The Bedtime Battle!

There are nights when Andy is reluctant to go to sleep. This reluctance is illustrated by a refusal to lay down in his crib, so he stands in the corner nearest the door, aims his face out into the rest of the house, and howls a panicky cry that insinuates he's being eaten alive by wolves. On these nights, I have to call Chris in for help. When Andy is fussy about sleeping, Chris is the more successful one at soothing him down. I can only imagine what goes on in that room since I try to stay away and avoid being a distraction. I imagine Chris whispering vivid threats into Andy's sweet little ear and scaring the child to sleep, and I also imagine Chris lovingly half-smothering our beloved son into slumber. You know what I mean- putting a pillow over Andy's face just enough to kind of knock him unconscious but not enough to do any permanent, lethal damage.

Last night was one of those nights when Andy was "reluctant" to go to sleep. And Chris wasn't home, so I had to deal with it on my own.

It may have been my own fault. I let Andy sit at my computer for a few minutes before bed while I ran down to get his cup of milk. Andy was watching an Elmo video on You-Tube. I'm not going to lie- I think I heard Elmo call Oscar a c*ck-sucker, so it may not have been an authorized "Sesame Street" video, but Andy seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and that was good enough for me. I let the video run out, and then I tried to coax Andy into his room for some milk, a bed time story, and eleven glorious hours of sleep.

Andy wasn't having it. I had to literally drag him away from the computer and hold him down in our reading chair while he struggled to get away from me. He wanted more Elmo on You-Tube, and not even his favorite books were good enough to calm him down. He escaped from my grasp a couple times, running back out into the loft and pointing up at my computer while moaning, "Mama." You may or not remember me mentioning this, but when Andy says "Elmo," he's basically saying "Mama," which is supremely irritating since Elmo doesn't even have a uterus, much less one that Andy came out of. The only muppet I know that has a uterus is Grover, but that's a long story for a different night.

Finally, Andy finished his milk, we finished our books, and I turned out the lights. I like to sit in the chair and hold Andy in the dark for a few minutes before laying him down in his crib as a way to transition him to sleep. This time, our usual night time cuddle minute was cut short as Andy leaped away from me and bolted to his bedroom door. He paused at the door once to look back at me as I glared at him through the pale glow of the night light, and then he continued to scoot out the door, slowly as if he could possibly sneak away from me in stealth mode while I watched his every move.

Out of the bedroom, into the loft, up to my computer, asking, "Mama?"

"Elmo's sleeping," I said, lie number 36,832 I've told my son. "You can see Elmo tomorrow. Andy has to go to sleep, too." I hefted him into my arms, feeling a twinge in my gut from the other baby, who was most likely thinking, "She thinks this is annoying? Wait until there's two of us!"

Back into Andy's room, where I gently put him down in his crib with his various blankets and singing glo-worm. He immediately rolled over, stood up, and held out his arms to be picked up. He began crying.

I kissed his head, tried to get him to lay down, and backed out of the room.

Andy screamed for five minutes straight while I played three hands of Words With Friends.

I went back into Andy's room and did the one thing I know you're not supposed to do. I picked him up. He clung to me like a spider monkey, then struggled to get away, clearly gunning for Elmo. I put him back in the crib. Up he shot, but this time the screams and cries were even louder.

I left the room, went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of milk, and ate four cookies. Upstairs, Andy wailed away. His screams were louder and more urgent than before. I sighed, climbed the stairs, and peeked into his room. Sure enough, he was standing in the crib, aiming his face out, sobbing as if he had one of his legs stuck in a bear trap.

"Maybe there's something legitimately wrong with him," I suddenly worried. "Maybe I shouldn't have eaten those four cookies so slowly." I entered his room and stared at him for a second. He reached out for me, moaning, and I picked him up. I checked his diaper, which was fine, and felt his forehead, also fine. But, I knew instantly those weren't the problems. Andy had stopped crying the nanosecond I had lifted him up. He curled against me, this time content just to be held and uninterested in escaping to You-Tube Elmo Land.

"Shit," I thought. I held him for a few minutes, rubbing his back and swaying gently. Then I put him back down in the crib. Screaming commenced instantly. I told him good night, which I'm sure he didn't hear over his wails, and left the room.

Andy cried and screamed for another ten minutes. After ten minutes, I peeked into his room. He saw me and screamed louder. I uttered another "shit," wondered if there was any chance I could get Chris to come home, and then decided that the only way we were going to get through this was if I truly ignored him. I double checked that the baby gate at the top of the stairs was locked and then took a quick shower. The sounds of my sons screams were then muffled by the running water and by my own voice, which was tunelessly singing Liz Phair's "Perfect World." "I want to be cool, tall, vulnerable, and luscious. I would have it all if I only had this much!"

I got out of the shower and, lo and behold, Andy was silent. Or close to silent. There was the sound of light sniffling coming from his room, which made me bite my lip for a second, but then- nothingness. For a moment, I worried that maybe something had happened to him. I threw on my robe, tip-toed to his room, and peeked in.

He was laying down, looking asleep, his head crammed into the corner of the crib closest to the door and his hands dangling out between the bars as if to try and reach me while I was in the bathroom.

Good enough. Although, I'm relieved that Chris will be home tonight...