I’m laying here. On the floor of his bedroom. He’s nestled into my side, his head on my shoulder, my arm wrapped around him. He’s wide awake.
He was exhausted this afternoon. He fell asleep on the couch around 5:30. I tried to get him up. He refused. He was exhausted. I let him nap.
Then life happened. I got busy, Mama came home from work… I fed Jonny his dinner, had some spaghetti, picked up the house.
Still he napped.
And napped.
9pm rolls around. Bedtime. He’s still asleep on the couch. In a wet pull-up.
A decision must be made. There are no good choices.
We either let him sleep, 99% sure he will wake up at least half a dozen times, with a possibility of a meltdown…
Or
We wake him up to go through the bed time routine. New pull-up. jammies. The whole bit. (Crap, he hasn’t EATEN anything has he?)
Like I said. No good choices.
I have chosen to wake him up. I don’t know if thos was the correct choice. I don’t know that there IS a correct choice here.
He was not happy.
I tried to ask if he was hungry. He screamed at me. I left it at that.
Thankfully he let me change him.
But he was disoriented. We messed up the routine.
Dinner? HA!
Brush teeth? HA!
I made a sippy cup spiked with melatonin…he still hasn’t drank it.
I put him in his bed… with a full sippy cup. And he can’t fall asleep.
So here I am. Laying on the floor. It is now 2 hours later.
I am not sure how much he will sleep tonight. I’m not sure IF he will sleep tonight.
Whatever the case, our fates are entwined.
The routine is off. Meltdowns are more likely when the routine is off. And he hasn’t eaten.
Breakfast at 2am is a real possibility.
Crap.
And it’s all my fault. For letting him nap.
(On a positive note, this is the longest post I have mostly typed with one thumb EVER).