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| or, how to ring out the old year when you're an ornery two year old |
3:42 a.m.
wailing from upstairs wakes me from a dead sleep. it's the big bad kind of crying, where you just know someone needs you.
i head up the stairs in a groggy daze, softly calling "hey, charlie, mama's coming," as he howls for his mommy.
his voice sounds oddly close considering the closed door to his room. when i walk into his room, though, he's not there.
the door to the bathroom between john and charlie's rooms is open, as is the door to john's room beyond.
i walk through, and there i find charlie on his knees in desperation in his brother's room.
best i can tell, charlie woke up, and decided to get brother. but when he went to brother's room the bed was empty - because john was sleeping in the teepee across the room. devastated that he couldn't find brother, charlie just howled.
john slept as i collected charlie, closed the appropriate doors, and carried my sobbing little man into his bedroom. we nursed until i thought he was asleep. as i started to transfer him to his bed, though, he said, "me go downstairs with you." and a new round of howling began when i said no.
after trying the nursing and then transfer routine two more times, i thought we'd attempt to go downstairs and sleep in my bed. last weekend in baton rouge he successfully slept with us for the first time peacefully, so i thought there was a chance he'd doze off and we could sleep some more.
no dice.
as wiggly feet kicked daddy and busy hands swatted elle belle in my face, i decided we were going back upstairs.
the whole way up the stairs, he wailed, "please me go downstairs with you!" and the nursing and transferring routine failed again.
by now, i'm exhausted. i put him gently in his bed, told him i love him, and it's night night time. i exited the room as he screamed. before i hit the top of the stairs, i heard his door open and the howl: "me go downstairs with you!"
picked him up, put him in bed, tucked him in, told him i loved him, waited outside the door. ten seconds later, "me go downstairs with you!" as the door cracked open. we repeated this routine easily ten or 12 times.
finally, his behavior showed me just how exhausted he was. so we tried, one more time, the nurse and sleep process. and oh thank heavens, it worked. it worked! the kid was peacefully asleep. i crept back to bed, glancing at my clock ... at 5:42 a.m.
2:30 p.m.
daddy was home with us all day today, though i had a good bit of work to do. i also had a lunch date with a good friend, so daddy was home with the (napping) boys while i went out for a couple hours.
when i returned in the back door, i heard a voice from the direction of my bedroom. "me watch daniel tiger on daddy's ipad," said little charlie.
i didn't think much of it - in fact, i figured daddy was laying down on the bed next to him for a little rest, and had charlie watching some netflix to keep him occupied.
as i hung my purse, the little voice came again, "me watch daniel tiger on daddy's ipad?" and i realize charlie was asking, not telling. so i walked toward my bedroom, noticing first that there was no daddy on the bed, and second that charlie appeared to be lacking pants.
"where's your daddy?" i asked.
"me don't know, my daddy!" said charlie.
i walked closer to him, and as he stood up to hand me the ipad, i noticed he was not wearing a diaper either. i thought to myself, this is definitely not good.
glancing at the bed, i was pleasantly surprised to find no puddles. so i scooped charlie up to take him upstairs for a diaper, asking him again where his daddy was.
as we walked up the stairs, i noticed a faint poop-like smell.
"did you poopoo?" i asked charlie, assuming that maybe he'd gone in a diaper that he'd removed.
"right there!" he exclaimed gleefully, pointing to the second-to-the-top step.
sure enough. a pile of poop.
i glanced into the media room, and i found daddy. i brought the naked savage into the media room and said, "um, daddy? look what i found?"
it seems that while the boys napped, daddy had decided to use the well-deserved break to play some halo on his new xbox one. dutiful dad that he is, he had the sound turned low and was listening carefully for any action from the boys room.
what neither of us had anticipated was stealth charlie, who without saying a word or making a peep had climbed out of his bed, gone into the bathroom, removed his pants and his diaper, peed in the potty, headed downstairs, stopped to poop on the steps, and then sat on the bed to watch ipad.
"me sit on your pillow!" charlie reminded me excitedly.
a little cleanup and re-diapering and a load of laundry later, all was well. but jeez louise.
4:30 p.m.
i was in my office wrapping up my work.
big brother was still asleep, and daddy and charlie had been hanging out watching football.
daddy took a bathroom break.
in that break, stealth charlie struck again: he found a marker, colored the kitchen table, colored most of himself, colored the face of daddy's ipad, found a bag of sidewalk chalk, carried it upstairs, and colored on the carpet.
seriously, that fast, and that quiet.
hurricane charlie is a silent and dangerous storm. the terrible twos are awesome.
happy new year!
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