If you think this blog is going to be about hospital beds, you’re wrong. I’m overdue, and reminded daily, for a blog about my son. For those of you who revel in my misadventures in parenting, this blog should scratch your itch for a few days.
My son is now three and a half and it’s time (code for his mother is finally ready) for him to sleep alone. Until about three weeks ago, I slept in one bed and my wife and son in another. There have been a few nights that the three of us slept in the same bed but that really didn’t work well. My wife and son must dream that they are WWF tag team wrestlers in a title match with Hulk Hogan and Andre The Giant because the two of them flail endlessly through the night. I don’t sleep well anyway, after all, I’m up most of the night worried about health care reform, Medicaid cuts and all the other boring stuff you read about on this blog. When sharing a bed with two WWF wrestlers, I don’t sleep at all.
My wife finally decided, begrudgingly, that it was time for our son to sleep in his own bed. I knew it would be a battle and I wasn’t looking forward to the process so I left the country. I mean I literally left the country, not because of the decision to break up sleeping partners but I was scheduled to be in Canada on a fishing trip with my Dad and brother when the separation was to occur.
I returned from Canada to find that the two had in fact parted ways and my wife was back in her rightful place in the master bedroom. The only catch was our son was sleeping on the floor next to our bed. It was at least progress and I was informed that the master plan was for him to sleep on the floor for one more week and then move to his bedroom. I was fine with the plan, and it really wouldn’t have mattered if I wasn’t because at this point I’m just along for the ride anyway, though my son did say to me “Daddy, I sure do like this sleeping on the floor stuff”.
A week passed and time came for our son to sleep in his own bed all alone. The night started uneventful enough. At 8:30 pm my wife took him to his room, they read books, said prayers and at 9:00 pm she told him good night and tried to leave the room. That’s when things got interesting. Our son began to cry but it didn’t deter my wife she held her head high and walked out of the room. He cried and cried and cried so eventually she went back to check on him at which point he told her he was “afraid of the dark”. I’m not sure where this new-found fear came from but no matter because she turned on a lamp in his room. He informed her that wasn’t enough so she turned on the overhead light and left.
He cried and cried and cried some more but then he was silent and oddly he closed the door to his room. VICTORY, or so we thought. I thought for sure he gave in and finally went to sleep so I waited a little while to be sure he was good and asleep before I went to his room to make sure he’d covered up. The last thing I wanted was for him to wake up in the middle of the night because he was cold and then have to go through the whole cry, cry cry, “I’m scared of the dark” thing again.
I tiptoed across the house, and noticed that his door was open but he was nowhere to be found! On the way back to my bedroom I had to cross through the living room and I noticed “lump” on the sofa. “There he is” I thought to myself but I was worried about him being cold so I woke my wife and told her that he needed a blanket and I wasn’t sure where to find a spare so I asked if she would go to the sofa and cover him up.
She left our bedroom and then came back a few minutes later laughing hysterically, When I asked her what was so funny she told me that the “lump” I saw on the sofa was a couple of throw pillows and the door we heard shut earlier was the door to the guest bedroom where she found our son asleep on top of the bed. I guess he decided that if we were going to make him sleep alone he was going to be the one who decided which bed he was going to sleep in. Oh well, at least he was sleeping alone!
This went on for about a week, he would lay down in his bed and then migrate to the guest bedroom where he would sleep on top of the comforter. One night last week we decided we would outsmart him and just lay him down in the guest bedroom. I mean why make him get up and move every night, it just seemed counter productive. Well that backfired because he went from sleeping in a pitch black guest bedroom to now being afraid of the dark in the guest bedroom.
The lights came back on, he cried but eventually went to sleep. On the same night we tried to outsmart him my wife and I were in bed and we watched Gabby Douglas win the women’s all around before we turned off the TV and fell asleep. At 3:02 am I woke up to go to the restroom and as I exited the bed I thought to myself, “my wife looks really weird”. I was half asleep so I didn’t think much about so I went to the restroom and when I made it back to the bed I took a closer look at my wife to be sure I didn’t need to call an ambulance or do something to revive her only to notice that my wife was really not my wife. My wife had been morphed into my son’s body.
This gets really confusing so try to follow along here: At some point in the night my wife was having trouble sleeping so she moved to my son’s bed because she knew it was empty because he was sleeping in the guest bedroom. At some other point that same night my son must have awakened and decided he would sneak into our bedroom and try to crawl into our bed without waking us. Little did he know that there was plenty of real estate available because his mother wasn’t there.
I have no idea where anyone is sleeping at my house these days. I’m glad we only have three beds in the house because if there were anymore I wouldn’t know where to find anyone…