Shut Up, Go To Sleep

Song: My Kind of Love-Emeli Sande

I finally got Henry (2 1/2) down at 9pm. Two hours past his bedtime, the only thing that made me feel better was the thought that "at least he will sleep through the night- for once." 

How often my mind misguides my emotions. My emotions misguide my mind? Either way.

At 11 o'clock I was reading, finally! Danny was watching TV, when we heard a low cry. It was an indecipherable cry. One we pretended wasn't happening at first and then I muted the TV to see if it was our youngest and not a cold, frightened outdoor cat. By 11:01 there was no doubt the noise belonged to us.  He was wailing. What was going on with this poor baby? Normally he started howling at 4am.  

Bummed, I cannot find the original artists name to give
credit this idea, but it wasn't mine! I just made a version.

"I think he wants you," I said.
"Why?" 

"Because he's yelling 'Daddy'," I said. 

Danny went to Henry's room. It got quiet. Then I saw Danny holding Henry outside our door. He was shielding him from the view inside our room in case I balked. Henry started crying again. 

"Oh, yea," I said. I realized what was being weighed and waved him in. Poor guy. (Make it stop.)

He has started coming into our bed. Not enough to call it a habit, but he's started. I know from our older two that it can go either way. Our oldest came in every night until he was five, "Oh, what's the big deal? It's not like he's going to climb into bed with us when he's 15? Let's enjoy it." I said. Kicking. That's the big deal and it happens way before 15. It starts hurting, shocking you out of sleep, when they're over a foot and a half. And the sleeping sideways is the big deal. They sleep sideways so you're scrunched hanging onto the edge of your bed like a rock climber in the middle of the night. It's not enjoyable. Breaking bad, wasn't easy. It took until he was five to give First Born the heave hoe. Then our middle guy came in maybe twice? Now, occasionally once a month if that. I can deal with the kicking and the sleeping sideways once a month because the rest is so precious. However, the few times Henry's come in he has plopped down into the middle of our King sized bed and crashed immediately, never moving. What could be easier? I love easy. Especially when I was about to find out if Hardy moved in with The Irishman *. 

Henry wiggled his way to the middle. His eyes were closed. But instead of a quick conk- he quieted down for about fifteen seconds. Then he started yelling at us, cranky old man style yet with a lisp and a poor grasp of consonants. 

"Turn off the TV! Turn it OFF!" His eyes remained shut tight. We started laughing. Having a two year old yell at you is funny, a two year old yelling at you behind closed eyes to go to sleep is ridiculously funny. "It's not funny! Turn it off!" We stopped laughing. Poor Henry. Little boss man. It's so hard to be taken seriously. Handle With Care...

"Off!" he begged. 

I was reading* so it was no sweat by me. Click. Off. Danny looked at me like, thanks. 

Half a second went by where he seemed soothed, when another demand was issued. 

"Stop it. Thstop it. Turn it out!" He barked, pissed off. "Shut off! Turn off the light!" 

"But Henry, I'm reading," I said, in my most gentle soothing way (= annoying.) "We brought you in here but-"

"SHUT UP! Shut up the light and sleep!" he said. 

Did lil homey just tell me to shut up? Nah, he got that confused. He meant "shut up the light." Whatever "shut up the light" means, it makes more sense to me than my baby angel telling me to shut up. We never say shut up. We think it. 

"But I don't want to, I want to read-" 

"SHUT UHP!! Shut up and stop it! Go to sleep," he demanded. "Do it!" 

Okay, that time it

Creeping to coup

was clear. He told me to shut up. But he was crying and screaming so I felt bad for him and a bit scared. 

Well, I was a little sleepy.  

Without looking back at Danny or Bossy Pants, I switched off the lamp. 11:04pm.**

I woke up at 4am. Terrified of the Stalin reincarnate sleeping between us, I was afraid to move. I could not risk calling his name, but I think Danny came to at about 4:30am. When he whispered my name in a tone that begged not to get his ass kicked by our two year old, I was relieved to have a comrade. After a few rounds of barely audible whispers, we forgot about the sleeping dictator and went over his putting us down for the night.  "Unbelievable, did you hear him tell me to shut up?" "That was the funniest part," "Not really, I mean, it was funny but it was kind of sad. A baby saying shut up?" "Oh, please... Shut up." Haha. "Thstop it."It was nice to be able to laugh without getting yelled at. 

Henry slept until 6am. Our voices woke him. He was smiling, kissing us, laughing, glad to be in bed with his folks.  Us glad we were back to being his favorite people, us glad he'll always be ours, us glad I will never wave him in again. :) 

*(If you're looking for a great read-The Imperfectionists By Tom Rachman)- Let me know what happens with Hardy. Her name tells me it won't be easy.

**All told, it took him 4 minutes to get us to sleep. All this time we've been reading stories, telling stories, getting water, a blanket, a bear, singing, dimming lights, turning up lights, getting into bed with them- when all we had to say was, "Shut up! Stop it and go to sleep!" Abusive, maybe, and sure it lacked a certain tenderness but genius in its economy of time and with such clear directive. Hmm, something to consider.