“Xavier is crying.”
That may not be what she said but that’s what I heard. As I woke up (after being hit) I realized our youngest child was in our room and not doing so great. It was a little before 1am.
Turns out he was scared. Of what I don’t even think he was sure. I took him to the bathroom then Laura took him back to bed and tucked him in. And that was that.
No, it wasn’t.
About 15 minutes later I heard him crying. It was the kind of cry where something was definitely wrong.
“I threw up in my hand.”
I have to admit I was paralyzed for a moment. After a few seconds of getting my bearings (it was somewhere around 1am) I took him to the bathroom, washed him off, and had him wait for me to get his bed ready. It wasn’t a lot, no more than a tablespoon of fluid, but enough to upset him. And when you’re 3 years old waking in the middle of the night to vomit, any amount, can be a bit traumatic.
I stripped the bed of all the various accoutrement that comes with a 3 year old (stuffed animals, books, toys, whatever) got a clean blanket (because it wasn’t just his hand that had vomit on it) and got a big bowl for him. Just in case.
After I tucked him back in I tried to lay down and get back to sleep but couldn’t. And that was a good thing. Another 15 minutes or so later I heard him throwing up into the bowl. This time it was a full blown regurgitation. Luckily he managed to get it all into the bowl.
He was eager to get back to bed and go to sleep, which was nice, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything there shouldn’t be in or on his bed. He wanted that too, only he didn’t know it. His impatience was magnified by his age and time of night. Poor little guy was just wanting to go back to sleep and his body woke him up violently and his asshole dad wasn’t letting him go back to sleep..
By this time it was 2am and I was having a hard time getting back to sleep myself. I lay in bed trying every trick I could think of. Yes, Laura was asleep this whole time. After putting Xavier back to bed that first time she fell asleep and was snoring away in under 5 minutes. I hate her for that ability. She is 8 months pregnant and of course automatically gets a pass for this behavior.
It was 3am when I finally decided to just go ahead and get up. But I didn’t want to go downstairs and not be able to hear if anything happens. I get my laptop and sit in the hallway upstairs after starting some laundry. Of course, something did happen. About 3:30 in the morning Xavier woke up and … well, I needed to strip the bed again.
And no, I never did get back to sleep.
There really isn’t a point to this post. I don’t want to be all “Hey, look at me doing such a great job being an involved dad” or anything like that. This is my job, and I’m just doing what I’m supposed to. Do I mind it? Sort of. I’d much rather have slept through the night. I certainly don’t resent Xavier for being sick. My wife, on the other hand, there are better ways of waking me up at 1am than hitting me.