Night Time Stair Master

Notice: This is based on actual events, however the names have been changed to protect the innocent… and the not so innocent.

Last night was rough. Having gone to bed at 1am due to an insane amount of charting that needed to be done, I was exhausted. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I was out.

And within minutes of falling asleep, I heard it.

The familiar grunting and squeaking that could only mean one thing. The child, hereinafter referred to as “Baby,” was stirring.  With lightening speed I scooped him up, lifted my shirt, and prepared to spend the next 10 minutes serving as his personal pacifier since I somehow managed to have the three children in the world who refuse to use a pacifier or their own thumb to soothe themselves.  Despite my pure exhaustion, I stared at him by the glow of my cell phone and snuggled in, for what I had hoped would be at least one hour stretch of sleep.

But Baby had other plans. Just as I was about to drift off, he ripped away from his ahem, ‘pacifier’ and nuzzled into my arm, smiling in his sleep as he did so.

Ouch.

Relieved to no longer be needed, I gently placed him in his bed next to me, threw the covers over me and passed out.

As I slept, I dreamt.  Dreams of quieter days, where I was able to eat lunch without being interrupted to assist someone in the bathroom, where I was able to shower without the curtain being opened in order to kiss a seemingly non-visable boo-boo, and where I was a size 4 and married to Channing Tatum.  (Hey. I said I was dreaming.)

But in the midst of my quiet marital bliss as Mrs. Tatum, I heard it. Again. Only this time it was calling my name.

“Moooooooom? Mooooooom? Mooooooooommy?

I sat up in bed and darted up like stairs like a cheetah, hoping to reach Child #2’s room before the next “mooooooom” escaped her lips, knowing full well that it would continue to get louder and louder until she would inevitably wake the other two up.

After the ‘cover toes with blankie’ mission was accomplished, I managed to quietly sneak back into my bed without startling the sleeping baby by my bedside.

Thank God.

The alarm clock read 4:07am. Three hours. I have three more hours. Fall asleep. Fall asleep NOW. C’mon. Fall asleep. You can do it. Fall asleep. I clutched my pillow and desperately tried to fall back into my dream.

At 5:09, a louder voice called out my name. This time, short and to the point. “MOM! I HAD A BAD DREAM! MOM! MOM! MOM”

Again, I flew up the stairs, this time less like a cheetah and more like a rhino on a mission, as I crashed into the handrail and tried to quietly yell back “shhh! For pete’s sake, don’t wake your brother and sister!”

At 5:12, mission “there are no such things as monster fairies” was accomplished. (Although I suspected that a debriefing with Child #1 would still be in order the following morning.)  I sluggishly made my way down stairs and then crept back into bed, with the utmost ninja-like skills, again trying not to wake Baby who was stirring in his bed.  My head hit the pillow and I moved at snail speed to cover myself up, careful not to make too much noise as I adjusted my comforter. I realized I was holding my breath while doing so, scared that the slightest noise would completely waken Baby as he tried to go back to sleep.  It was when I let my breath out that I heard the pitter patter of little feet make their way to the top of the stairs.

Seriously? Do they plan this? Do they somehow know the exact moment I get comfortable and then chose to wake up?

For the third time, I ran up the stairs, ushered Child #2 back into bed and reassured her that no, it was not time for breakfast and she had not missed it.

Down the stairs once more, I did not even bother to be quiet. At this point, what did it matter? I threw myself into bed and waited for the pure exhaustion to take over. All the while I couldn’t help but wonder, “if I am running up and down the stairs so often, why the hell isn’t my butt smaller?”

I got a glorious two hours of sleep until I was awakened again. This time, the all too familiar sound nearly brought me to tears.

Put, put, put, put, pfffffffft.

Sure enough. Baby had shit his pants.

Rise and shine Mommy.