in a couple of books and a flashlight. Hoping that this will entertain him for just a few minutes, I sneak away as quickly as I can.
6:20 am - Fresh cries of "Need My Mommy!" blast through my fledgling dreams. Bill springs Emory from his crib, and he launches himself down the hall and into bed with Oliver and I. Then, we hear the words we least want to hear after the night we've had: "Let's play superhero!". Even Oliver, always ready for a good game of Spider man and Super Baby, throws the covers back over his head. But he's a good sport and eventually crawls out to don his cape and join is brother.
6:30 to 7:00 am - Clinging to my pillow for dear life, I am pummeled by little feet and deafened by gleeful shrieking. I am completely disoriented by the incongruity of the present scene with the turmoil of the past night, but reluctantly crawl out of bed.
7:30 am - Tired and frustrated, I allow my children to eat popsicles before breakfast.
This scenario has played itself out in varying degrees, nearly every night for the past month. Poor Emory has never been a great sleeper but this teething thing has pushed him (and us) over the edge. Unfortunately, I am going to have to resume my many nightly peregrinations to and from the rocking chair. Emory loves his Daddy, but can't be comforted by him at night. Given the amount of screaming heard in our house last night, now is clearly not the time to make a change. I comfort myself with the knowledge that this will pass, but in the meantime, heaven help us.
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