Another late night with Max

It's 3:51am right now.  Max has had a really rough go of it tonight.  Greta and I are being especially diligent in our attempts to keep Max trained to sleep by himself in his own bedroom.  But it does raise a tough dilemma every now and then.

For instance, tonight he woke up screaming.  Bad dream?  Teething?  Let him cry a bit more and see if he goes back to sleep.  Still crying.  Hmm.  Okay, I'll drag my tired old butt out of bed, pop his soother back into his mouth, and shush him back to sleep.  Done.  Now I can go back to sleep.  Ten minutes later: more screaming.  Bad dream?  Teething?  Or just trying to get us to pick him up?  Let him cry a little more and see if he goes back to sleep.  Still crying.  Hmm.  Okay, I'll drag my tired old butt out of bed again, pop his soother back into his mouth, and shush him back to sleep.  Done.

Well, now I'm wide awake.  There's a good chance he'll wake up crying again, so I sit upstairs reading a work-related paper waiting for him to scream.  There it is, right on cue.  This is pretty abnormal -- he must be teething again.  I need to give him acetaminophen for the pain.  That's a delicate operation that cannot be done without picking him up.  (Believe me, we've tried.)

Woe is me.  Despite our tough stance against picking up crying babies in the dead of night, I am now forced against my will to undertake the onerous task of picking up my crying baby in the dead of night and snuggling up with him in the glider chair for some quiet time while we wait for the painkillers kick in.  I may stroke his hair while he falls back asleep in my arms.  But that doesn't mean I'm enjoying it.

Thankfully, Max sleeps through the night more often than not these days.  But every so often we get a night like this and it reminds us of what life was like when Max was younger.  (4am -- the water softener just kicked in.)  Sue and Jeff undoubtedly get "nights like this" almost every night with baby Anne.  Hang in there, guys.  It gets much better.

These late-night forced cuddle-fests often lead me to reflect upon how busy our life has become and how often we think of everything we do -- taking care of Max, walking the dogs, maintaining the house, earning a living -- as just a torrent of fires that need putting out.  It's easy to forget that most of these tasks are quite enjoyable.  Indeed, most of these tasks are what makes life worth living.  If only we could turn down the volume a bit.  Perhaps then we'd take the time to enjoy putting out these fires and maybe write more blog entries.

In order to adhere to the no-pictureless-posts policy of this blog, I've included below a new picture of Max, Viola, and Merlin all crammed into the ding, taken on Teela's second stop at our house, this time on her way back home to Bloomington.

Yep, three's definitely a crowd.

It's now 4:18.  Max just started crying again.  Maybe I'll let him cry a bit more and see if he goes back to sleep.