The Brutal Truth

Here's the brutal truth. We don't tell this to new parents, lest we scare them away from propagating the species. And sometimes, we don't even admit it to ourselves, because hope springs eternal.

But if you lean in close, I'll tell you. Because I like you. And I'm a journalist, committed to truth and honesty.

Once you're a parent? You will never sleep through the night, ever again.

Oh, people will tell you once the baby is 6 weeks, 6 months, a year, 2 years, 5 years, they will sleep at least 8 hours solid. "And you will too," they croon.

But that's not true. At least, not if you have more than one child. Because the hard facts are: With multiple kids, someone is always having a rough night. Either someone is sick, or someone has a nightmare, or someone stumbles out of their bed and into yours without even waking up. It's always something.

The odds are against us, my friends.

And with Kieran in the house, the odds are even more stacked.

He's 2 now, my happy, sweet, cuddly, mischievous boy. (A few weeks ago, Corey was picking up toys in the yard when he found Kieran leaning over the pavement, shooting ants with a squirt gun. "Pew! Pew! Pew!" he was giggling. BOY!) And he's mostly a good sleeper, especially compared to his big sister, She Who Shall Not Sleep. (Don't say her name out loud! She'll hear you and wake up!)

Kieran naps almost every afternoon, he can fall asleep in his highchair or carseat and transfer into his bed and he falls asleep in his own bed at nighttime.

This happens almost every day at lunch. I've made peace with the
inevitable schmears of peanut butter on his pillow.

But lately, he wakes up crying between 1:30 and 3:30, almost every time. Even worse, some nights he wakes up talking. That's the kiss of death, because if he's talking, he's REALLY awake. A cry might mean he's still just disoriented, half-dreaming. But if he's yelling, "Mama! Mama! I in here, Mama!" I might as well brew the coffee.

Then there was the night last week, when he woke up calling for me. I stumbled to his room, groggy and swearing evangelical under my breath. ("Dang baby. Darn it to heck. So tired.") I scooped him up and he hugged my neck fierce, like he does a thousand times a day. "Oh HI Mama. Happy to SEE you, Mama. You sleeping, Mama?" I started the trudge back to my bed, eyes half closed, swaying like a sailor in the midst of a hurricane.

And then that toddler around my neck said something he had never said before. "I loved you, Mama. I loved you!"

And he continued to say it as we snuggled under the covers and he wrapped his arm around my head and stroked my cheek. "I loved you, Mama. I loved you."

Who needs sleep, anyway? It's highly overrated.