|Lucky little shit.|
It's such a cliche, the tired mom thing. We never get enough sleep, we're always on the move, the kids wake us up wanting stupid things like water and blankets and love; I feel silly sometimes, complaining about how tired I am, but MAN am I tired. I remember when I was pregnant with Child 1, I read the book Operating Instructions, and it started this three month long panic attack about how tired I was going to be and what a nightmare that would be, because I'm one of those people who need a lot of sleep, and I used to get it, before the children, and the image of this exhausted new mom in this book just completely put me over the edge.
So, how it works here is that we all go to bed in our own beds, and then during the night Child 1 will come in and climb into bed with us. But I can't sleep when he's there, so then I get up and go into his bed. This doesn't sound really all that bad, because I always go right back to sleep, except he always 1. LANDS really hard on the back of my legs or something thus jolting me awake in a total fucking panic and 2. always seems to come in the middle of a deep REM cycle, which is the worst time you could get woken up. This has been happening every night for 5 1/2 years now.
In the beginning, I was a total sleep nazi and he was the best sleeper EVER. He slept through the night at 3 weeks old, he was that good a sleeper. And I wish so much that I could play the autism card here, because kids with autism are notoriously bad sleepers, and even though I sometimes do when I explain this to people, the real problem here is bad parenting. Yeah, I pretty much did this to myself. So, he was the greatest sleeper ever, and my fears about being like whatsherface in the book never actually happened ... until we moved him out of the crib and into the big bed, when he was 3 and I was pregnant with Child 2. I was already not getting enough sleep, being ginormously pregnant, but once he got into the big bed, and realized he didn't actually have to stay in his bed if he didn't want to, is when he started coming into the room with us. At this point is where I should have taken control of the situation and trained him to go back into his room, but... no. I fucked that up, I guess, because now he's conditioned to climb out of his bed and come into ours the minute he first stirs. And I have no idea how to make this better, except just wait until he's older and doesn't want to come in anymore. I figure I only have about another 1 1/2 years, maybe 2, right? I mean, I've "lasted" this long, what's another couple of years....