Kane's Bed a la Kane
Here is how Kane now
views his bedroom. He figures he's somewhere down in the fifth or sixth circle, only because his mommy's still a sucker enough to come when he calls for a glass of water or juice. Otherwise, he's down there with Brutus and Judas and whoever the third guy is, who I can never remember. Who else betrayed a best friend? Or would it be a shorter list to ask, who hasn't? I myself would be caught in several circles, I'm sure, like the one for mothers who sometimes secretly wish their kids would take five-hour naps, or the one for people who forego the fruits and vegetables in exchange for fudge covered oreos, and the food pyramid be damned. Oh Jesus, there's one for hoarders and spendthrifts. And one for the wrathful. So of course, I'd be stuck bathing in the River Styx. I bet it'd be sort of peaceful, though, except for the occasional scream from the banks. I wonder if the screamers would be wailing: Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommeeeeeee!"
Anyway, that was a bit of a segue. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens to one's brain when they are sleep deprived. And all because Kane had to go into a toddler bed to make way for Carly, who has been squatting in a porto-crib for two months, having outgrown the cradle Grandpa made her after her first five minutes out of the womb.
I set up the bed on Saturday. Saturday night, Kane was all excited and jumping up and down on the bed - until it got to be bedtime, and then he was wandering the deserts of his room, clutching his blankie, asking for mommy, reading books by the light of his closet, getting in and out, in and out, from 8 p.m. to about 9:30 p.m. Several times, he woke up during the night.
Sunday, I decided to take the kids to a great museum/park in Sausalito, in an effort to really wear him out and get him to take a good nap in his new bed so that he would wake up refreshed and realize his new sleeping quarters weren't such a big deal. Only, he decided to wander, wander, wander like some half crazed cellmate in San Quentin, playing with everything in his room, including the door stopper, which is made out of spring with a rubber stopper on the end, and which makes a powerful SPROIIIIING noise when one incessantly picks at it, as I found out. This went on from 1 p.m. until 3:30 p.m., when he finally passed out from exhaustion.
Sunday night, he fell asleep within five minutes, which faked me out entirely. But I guess it was more of the exhaustion, because when I asked him all bright and chirpy the next morning if he liked sleeping in his new big boy bed, he got all quiet on me and looked down, and it broke my heart, because I could see the wheels turning on in him, and him thinking he knew what I wanted to hear, and he knew what he felt, and it wasn't the same, and he didn't want to displease me, so he opted for the Fifth. So I gave him a big hug and we went to our room (where there is no problem hanging out on mommy and daddy's bed) to watch Zoboomafoo.
Monday, the nap came fairly easily - only about ten minutes of resistence. But then, Monday night, Daddy came home from a business trip, so it was more wandering, wandering, asking for he choo choo, juice, diaper, whatever it took to keep up. He fell asleep after two hours, at about ten o'clock. Phil, who was on East Coast time, fell asleep, too, and didn't wake up all night, which was a shame, really (read: You are a big snoring bastard, and you will pay for this, oh yes. You. Will. Pay.), since I had to experience the multiple disturbances from both Kane's and Carly's bedrooms all by myself. Kane had a nightmare, a full diaper, and a lost binkie, all in separate trips. Carly had two feedings and one bad dream. Mommy had two large cups of coffee and contemplated finding a corner somewhere to cry. I made do instead with finding and then thrashing a particularly nasty-looking spider that had camped out at the end of our back porch and then had the audacity to move in closer with an enormous web near the back door. I figured after seven beatings with a red plastic sand shovel (sorry, Kane), it was goooooood and dead. And I'm sorry to say it, but I felt better, too. It says something about me, yes, but you can keep it to yourself.
Today, there was and hour-and-a-half of wakefulness before naptime came, and tonight, he played quietly for about thirty minutes, only asking me once for juice. He's now out for the count, and I am following suit.
views his bedroom. He figures he's somewhere down in the fifth or sixth circle, only because his mommy's still a sucker enough to come when he calls for a glass of water or juice. Otherwise, he's down there with Brutus and Judas and whoever the third guy is, who I can never remember. Who else betrayed a best friend? Or would it be a shorter list to ask, who hasn't? I myself would be caught in several circles, I'm sure, like the one for mothers who sometimes secretly wish their kids would take five-hour naps, or the one for people who forego the fruits and vegetables in exchange for fudge covered oreos, and the food pyramid be damned. Oh Jesus, there's one for hoarders and spendthrifts. And one for the wrathful. So of course, I'd be stuck bathing in the River Styx. I bet it'd be sort of peaceful, though, except for the occasional scream from the banks. I wonder if the screamers would be wailing: Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommeeeeeee!"
Anyway, that was a bit of a segue. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens to one's brain when they are sleep deprived. And all because Kane had to go into a toddler bed to make way for Carly, who has been squatting in a porto-crib for two months, having outgrown the cradle Grandpa made her after her first five minutes out of the womb.
I set up the bed on Saturday. Saturday night, Kane was all excited and jumping up and down on the bed - until it got to be bedtime, and then he was wandering the deserts of his room, clutching his blankie, asking for mommy, reading books by the light of his closet, getting in and out, in and out, from 8 p.m. to about 9:30 p.m. Several times, he woke up during the night.
Sunday, I decided to take the kids to a great museum/park in Sausalito, in an effort to really wear him out and get him to take a good nap in his new bed so that he would wake up refreshed and realize his new sleeping quarters weren't such a big deal. Only, he decided to wander, wander, wander like some half crazed cellmate in San Quentin, playing with everything in his room, including the door stopper, which is made out of spring with a rubber stopper on the end, and which makes a powerful SPROIIIIING noise when one incessantly picks at it, as I found out. This went on from 1 p.m. until 3:30 p.m., when he finally passed out from exhaustion.
Sunday night, he fell asleep within five minutes, which faked me out entirely. But I guess it was more of the exhaustion, because when I asked him all bright and chirpy the next morning if he liked sleeping in his new big boy bed, he got all quiet on me and looked down, and it broke my heart, because I could see the wheels turning on in him, and him thinking he knew what I wanted to hear, and he knew what he felt, and it wasn't the same, and he didn't want to displease me, so he opted for the Fifth. So I gave him a big hug and we went to our room (where there is no problem hanging out on mommy and daddy's bed) to watch Zoboomafoo.
Monday, the nap came fairly easily - only about ten minutes of resistence. But then, Monday night, Daddy came home from a business trip, so it was more wandering, wandering, asking for he choo choo, juice, diaper, whatever it took to keep up. He fell asleep after two hours, at about ten o'clock. Phil, who was on East Coast time, fell asleep, too, and didn't wake up all night, which was a shame, really (read: You are a big snoring bastard, and you will pay for this, oh yes. You. Will. Pay.), since I had to experience the multiple disturbances from both Kane's and Carly's bedrooms all by myself. Kane had a nightmare, a full diaper, and a lost binkie, all in separate trips. Carly had two feedings and one bad dream. Mommy had two large cups of coffee and contemplated finding a corner somewhere to cry. I made do instead with finding and then thrashing a particularly nasty-looking spider that had camped out at the end of our back porch and then had the audacity to move in closer with an enormous web near the back door. I figured after seven beatings with a red plastic sand shovel (sorry, Kane), it was goooooood and dead. And I'm sorry to say it, but I felt better, too. It says something about me, yes, but you can keep it to yourself.
Today, there was and hour-and-a-half of wakefulness before naptime came, and tonight, he played quietly for about thirty minutes, only asking me once for juice. He's now out for the count, and I am following suit.
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