Sleeping like a baby

Without enough sleep, we all become tall two-year-olds.  ~JoJo Jensen, Dirt Farmer Wisdom, 2002

Sleep is something I never truly appreciated until I never got enough it. When I was younger, I fought against it with every ounce and fiber of my little being: "Mommmyyyyy, just five more minutes... Mommy, I need a drink of water... Mommy, I need to go to the potty..." and the list ran on. My absolute worst enemy was 8:00 pm. Upon reaching adulthood, I have discovered an appreciation for the night time battles that my parents waged against myself and my siblings. I am also constantly amazed at the ingenuity and variety of Ellie's excuses to stave off the inevitably of bedtime. She seems to believe that bestowing an extra round of hugs to humans, animals and inanimate objects alike (think "Goodnight Moon" only with hugs) will somehow turn back time. She also has the idea that discovering an urgent need to brush her teeth again or developing a new found concern for Maya's lack of water in her sippy will somehow delay the horror that is bedtime. Her favorite excuse is always prefaced by "Mommy just ONE more question..." and is followed by a random, rambling, and stammered off the wall question. Needless to say, this is NOT the last question of the night and this performance is repeated at least five to six more times before she finally realizes the inevitable. Thankfully Maya and Kiki are still stuck in their cribs and are unable to pop in and out of their rooms like a jack-in-the-box's like their older sister.

Whoever coined the phrase "sleeping like a baby" obviously never had a baby, either that or they were trying to be ironic. Because not only do children never stay asleep, but they sleep all over the place, in the most interesting positions. Ellie has provided us with endless entertainment in this area.

Once she has realized that she had lost the battle of bedtime excuses, she wanders all over the house in her sleep. More than once, I have woken up in a panic because she wasn't in her bed only to be reassured when I find her (several panic stricken, heart stopping moments later) curled up in a corner, or closet. There have been several memorable moments where I have found her sitting upright at a table fast asleep or awkwardly perched on the landing or at the foot of my bed. Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to weird squeaking noises. I was fairly certain that we weren't infested with large rats (or R.O.U.S.'s) so I gingerly peered over the side of my bed. In my sleep deprived state, I had forgotten to take into account my daughter's nighttime meanderings and she had stumbled in at some point and was half way on my bed, squeaking away in her sleep. This was infinitely preferable to the giant rats of the Princess Bride variety.

According to family lore, the sleepwalking is inherited. As a child, I would stagger around the house and declare sleepily: "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom" (all the while doing my version of the frantic potty dance). Luckily for my parents, all they had to do was steer my little self in the right direction and I would take care of my business and scamper back to my bed. Granted they would find me lost in rather interesting  places such as behind their bedroom, bathroom, or closet door (I seemed to understand the door concept). But at least they always found me in time.

As we get older, sleep becomes a precious commodity that we treasure more and more. What was once our greatest enemy is miraculously transformed into our best friend. I suppose we always want what we can't have. And someday, my children will understand the true value of sleep and give their right arm to have someone send them to room for a nap.



Unfortunately, it does seem to be genetic.