Ok. We've made it past the halfway mark. First, I'll answer a few of your questions and then give you an update.
Q: Dude, have you heard of this invention called a baby monitor?
A: Baby monitor? Is that some fancy word for a sitter? Oh, wait – you mean that white thing that sits on our dresser that Ella uses to listen to Zed! See, the volume on that thing doesn't go up to Air Siren, so it's pretty much useless to me. VERY sound sleeper.
Q: Dude, Zed's almost a year old. He should be sleeping through the night! (That's not really a question, but I'll answer it anyway.)
A: Yes, he should. We had Zoey sleeping through the night at three and a half months. When we took Zed to the doctor for his three-month checkup, we inquired about weaning him from his night feeding(s). The doctor told us that since he was so big, he needed to eat more than most babies, so we were to feed him whenever he asked for it. We asked again at six months, same reply, only he added, "We'll wean him after he becomes one." I tried to broach the subject again at nine months, same reply. Sixteen more days. Sixteen more days.
Anyway.
Thursday was just like any normal (if there is such a thing) day around here. But at about 6:00 PM, the realization kicked in that I was on my own for the night. Ugh. So I made the kids their dinner, played with them for a little while, and then began my plan of attack for bedtime.
At 8:00 PM, I put Zoey in the den in front of the TV and let her watch a Dora DVD (Teacher, Mother, Secret Lover indeed! Babysitter, too!). I gave Zed his bottle, rocked him to sleep, took Zoey upstairs, gave her a bath, and read her two bedtime stories. Both children were in bed by 9:00 PM. It was almost too easy!
It was too easy.
Zed awoke at 10:00 PM, an hour earlier than usual. I fed him but he was still crying, slamming his pacifier against his mouth. He does this when his gums are bothering him, so I gave him some Orajel.
Then I got it in my head that I gave him too much Orajel and he was probably going to OD. My mind is a terrible thing (MIM, if you're reading this, I don't remember if you're going to be treating adults or children, but if you switched coasts I could so totally make you rich. Or perhaps we could set up IM sessions and I could pay you with Starbucks gift cards? Just a thought.). So I held him while I watched him breathe television until 1:00 AM. I figured if he was going to OD, it would've happened by then, so I put him to bed.
I awoke at 7:05 AM Friday morning to the sounds of Zed screaming and Zoey calling out to me. I have no idea how long either was awake. I do know that Zed had real tears streaming down his face and his eyebrows and face were blood red, so I assumed he had been crying for roughly sixty-four minutes. I suck.
I managed to feed the kids and take Zoey to preschool. We went to Target that afternoon because it was raining so I couldn't take them outside to play and let some of the other parents in the neighborhood help me watch them for a while.
At 5:30 PM, it was time for Zoey's gym class. Normally, it wouldn't have been too big of a deal to take both kids by myself. However, this was her first class of the new semester and instead of taking solely gymnastics, she's taking a dance/gymnastics class. Which meant I had to put her tap shoes on when we got there, put ballet shoes on her fifteen minutes later, and strip her down to her bare feet for gym class fifteen minutes after that. I felt like one of those people (don't know the actual term) waiting backstage at a Madonna concert to help her shove her boobies into a pointy bra during a costume change.
Of course, those people (costume changers?) don't have to deal with a squirming baby in their arms who refuses to sit in his stroller because he wants to get on the ground and crawl around but his father will not let him because it's a hard linoleum floor that's had eighty pairs of sweaty toddler feet running on it all day. Those people probably get paid more as well. Plus, they get to touch Madonna's boobies.
But I digress.
We did the same bedtime/bath time routine that worked so well Thursday night, only with a new twist: it was Campout Night at the Cynical Dad household. We all slept in the same room: Zed in a Pack 'N' Play, Zoey on the couch, and me on the recliner. Zed woke up at midnight and 5:00 AM and I was able to get to him both times before he woke Zoey. Victory! A night in the recliner (and a sore back!) is a small price to pay for peace of mind.
So here we are today. Both kids are currently napping. I'm a little cranky and v-e-r-y tired. I know what you're thinking. Dude? You should be sleeping right now. See, if I take a nap, even a fifteen-minute one, I'll be awake until 3:00 AM. Sucks.
It's still raining, so we won't be able to go outside to play. They've watched entirely too much television, (in Zoey's case) had too much junk food, and are beginning to despise me. But we're surviving.
And did I mention I have to take them to a birthday party tomorrow afternoon? Save me.
GHS: 10 (the max)
Everyone's Still Alive! And Relatively Sane! That's A Good Sign, Right?
