I'm not sure whether this is a story about my sainthood as a mother, or about my daughter's crazy love for her special blanket. You decide.
It all started with Mikayla having an accident in her bed around 12:30. Quite unusual, so it's understandable I suppose that it sent her into hysterics. We had the loud, dramatic sobs and huge crocodile tears the entire time I was stripping her and the bed of pee-soaked clothing.
Which, have you ever tried to change a fitted sheet in the dark? Talk about an exercise in kinesthetic skills and spatial visualization. Throw in a wailing toddler who is awake after midnight, and you've got one seemingly never-ending experience on your hands.
Back to Mikayla, though. Poor girl! She was simply clinging onto me and would not stop crying. She usually climbs into her bed eagerly when she's tired, snuggling down under her....uh oh. That would be the problem. In the heap of wet laundry were her Special Blanket and her animal friend pillow. And she does. not. sleep. without Special Blanket. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, end of story.
What's a momma to do??
Well, I'll tell you what this Momma *attempted*:
1. Mikayla begged to sleep in a "different bed" instead of getting back into hers. That narrows it down to precisely momma's bed. I took her in to lie down with me because in the past, she has quickly realized that it isn't as comfy as her own bed, and it doesn't last too long. This time, she laid directly on top of me and failed to find a comfortable position for her head for about eight minutes. That is a really long time when it is approaching 1 a.m.
2. Dadda told her that Momma would take her back to her bed. Thaaaaaanks, nothing like being volun-told to get back out of your bed in the middle of the night. To his credit, this was probably the more rational of our options, given how well the sleep was going in our room. Of course, putting her into her own bed meant a different blanket and a different pillow, both of which she hated. I offered to lie down with her and sing some songs. Tentative agreement. Win!
3. Mikayla's breathing heavily, three songs in. Momma gingerly arises, employing all her best don't-wake-the-baby moves. She reaches the foot of the bed and....Mikayla bolts from her pillow to wrapping her arms around Momma's waist, sobbing once more. Ok.
4. Negotiation. I told Mikayla that I would go wash her special blanket, and that I would bring it to her when it was all clean and dry. The gamble here was obviously that she would fall asleep while it was being laundered, and I'd give it back in the morning. Fifteen minutes of silence suggested that it had worked. I was still lying awake, congratulating myself on my sheer brilliance, when I heard it echo through the exhausted ruins of my sanity. The squeak and creak of a bedroom door opening across the hall. I think we attempted more lying down and singing at this point but I'm honestly not sure. Somewhere in here I moved the laundry over to the dryer.
5. Mikayla asked to sleep on the couch. This has never remotely been on the radar before, so I don't know where she came up with this gem. Because it was now after 1:30 a.m., Momma was pretty much doing whatever results in the least amount of loudness. Sure, let's hit the couch. I set her up, and I headed back to bed to wallow in my sleeplessness. Fifteen minutes later I went to check the dryer because please, Lord, somehow let just the blanket be dry enough. (Nope.) I found Mikayla collecting books to "read" while she lay on the couch in the dark. Sigh. I've learned enough about sleep hygiene to know that when sleep is going this poorly, it's best to shift gears and then try again maybe 15-20 minutes later. So, grateful for our living room's dimmer switch, we turned on some low light and read a few short books.
6. When I checked the dryer again, the blanket was....ok, it was damp. But I was so stinking tired. Mikayla was just happy to feel the soft minky fabric between her fingers again that she was willing to sleep with it a little wet. Done. I put her in bed with her blanket over her, and I'm telling you that girl kissed me goodnight, told me she loved me, and didn't make another peep. 2:00 a.m. She hung in there through an entire wash and dry cycle. That is some determined blanket-love, people.
So, what do you think? The tragic tale of a little girl who was torn from her security blanket due to unforeseeable misfortune, and was inconsolable until its safe return? Or the heroic saga of a mother determined to overcome horrific toddler devastation, with the remains of her mental stability hanging in the balance?
Either way, it's a coffee morning for sure. I am so grateful that this happens as rarely as it does around here!
No comments:
Post a Comment