On Friday night, Lumpyhead slept straight through from 8 p.m. to 6:30 a.m. Bump and I would have woken on Saturday morning confused by our well-restedness, but Bump didn't get home until 3 a.m. after softball turned into a party which turned into a poker game.
While we missed the chance at a full night's sleep, we were giddy with the boy's sleep pattern. Perhaps he had finally settled back into a routine after the Minnesota trip. Maybe we've gotten past the constipation and the teething. We delighted in the start of a new, fabulous nighttime schedule.
(Stop laughing at me.)
(I mean it, stop it.)
On Saturday night, Lumpyhead proved he was just teasing. He woke up at 3:00 on Sunday morning, screaming his fool head off.
When I retrieved him, he pointed "out," so I took him out of his room. Then he pointed to the kitchen, where I offered him a drink of water. He batted the sippy cup away, and grunted in the direction of the dining room table. He pointed at the box of cheerios, which I picked up, revealing the veggie poofs* I had hidden behind the box earlier. (If he can't see them, he'll stop demanding them. I'm so clever.) He grunted and pointed insistently at the veggie poofs.
"Seriously?" I asked him. "You want veggie poofs at three in the damn morning?"
We sat on the dining room floor and he ate veggie poofs. He was so sleepy he had trouble guiding his hand into the canister, but he happily shoved poof after poof into his piehole.
"This is seriously fucked up, right here," I told him, as I handed him more veggie poofs.
With perfect timing, Lumpyhead farted at me in response.
I sat on my dirty carpet, downwind from baby farts and powdered sweet potato, in the middle of the goddamn night. "My, isn't motherhood glamorous?" I thought. "And I'm signing up to go again."
At 4:30, Lumpyhead finally submitted to going back to bed.** I placed him in his crib, where I'm sure Lambie has a bong stashed somewhere. That animal is a bad influence.
*I don't know why we call Gerber sweet potato puffs "veggie poofs." It's probably Cartman's fault.
**He woke up again at 5:00 and 6:30.
9 comments:
yeah, I've decided to banish the word "routine" from my vocabulary. Whenever the Pumpkin sleeps through the night we consider it a fluke.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but still am that you had the presence of mind to photograph lumpyhead about to make a deal. What will the feds think?!
Just had my morning phone-check-in-from-work with la dra, and she told me to tell you that this post should've been called...
"Chew."
I laughed, but only when you got to the part about your farting, pouf-eating Lumpyhead.
I think we're one of the lucky few, because The Boy usually sleeps through the night. Although lately he's been teething, which means middle-of-the-night screaming fits. (Why Hello Neighbours, just torturing my son). I empathize with you totally.
The puffs are like baby crack. They just can't get enough of that stuff.
if they're made of veggies then they must be good for you, right? If I can get my 11 month old to eat anything at all, it's a major triumph, thought I'd prefer it wasn't at 3am.
I laughed... out lod... loudly... at work. Dang, Lady, you're gonna get me in trouble here.
ROTFL! Ahh good times....
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