For the first time in months, it's not even 1:00 A.M. and I'm the only one in the house awake.
Since I began the job at the greenhouse (oh, didn't I tell you about that? I do believe I did. It was Part Seven. Or something. Surely you knew), Some People in this house have let their sleep schedules go completely and totally wonky.
For instance, The Baby, who had come under the care of The Papa (my live-in father), had him totally and completely wrapped around her skinny little finger. I suppose it all started very innocently; he would let her sleep in just a little today. And stay up just a little later the next day. Since she was up late, he'd let her sleep in just a bit. And then, because she wasn't quite tired at bedtime, he'd let her watch a movie. Until, before he knew it (though I sounded my alarms, warnings to which he responded in a manner that should have been accompanied by a very ethnic matronly voice-- "Oh, you can't spoil a baby! Just let her sleep!"), she had established a very consistent sleep schedule...of 3 A.M. to 3 P.M. She was living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and refused to wear clothing. With the unruliness of her hair, she was coming very close to being an authentic Wild Child.
It was completely clear to every other member of the house that my dad had created a monster, but he was unwilling to admit it and very resistant to allowing her to be re-trained. "Awwwww...don't wake her up. Let sleeping babies lie!"
I think that night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after night after very long night of a three-and-a-half year old nudist dragging him to the kitchen for peanut butter and jelly, insisting that they watch Spookly the Square Pumpkin just one. more. time, he snapped.
The Baby came to me in the middle of the night, wandering untethered, as she had begun to do, and informed me that she'd been kicked out of Papa's room. "I'm keeping him awake," she said.
This was insane. It was dangerous, unsafe, and downright annoying.
It was time for reformation.
So, two nights ago, I bribed her. I don't normally give in to this kind of thing, but I thought I'd try starting off in an extremely positive manner. "Stay in your bed all night, and tomorrow we'll go to the thrift store and you can choose any toy you want." That was gonna cost me, what, a quarter? Fifty cents, tops?
She liked the idea. I could see the gleam in her eye. Free toys. Just for sleeping! Even her sixteen-year-old sister, Bard, tried to get in on the action. "If I sleep in my own bed all night, can I have a special prize?" Um. No. Maybe try doing something with a level of difficulty that's a little more in line with who you are? "Uh, no thanks," she said.
But The Baby. Now, that was a different story. She had her eye on the trophy and she was ready. She curled up, kissed me goodnight, listed all the different things she could think of that MIGHT be there for her to buy, and waved to me cheerfully as I threw her a kiss from her doorway.
It didn't work.
It seemed to be working for a little while, but after about ten minutes, I heard the thump, thump, thump of little feet on wood stairs, and I knew she was on her way down. Bo and I looked at each other sadly; our daughter had fallen off the wagon.
Last night, however, I insisted. There would be no getting out of her bed. After all, her room isn't lonely; she shares it with her big sister, Sweetheart, who's seven years old, and with her big brother Monet, who's eleven and has his own room but would rather sleep on the floor with the girls, though he can't admit that his little sister Sweetheart is his best friend in the whole world.
It was a long haul. I spent a lot of time checking on The Baby, making sure that she was still in her own bed. I gave her dollies, and Beanie Babies, and a Special Pillow, and the blanket Penny made for her when she was born. We sang every song we knew, and she sang a few I'd never heard before--a few I doubt she'd known before they started coming out of her mouth--and I prayed for her several times.
And she finally fell asleep. At 3:00 A.M.
So, this morning, at 9:00, I roused her. And she awoke. And she was happy! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! I felt so good, I awoke everyone else in the house! And everyone very cheerfully congratulated The Baby for her brave and disciplined spirit. "You slept in your own bed! Yahoo!" they cheered. And she ate up every bit of it.
Miraculously, no one took a nap today, and everyone, from my darling hsuband Bo down to The Baby herself, is fast asleep.
If I had more stamina, I'd blog all night. But then, they'd have to reform me, and I'm just not into that.
So, with snores all around, I end this post, with the hopes that I'll remember all I wanted to write, as well as find time for it, tomorrow.
In the meantime, sleep well, lovelies. I know I will.
