The Bright Side of the Dark

Blake is not a sleeper.  He didn't sleep through the night until almost a year old, and now that he's approaching two, he still wakes at night a few times a week.  When he wakes up, he wants me and only me.  It's nice to know he loves me, but at 3:00 AM I'd rather not be the preferred parent.  This is probably my own fault, as I have always insisted on getting the final rock/cuddle before the kids go to sleep at night; they know me as the one that puts them to bed.  There's that, and the fact that Tyler lacked the ability to lactate, which made me the obvious choice to calm a fussy baby in the wee hours of the morning.

Call me crazy, but I think Blake might even have a unique super power: the ability to sense the exact minute when my head hits the pillow.  A radar of sorts; truly, it's an amazing talent.  Whether it is 10:00 PM or 2:00 AM, the minute I get into bed, I hear Blake's cries broadcast over the monitor.  I've tested every possible theory: toilet flushing, tv turning off, foot steps, creaky bed... after manipulating every variable I've determined that he just has some innate ability to sense that I'm going to sleep, and by golly, he's not going to let that happen.  He screams and I freeze, certain that he'll hear me take a breath and know that he's won.  If the crying continues, I rush to his room, hoping to quiet him before Hadley wakes up too.  Although this scenario has repeated itself night after night for almost two years, I'm still annoyed every time I have to get out of bed.   But by the time I return to my room, my attitude has always changed.

Blake is growing like a weed.  Some days I return from work and I'm quite certain that he's significantly taller, older and smarter than when I kissed him on my way out the door that morning.  He looks, acts and talks like a toddler.  He's all boy- rough and tumble, scraped up knees and dirt in his hair.  Stinky, dirty, why walk when you can run.  Yet, in the middle of the night, when we're rocking by the light of the moon, he's my baby again.  No matter how big he's grown, his head still fits perfectly in the crook of my neck, his cheeks are still as soft as the day he was born, and his breath is light and sweet.  He's quiet and still.

Yep, sleep is overrated.