A mother of the year’s (scary) nighttime confession
posted by: Amber Johnson
In preparation for a Halloween party last Friday, I trolled music videos on YouTube. I found many classics like Monster Mash and Ghostbusters but the king of them all is, of course, Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
My kids gathered around my computer. My 10-year-old Hadley was so engrossed she watched it twice while 8-year-old Bode was nervous but I wasn’t worried. Though he’s never seen a horror movie, he has no problems with Lord of the Rings and that’s way scarier, right?
Here’s how our evening played out.
9:40 p.m. I passed out early from exhaustion.
10:30 p.m. Daughter wake-up call.
Her: “Mom, Bode is crying.”
Me: “Why are you awake?!” (She had just recovered from a two-week stint with enterovirus-turned-pneumonia.)
Her: “I’m not tired.”
Me: “GET TO BED, NOW.”
10:31 p.m. Trudge to Bode’s room. He’s still asleep but obviously freaked out and crying. Soothingly hug and pat his back, whispering “it’s only a dream.” He quiets down.
11:05 p.m. He starts crying again. Mother of the Year lovingly calms him. At least The Daughter is finally asleep.
Midnight-ish Crying con’t. Maybe if I pretend he’s not crying, he’ll stop. Negative.
12:15 a.m. Bring him into my bed. Snuggle him tight as he falls into a feverish, Thriller-induced slumber.
12:20-1:55 a.m. Every 10-15 minutes, he cries out then goes back to sleep.
2 a.m. More crying, more soothing. Resolve I’m too old for this. How do women in the 40s handle newborn all-nighters?
2:15 a.m. He starts kicking me in his sleep. Gently move him away.
2:25 a.m. Fat Kitty abandons us, citing “at least one of us needs to get some sleep.”
2:30 a.m. After yet another shout-out, I am DONE. I scoop him up in his arms and carry him to his bed. Close the door.
2:33 a.m.-6:20 a.m. I finally get some sleep.
7 a.m. Bode wake-up.
“How are you feeling today? Do you remember your bad dreams?”
“No, not really. But how did I get into your bed last night?”