Why I Couldn't Sleep Last Night

After another night of boring TV (why do we pay for cable?) and what felt like web surfing on the same 5 pages I always look at (and random Google searches), it was time for bed.  Earlier in the evening I heard a sound over the monitor.  I realized it was one of Brixton's puzzles--one of those ones that make noise when you match the right pieces up--the horse in the puzzle kept neighing out of the blue--and Brixton was still awake, laying in his crib with both hands over his eyes, frozen in fear.

I went up and comforted him, then fixed the equine offender.  Except, I noticed that the puzzle was situated in a way that wouldn't have allowed it to make noise.  Brendan, on the phone from Texas, assured me the puzzle was probably losing battery power and going kind of nuts.

An hour later, I heard the neigh again.  This time Brixton was asleep, but I was kind of freaked out.  I trekked up the stairs again and removed the puzzle from his room, calling it a jerk and putting it on a chair in our office area.

Bedtime at 11 came and went, and as my usual habit, I read for far too long.  I turned the light off without looking at the clock, but it was probably closer to midnight.

I laid there.  The pillows weren't comfortable.  My arm was hot.  Then my arm was cold.  I heard something.  Wind.  I heard something else.  Brixton on the monitor. What was that?  Oh, my breathing.   I couldn't relax or get comfy.

And then, I heard it.  The horse.

This is what a normal person might think:  "Oh, that puzzle is going off again.  I should put it in a closet so we can't hear it anymore."

This is what I thought:  "If I were to open my bedroom door, there would be a huge demonic horse shaped puzzle piece standing there.  Or I would find that the puzzle piece was just sitting there on the floor, freaky style, because a ghost or something put it there."

Really, with me it's just not simple.  It's like a scene from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure.

After I sat there for a minute, I heard the neigh again.  Wow, that's really loud. I thought.

Opening my door and finding...nothing standing there waiting for me, I put the puzzle in the closet.

That should fix the problem.  I thought.  It was 1 am.

I laid there.  I tossed and turned.  I almost fell asleep.   I'm not kidding you when I say I heard the neigh again.  My blood ran cold.  I knew I was starring in my own horror film.  How else could you explain being able to hear a little puzzle piece make noise through two doors?

It neighed again.  It was loud.  And it was coming from the monitor.  The demon-possessed puzzle piece was going for my kid. 

It wasn't the puzzle, guys.  I wasted about 4 hours thinking it was the puzzle and it wasn't.  It was his stupid barn toy.  I got up (again) and took that toy from his room, trying to go in all Seal Team 6 style.  Turns out I'm not that good at covert ops, so Brixton sat up and said, "Hi Mama."  I sat on his bed with him and tickled his back.  Then his bed broke.

Yep.

It went CRACK! And we fell down on one side a few inches.  Can I just say it was 2:30 in the morning?  There was no way I wanted to deal with that right then.  I found that if I shifted his mattress one way and if I wasn't on the bed, it was passable.  And he was asleep.  So yeah, I left.

I got in bed.  Laid there.  Ugh.  Had to pee.  Like a tablespoon.

Back in bed.  Finally, finally comfortable.  "He'll sleep till 8" I prayed/willed/wished.

Almost asleep.

Screams, cries, MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA.

So, at 3:30 am, I made the wrong choice of bringing him into bed with me.  Which meant he said, "Mama? Party? Mama?  Truck? Mama sleep?" For about 30 minutes until I just started to ignore him, which meant his then used his small body to steamroll me and jab his feet directly into my bladder.  Which, yes, meant I had to go again.

Oh, and he woke up at 6 am bright and chipper as the dumb birds that started chirping at 3:01 am. 

So yeah, happy Friday.  

Mama Nightmares

Last night ushered forth the kind of dream I hope to never, ever have again. 

My mom used to tell me how she'd dream of us kids in different situations where we were in danger, or she was powerless to help us. 

Seeing that I'm prone to having very vivid dreams and waking up in tears at various times after especially stressful dreams, I knew this time was coming. 

The dream went as such:

I was nannying again for a really great family with three kids.  The kids were awesome, I loved the mom, they had a great apartment on the 20th floor with a spectacular view, and I could bring Brixton with me.  We had a great time playing, snuggling, reading and eating Pop Tarts (and Brixton told me he didn't like it and I was so proud--ha ha--in real-life he'd wolf that thing down.)

One feature of the apartment was wall to ceiling windows.  The windows slid open at the bottom with only a screen on the outside.  I noticed that several of the screens were broken and most alarmingly, one window was open without a screen at all. 

The mom came home and we were all sitting around in the living room.  Suddenly my parents were there too and it was totally normal.  I told the mom I was concerned about the window without the screen and really about all the windows being open, since a screen wasn't going to keep anyone in. 

She went over to the window without the screen to check it out--she didn't know the screen had popped out.  She slid the window closed and walked away from it.  I decided that while I was there I would keep all the windows closed "just in case."

As I was thinking that, Brixton crawled over at top speed to the window.  "Brixton!" I called.  He ignored me.  He slid the window open.  "Brixton! Brixton! No!" I screamed.  Now he thought it was a funny game.  I was frozen.  No one else was moving toward him.  No one was going to help him but me and I couldn't move fast enough.

With a giggle of glee and a smile since he thought I was chasing him, he crawled out of the window and pitched forward falling.

It was 6:45am when I woke up, my body filled with adrenalin, my heart beating wildly, still in that dazed no man's land between dream and reality.  I had to lay there for a minute, tangled up in the sheets, while I processed that I just saw my beloved little boy falling to his death.

When I got Brixton up later, you'd better believe I gave him an extra squeeze.  And checked to make sure his windows were closed.

Have any of you had a mama nightmare?