Tonight, I am not bathing.

Preface: This will be an overly dramatic post.

Tonight, I am Smokin’ Joe Frazier after 15 rounds with Muhammad Ali.

In the blue trunks, Tired Mom.  In the white trunks, Hurricane Miles.

In the blue trunks, Tired Mom.               In the white trunks, Hurricane Miles.

I may or may not have humbly bragged about what an awesome sleeper our son can be.  I will give his awesome sleep score a 90%; no baby gets a perfect 100%, and if a parent tells you that, they’re not telling the truth.  Fact.

Do you know what happens when you humbly brag about your Cry It Out Wonder Baby?  Oh, things like teething, growth spurts, a wonder week, and the very general “WHY IS EVERYONE LEAVING ME IN HERE? IT’S TIME TO PLAAAY!”

It started about a week ago; normal bedtime routine, normal bedtime, no changes, except Miles’ new desire to pull my hair during our last song (maybe he has something against Jimmy Buffett).  This escalated into face-bopping, which in turn evolved into his attempt to hurl himself out of the rocking chair.  Every. Single.  Night.  We still put him to bed, awake, as normal…and he still falls asleep on his own.  But getting through those last 10 minutes of the bedtime routine is a killer right now.

I can see some parents shaking their heads out there, wondering why I’d complain about something as silly as ten minutes of getting my nostrils fish-hooked by a toddler.  Well, I’m not done.  Additionally, he has started waking up two or three times a night.  Not crying, not upset, not fussing…sitting in his crib, playing. This goes on for 5-10 minutes, then he’s back to sleep.  Lucky him, because we are most certainly wide awake.  Now we’re having fun, right?  Good, because to make sure we’re really having a super awesome great time, we’re going to wake up at 5am every day.

My thoughts…the 5am thing started this week, after I had a conversation with Miles about it being totally okay if he didn’t want to get up at 5:30a (the thing we started last week).  Herein lies the problem: I did not specify that I wanted him to sleep later than 5:30a, just that he didn’t need to choose that as his desired time of awakening.  Silly mom.

This kid is still happy as a nun in a bingo hall.  No fuss, no whine, no crying (except when the teeth begin tearing through his gums, those bastards).  So I really really shouldn’t complain.  I don’t think I’m complaining…does it sound that way?  I’m totally not, I just love to share and TMI you to pieces, knowing that one day my adult children will appreciate this documentation of our lives.

Tonight, I am tired.  I have been up since 4:45a (when my spidey senses told me something was about to happen).  I have done my chores after my eight hours behind a desk.  I have spent hours chasing our son; rolling balls, pulling the cat’s tail out of his mouth, stacking cups, getting pieces of banana out of his nose (all awesome things, by the way).

And so, when mom time finally rolled around, I was faced with two options…take my usual nighttime shower, or one of these:

Eeine, Meenie, Miney, Mo...

Eeine, Meenie, Miney, Mo…

After 15 rounds, the winner is…

UNDISPUTED CHAMP

UNDISPUTED CHAMP

Tonight, I am tired.  Tonight, I need a foot rub and a bowl of Cab Sauv.  Tonight, I am not bathing.  Moms, some of you are nodding in solidarity and approval of this choice.  I raise my glass to you.

Cheers,

K

PS – Thanks to my awesome hubby for quickly using his ESPN-Jeopardy brain to tell me about one of the most epic boxing matches of all time.   Frazier won in the 15th round.  I am Smokin’ Joe.

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