Friday, September 10, 2010


These are actual texts I sent from my phone in the past few days.

"I am going to disown the two year old."

"Someone was awake and terrorizing the house all night. He has no off switch."

"He's like a zombie baby coming after me. He's so tenacious I could scream."

"I'm terrified that this is just the beginning."

Yes, things have been sliding downhill at our house since Seth broke his crib. I set him up in a pack n play and it worked well at first. Then he learned out to pull up the mattress, stuff plush animals underneath, and use it as a ramp to escape.

So I took away all of his animals. Then, in sheer rage, he leapt over the side of the pack n play and learned how to turn a door knob, and ever since, none of us have slept.

I seem to remember moving Ava to a toddler bed when she was eighteen months old. Obviously I was crazy.

Seth is nearly 26 months old and he is like an evil imp in the night. He's given up his naps completely, and every afternoon I basically sign on for tossing his bootie back into bed no less than a hundred times before I give up in frustration. The horror has snuck up on first, he napped okay, and slept well. Then the naps went away but he was still tired enough at night that he would pass out and sleep the night.

Last night was a nightmare. After a non stop day of school, lunch out, therapy, and soccer practice, we got home at 8 and I put all the kids down. I thought Seth would pass out quickly. He had been going since 8 am, kicking balls like it was his own personal soccer practice, and he should have been exhausted. No nap. It should have been a good night.

And yet. The kid was out of the pack n play before I could make it to the door more times than I can count. It was after ten when he finally gave up the ghost and went to sleep, and I finally got to work on a math test that's due this week. I kept getting distracted by different things and I was up late. Just as I laid down, I heard it.

The door swinging open. That kid was awake. I tossed him back down a handful of times and just when I thought it had finally worked, I heard it.

The shrieking.

The gleeful, maniacal shrieking of a two year old on the loose. I ran in the direction of the noise and found Seth jumping on Ava and Jace's beds. Yelling. Screaming. Generally making mayhem. Throwing a party and inviting his brother and sister along.

iIt was three in the morning. Thanks to Seth, now all three of them were awake and he had terrorized not just me, not just the kids, but he tortured the hamsters, too. This morning I found a baby bottle, an action figurine, and a piece of bread in their cage.

He is out of control.

He finally gave up, and I don't even know what time it was. I refused to look at the clock. But I know the sky was much closer to gray than black, and I know that our 7:30 alarms found Ava, Jace, and I a little less than ready for the day. Seth, however, was up and a maniac. Bossy, yelling, and if I asked if he was tired he just shouted "Mo, Mo, MO!" (That's his version of No)

After school drop off, I came home on a mission. Something had to give. I could not survive one more night like that one. I'm 28. I'm not 18 anymore...I can't pull all nighters and live to tell the tale. And all the scowling seriously at him to get him to go back to bed is giving me the worst wrinkle between my eyebrows.

If I hadn't just given away that dog crate Seth may have found himself napping in it.

Instead, though, I broke down and tracked down another crib for him. He's just not ready for the freedom of a bed, and I need sleep. I am not a fun person to be around without my beauty sleep, people. Seriously. And while I'm waiting on that crib to get here, thank goodness I managed to track down our old travelcot that has a zipper top.

I giggled delieriously to myself the entire time I was putting it together, smiling brightly at Seth as he examined the bed. "Oh, Seth, you are going to hate this! But I? I am going to love this. LOVE THIS, Seth!" He raised his eyebrows at me like he kind of knew I was losing it.

 At naptime, I marched him into his room, put him down, zipped the netting up, and walked out. he screamed bloody murder at me for two minutes, shaking his fists at me through the mesh on the sides, but then...suddenly I heard it.

Blessed Silence.

He was out cold. He slept for three hours and when I headed in to release him from his den, he was smiling and happy.

Victory. Validation. I'm smarter than a two year old!

We will all sleep well tonight. Which is good, because one more night like last night would have done me in.
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