This morning, around 7:45 am, as Bug, Squish, and I were getting ready to leave for the day, Bug had a fit. He did not want to go to school. He wanted to stay home. He wanted my husband to appear magically transported from his job back at home.
When we managed to get outside, about ten feet closer to the car and the ultimate goal of starting our "new" day, Bug looked at the melting snow in the yard and started to cry/yell: "I don't want the snow to melt! I DON'T WANT THE SNOW TO MELT!"
Why was sweet Bug freaking out?
Because none of us slept for more than an hour at a time last night.
In Bug's case, he was having some major growing pains. He woke up several times complaining about his knees. I offered him ice packs, water, back rubs, and cuddles. When he woke up in distress at around 12:30 am, I offered to take him to the couch and sleep with him out there. (For whatever reason, sometimes a change of "scenery" helps to break a cycle like that for Bug.)
We were just getting settled into a night on the couch by the draftiest windows this side of the Mississippi when I heard Squish coughing.
Then I heard a puke-type sound.
So, at around 1 am, I jumped up and ran to Squish. Yes, he had been puking. In his bed. On his pillow.
Poor little bub was uncomfortable and so, so confused.
Bug started to call out for me. So I sent my husband to the couch and started the process of cleaning up a sad little Squish. PJs changed. Face wiped clean. New paci. Very quickly, he was in a good mood.
I set him down in the other bed in his room. He requested that I change the sheets in The Puke Bed - which was a good call. Thank goodness for advice from two-year-olds.
I stripped his bed and put everything in the washing machine at 1:30 am.
I came back upstairs and tried to say goodnight to Squish, who requested that I sleep in the now stripped bare toddler bed next to him. So, I grabbed the comforter from my empty bed (Bug and my husband were on the couch) and envisioned sleeping on a tiny mattress for the rest of the night. That was foolish.
Around 2am, I thought Squish's breathing sounded like sleep breathing so I went back to my bed and envisioned sleeping on an enormous queen sized mattress for the rest of the night (i.e., four hours). That was also foolish.
Squish sensed my absence quickly and called out. I grabbed him and brought him into The Big Bed. Squish asked, "Where's [Bug]?"
I said, "He is not feeling well, so he and Daddy are on the couch."
Squish accepted this answer and curled up next to me.
Soon enough (at 3? at 3:30?), Bug started to call out in distress about his knees again.
Squish looked at me and said, "[Bug] is crying like a baby."
I said, "He doesn't feel well, love. He is crying, but Daddy will help him."
Squish seemed to think this through and then said, "Be quiet, [Bug]!"
I said, "Sweetie, he is upset. Let's let him work it out."
But Bug was not working it out, and he was calling for me. So I switched places with my husband and curled up with Bug on the couch.
An hour later [at 4? 4:30??], Squish called for me and was not happy. I looked at Bug, who was finally fast asleep. I kissed him goodnight and went back to The Big Bed.
Again, I switched places with my husband. I cuddled Squish to sleep, and stayed that way until [sunrise??].
At around [6:30??], Bug's little face was next to mine at the side of the bed. He wanted to climb up into The Big Bed, too.
Bug, Squish, and I were a pile of very tired people until 7, when I realized that I needed to be in the office for a 9 am call.
Wish us luck today - our tired little family needs it.