Speaking of Interruptions...

Mr. Sandman has left the building.

In fact, I think he straight up ran, never to return, despite our best efforts that even involve bribery, trickery and straight up begging.

For more than three weeks now, our “read a few books, throw in a snuggle, lights out and he’ll sleep for 12-14 hours solid” kiddo has turned into something more of a soldier on night duty required to stand at attention every 45 minutes starting at 12:45 a.m. Though in this case our little soldier demonstrates more fear, anxiety and racing thoughts than an aura of protection…

Like clockwork, he now takes hours to put down, pulling out all the stops, his eyes dancing wildly as he brain shakes out the remaining thoughts of the day.  After heroic efforts (if I do say so myself), he wakes between 12:45 and 1:15 a.m., then consistently for about every 45 minutes as if he’s demonstrating an exorcism.

Needless to say it’s not good for his health, our marriage is being put to the test and our house? Might as well be condemned due to neglect. But my career? Thriving. Because really, why bother getting two hours of sleep in a row when you just have to interrupt it soon after. Might as well grab your laptop and get through your 250 emails of the day…

But this isn’t about me, it’s about him. It’s about returning him to the comfort that was once his world, showing him there can be peace found in the stillness of the night and that dreams can provide a vivid picture to what the universe can hold into the future. It’s about teaching him independence and trust in him, while also reminding him that no one will love, protect or be there for him more fiercely than his Mommy. It’s about teaching someone as little as two to understand fear and anxiety and helping them cope with limited skills and understanding. It’s about balancing that fine line of baby-toddler-preschooler consistently without tipping off the wire time and time again, only to start all over again. And it’s about loving unconditionally, while also trying desperately not to let your love get in the way of what’s best for your child. And I’m certain it’s about persistence, patients, grace and kindness, though we’re finding we have to dig deeper and deeper to explore that.

In other words: it’s complicated.

Seriously? I’m the gal all the other gals call or email at 2 a.m. for sleep tips. I have worksheets I dole out, Facebook messages I copy and paste and swear by Weissbluth’s secret, passing it along time and time again to Moms who hit this stage with their wee ones.

But mine? Not so wee anymore. Mama’s in a whole new ballgame. And I’m losing desperately.

I’m not going to lie: it’s incredibly lonely. And maddening. Sometimes I find myself nestled on the staircase of our home, torn between wanting to bawl my eyes out, punch a wall, crawl into bed with him or just get in the 4Runner and drive until I was lost in an abyss of quiet and solitude where no one at all needed anything from me and where slumber could find my eyelids. At social events I fight to keep a smile plastered on my face, terrified that if I share how tired and stressed I am over this small issue that I will be deemed a terrible mother and person. After all, I remind myself time and time again that this too shall pass and that I will mourn these days where he actually wanted to be in my arms at every waking hour. And that it’s not cancer, poverty or any of those things that are significant. And that when another child blesses our lives, this may be the case again (though I remember mostly waking every 2-3 hours?!) When the negativity settles in I pray it’s from fatigue and blame it on the theory that less than three hours of sleep a night for weeks at a time is truly a form of torture, which is why my spirit seems to be slipping so far from my soul…

And sometimes I think that’s what this is all about and something I knew I’d struggle with: I’m terrified of him growing up. After all, isn’t growing up quite a bit about stripping innocence, leaving the nest and having your heart hanging out to the world and its people in the most vulnerable of states? I can’t imagine what I want to protect him from more…

I know I’m no longer making sense. In fact, it’s a symptom of this wakefulness that has become so much a part of our daily (nightly?) routine. And I feel incredibly guilty sharing it with the universe because, after all, it really isn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. This seems like more of one of those Johnson County/white wine/ get some perspective situations, but I gotta admit, it feels a bit more in some moments. (Hand me a violin?)

So, what do you think? Did your 2.5 year old go through this? How long did it last and what worked for your family? Because I think we’ve tried it all, yet days turn into nights that turn into days which have quickly led our family to function as if we’re auditioning for parts on “The Walking Dead.” And I don’t mean the hot guy with the 5 o’clock shadow that’s always saving the crew…

What’cha got peeps? How do we return our son to healthy sleep habits so he can be a happy child?

Calling on you, Mr. Sandman…