Every few months, the Little Man seems to go through a growth period and during this time, his sleep gets disrupted.
He normally sleeps very well (he takes after his mama) but during times of growth or transition, everything will go haywire for about a week. During that week he will be hyper and anxious during the day, chatting a mile a minute, and then restless at night. He will wake up at around midnight-1am, tell me he is scared and climb into our bed.
Since we bed shared from the beginning, he's always been welcome in our bed, even though it results in worse sleep for us as he's gotten bigger. I am more concerned about his rest than mine, and he likes to take over my pillow and then sleep with his legs on top of me. I usually end up with sore muscles from hanging off the bed and not being able to move. But such is the life of a mama.
So it's no big deal when he came in at 1am and said, "I'm frightened in my room, I'd like to try out yours." Lovely. Come on in! He tossed and turned and squirmed and I asked him if he was ok. He said he was fine.
Around 4am, I wake up to him crying. "What's wrong?"
"NOTHING!" he screams out into the dark, like a petulant teenager. "Nothing" is his upset response when he loses his words. "Nothing" is like the "I'm fine" of some women. It means there is something very wrong, but so wrong it cannot yet be expressed.
"You're crying, you seem upset," I tell him.
And in between sobs, he begins to tell me about a dream he was having with a slide and a bucket. Mama and Dada were there. The bucket was pink and black and brown...and he lost it.
"Now I can't get it back because I lost it in the dream!" he wailed.
"Oh my goodness, that IS upsetting!" and I tell him I understand. I tell him he will have to go back and look for it.
"But how?! Now the dream is gone and I can't ever go back!"
"Well, you just have to believe you can go back. And then you make a new dream and go back and get it."
"OK," he says, still crying.
I tell him, "we will go back to the dream together and I will help you find it. I know you can do it!"
And he fell into a deep sleep in search of his bucket that was pink and black and brown, and oh, so dear to him.
He normally sleeps very well (he takes after his mama) but during times of growth or transition, everything will go haywire for about a week. During that week he will be hyper and anxious during the day, chatting a mile a minute, and then restless at night. He will wake up at around midnight-1am, tell me he is scared and climb into our bed.
Since we bed shared from the beginning, he's always been welcome in our bed, even though it results in worse sleep for us as he's gotten bigger. I am more concerned about his rest than mine, and he likes to take over my pillow and then sleep with his legs on top of me. I usually end up with sore muscles from hanging off the bed and not being able to move. But such is the life of a mama.
So it's no big deal when he came in at 1am and said, "I'm frightened in my room, I'd like to try out yours." Lovely. Come on in! He tossed and turned and squirmed and I asked him if he was ok. He said he was fine.
Around 4am, I wake up to him crying. "What's wrong?"
"NOTHING!" he screams out into the dark, like a petulant teenager. "Nothing" is his upset response when he loses his words. "Nothing" is like the "I'm fine" of some women. It means there is something very wrong, but so wrong it cannot yet be expressed.
"You're crying, you seem upset," I tell him.
And in between sobs, he begins to tell me about a dream he was having with a slide and a bucket. Mama and Dada were there. The bucket was pink and black and brown...and he lost it.
"Now I can't get it back because I lost it in the dream!" he wailed.
"Oh my goodness, that IS upsetting!" and I tell him I understand. I tell him he will have to go back and look for it.
"But how?! Now the dream is gone and I can't ever go back!"
"Well, you just have to believe you can go back. And then you make a new dream and go back and get it."
"OK," he says, still crying.
I tell him, "we will go back to the dream together and I will help you find it. I know you can do it!"
And he fell into a deep sleep in search of his bucket that was pink and black and brown, and oh, so dear to him.
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