Gibson starts cooing in his crib. I hear him over the scratchy monitor. Even without the monitor, I could hear him. He was very much awake. But he’s not upset. Maybe he will settle himself back to sleep. I’ll be a progressive parent. Allow Gibs to be independent and not go rushing into his room to “fix” the non-problem. I’ll let him learn how to go back to sleep, I tell myself. I let my eyes drift closed.
The soft cooing and repeated syllable of “da” have become less soft. More insistent. Maybe Gibs is starting to understand that “dada” will usually bring his father to him. Too bad his father is currently so deeply asleep it would take an explosion to rouse him now. Whatever woke my son is obviously not going to resolve itself. I get up.
A wet diaper. I should have known. Gibs smiles up at me, almost mischievously, in the low light of his cute IKEA lamp. With any luck, I can change him and get back to dreamland with a quick nurse session. My magic boobs are still magic even at this time of night.
Remove wet diaper. Grab fresh diaper. Hear rain.
That’s not rain.
It’s funny how urine arching away from a baby’s body and landing on a firm crib mattress sounds like rain.
Not just the mattress. His pajamas. All over his legs. Realize that I’m not going back to bed tonight.
Strip Gibs of his pajamas. Wipe down his wet body with a nearby swaddle blanket. I used to wonder why the children’s consignment shops never seem to have extra muslin blankets. Now I know. They are utterly destroyed by the time your baby no longer needs them. Because you use them to wipe a baby clean of his own pee at 3 AM with whatever is handy. Apparently that means a swaddle.
Take Gibs into the living room for the extended nursing session I’m sure he will need to settle back down to sleep. Re-dress him in fresh pajamas with one hand while he nurses.
He’s asleep, dry and dressed. Realize that I can’t lay Gibs back down in his wet crib. But I didn’t bring a blanket into the living room with me. I hate to just put him on the carpet. Spy my pile of freshly washed pre-fold diapers on a stool next to me. Lay two out on the floor as makeshift napping space. Realize I am brilliant. Realize that I might just be sleep deprived causing me to think I’m brilliant.
Realize that I have been watching Gibs sleep instead of fixing the crib problem.
Strip off wet bed sheet. Use same urine soaked swaddle to wipe down the plastic mattress protector sheet thing. Hold wet fabric in my hands and wonder what to do. Because I honestly only have this one crib sheet. Seriously, just the one. I can’t just put a fresh sheet on and put Gibs back to bed.
Stand in basement holding crib sheet staring at my washer and dryer. A moment of truth. What kind of mom am I? Will I take the time to fully wash this urine soaked sheet? Or will I throw it in the dryer and hope the smell of pee isn’t so overwhelming Gibs can’t sleep on it?
Realize that I’m still staring at the washer and dryer. I don’t have it in me to run a load of clothes in the washer and then dry the lot. I throw the crib sheet into the dryer by itself. After I unload the diaper inserts that are still in the dryer from the night before. That’s what kind of mom I am.
Turn on an episode of Absolutely Fabulous while waiting for the dryer to finish its dirty work. Gibs sleeps on.
Ab Fab is over. Go downstairs to retrieve dry crib sheet. It doesn’t smell that bad. And after watching Eddy be a terrible parent to Saffy, feel like mom of the year just for making sure the sheet is dry at all before putting Gibs back to bed.
Curse the sheet and the crib and the mattress as I smooth out the wrinkles.
Try to move Gibs from the living room floor to the bedroom without waking him. Fail.
Sneak out of Gibs bedroom and creep into my own bedroom to turn off the alarm clock that was set to wake me at 4:30 anyway.
Am dressed and even had a cup of tea. The cats won’t stop meowing for more food even though they have plenty in their dish. Cave in.
Kiss husband on the cheek. Peek in on Gibs snoozing. I don’t dare kiss him for fear of waking him up. Sneak out of house with aching heart. Content myself that Gibs will wake The Man well before 7 AM.
Buy large coffee
Buy chips and guacamole for breakfast.
Write blog post outlining how this morning went. Make note to buy more damn crib sheets.