Wednesday, July 23, 2008

How do YOU Sleep?

Last night I was feeling particularly fidgety and Andy had to be up at 3:30am to catch a flight, so I decided to sleep on the couch. I slept with the baby monitor right next to my head since Calvin has been waking up every hour, on the hour for the last week or so. Strangely, last night he didn't wake up at all. I wonder if it's because our bedroom is right next to his, and maybe he hears me moving all night and it wakes him up. Who knows?

Anyone who has ever shared a bed or room with me knows I'm an awful bed-buddy. I toss and turn, I kick people, I have to have my covers between my knees, my pillow right under my head, but not touching my shoulders, and my feet cannot be covered. I also grind my teeth and talk in my sleep. On two separate occasions, roommates of mine have woken up freaked out because they woke up to me attacking their feet in my sleep. No idea why I have foot issues in bedrooms, probably some weird thing from my childhood that I don't remember.

Andy is just the opposite. I took this picture in 2006. It amazed me then, and it amazes me now that he'll just lie down flat on his back, fold his hands over his chest like he's in a coffin, and then doze peacefully to sleep without moving or waking up until morning. In this one he had just come home from an eye exam (hence the freaky vamper-like appearance with his dark glasses) and decided to rest his eyes for a bit. He didn't even wake up when I kept clicking the camera.

I think Calvin will be more like me. He wakes up when the sprinklers come on, when a plane flies overhead, when we flush the toilet, or just whenever he feels like it. Unfortunately I can't quite bring myself to be tough and just let him scream it out until he falls back to sleep. I always wait a few minutes like this time I'm going to be strong and let him learn, but in the end I always cave and go rescue him.

Especially lately, it's so sad. He's always either standing up in bed staring at the door with tears streaming down his face, or else he has his soft blanky pulled over his face as he sits in bed doubled over, sobbing dejectedly into his lap. What kind of monster mother would I be if I didn't just go pick him up and rock him back to sleep at least 7 times a night?