(Let's just call her the IWT for short. I call her the IWT because she seems to function on less sleep than a frat boy during finals week, yet she never loses her sunny disposition.)
She still has her shoes on. We allowed this at bed time as a compromise--you take the yucky cough medicine, and we won't make you take your beloved shoes off.
|I don't get it, but two of my three girls have loved these shoes so much that they've snuggled them...|
She gulped it down, and only then did we realize it only lasted for four hours. Labels, dang it, are there for a reason.
However, it's 3am, and she's not coughing, so I fall back asleep pretty quickly....
...only to get slammed awake by a solid kick to the mouth with the shoes.
|IWT's favorite sleep position, diagrammed with precision by howtobeadad.com|
I wake her up juuuuust enough to threaten to take the shoes away, and get her to swallow some of the medicine--while she allows the rest to trickle down her cheek, providing an excellent sensory experience as she smears it all over her hands and jammies. After three kids, I know cold wet wipes and late-night clean ups are not my friend, so I turn on some hot water and get a wash cloth to juuuuuuust the right temperature to be soothing, not burning, not cold...and she still screams like I'm raking her face with sand paper.
Finally, we're both tucked back under the grape-stained covers, and since she's wide awake, she's inspired to sing:
IWT: "I'm higher than the ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling. I'm higher than the ceiling..."
Me: "Honey Bear, shhhhh...."
IWT: "But I want to siiiiiiiing!!!" [Starts crying]
Me: "Honey, you can sing when the sun comes up."
IWT : "Ok. I looooove my sisters and Daddy and Mommy..."
Me: "Honey Bear, shhhhhhhhh""
IWT: "I'm not singing!!! Jesus loves me, dormez-vous, dormez-vous, Jesus loves me, dormez-vous...."
I'm too busy giggling to care. I prop myself up with a few pillows, snuggle her in the crook of my arm, and wait to see how long sleepiness will take to settle back in. IWT talks and sing-songs about night time, the snow, her big sisters, that Jesus loves her.
I feel the baby kick hard in my belly, pull up my night shirt, and put her hand on the bumpy spots. "No, mommy, close it! I don't want to see the baby!! Noooo!!"
It took an hour, but she finally succumbed to sleep again.
This is pretty typical. It used to be a lot worse. She used to wake up three times a night, ready to play, to chat, to explore the house. The pediatrician finally suggested benadryl at night--which hyped her up.
I've HEARD of kids getting hyper on Benadryl, but I'd never actually met one until I gave birth to one.
He allowed me to try half a miligram of melatonin for a week, to see if it would re-set her schedule. It seemed to help, but started to give her nightmares, so I only used it for five days.
But at least we're sleeping MORE. At least today is Saturday, and the Mathman let me sleep, got the kids up, gave them breakfast and let them veg out on Netflix-- before they got bored and started making up their own stories about evil witches that want to eat little children and steal them out of their beds in the middle of the night.
I mean, where could they have gotten an idea that their sleep would be disrupted by a cackling hyper active squealing person who laughs at their misfortune?? ;)