The Situation

Did you know that out of all of the Jersey Shore cast mates, The Situation is the only one Snooki wouldn't trust to watch her baby? I know, right?!

But this post is not about that Situation. It is about the other Situation we have going on in the boys' room. More specifically the Situation that is bedtime.

Bedtime. To see the actual word it looks so quaint and calm, and precious even. But, our bedtime is none of those things. I know it is our own fault for putting the boys together in one room. I know there will be a rough transition with Sam from crib to bed. But, come on!

Our nights go a little something like this:

Because Jake and I are college graduates and have been at this parenting thing for almost 6 years now, we cleverly started putting the boys to bed earlier than normal, because we knew they would be chatting it up before bed (and I use the phrase "chatting it up" loosely, but I will get to that later.) We figured giving them some time to get it out before they dozed off would work out great, and then they would still end up going to sleep at the same time. Well, we are idiots, apparently.

The routine goes a little like this.

It's Bedtime! Okay boys let's go upstairs and get in your beds.
(Abe goes to the bathroom. Sam get in his bed, then decides he needs to go to the bathroom.)

Pick out a story. Just one story.
(Sam chooses the longest book we have. After offering and reading every title of every single book in their room, Abe chooses a random Batman book. Neither want to read the other's story. We try to strike a deal, and end up reading both of them in Sam's bed.)

Storytime is over. Lights off. Sam wants a toy.
"I wanna a toyyy!!"
"Fine!"
"It's downstairs!"
"Fine! Go get it then!"

Sam hops off his bed and scurries through the hallway and goes downstairs all by himself. I am very impressed at this because no one is down there. Abe would not walk down the hallway if it were dark and someone wasn't "with" him. Two minutes later Sam emerges holding a very inappropriate sleeping toy of a minuscule, plastic Superman. It is so tiny his entire fist can be closed around it.
"I got Superman!" he exclaims proudly.

Next, we engage in the "lay with me" dance. Abe, in his old age of 5, is way more civilized about this part. He simply asks one of us to lay with him and rub his back. Usually about five minutes will suffice. Sam, on the other hand, has a completely irrational and hysterical technique. It goes a little something like this:

"Mama, WAYYYYY with MEEEEE!"
"Okay, Sam, do you want me to lay with you?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
I walk away.
"Mama, WAYYYY with MEEEE!"
"Sam. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Lay. With. You?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
So, I lay with him. Because, clearly, that is what he is trying to tell me. This involves in me wedging my body next to him and the wall in his twin bed. Him wiggling around, moving his blanket, making noises. I threaten to stop laying with him if he doesn't be quiet.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Finally, I can't take it anymore and I get up. That'll show him, I think. He screams of course, and I walk downstairs. I catch Abe out of the corner of my eye, his covers pulled up to his neck, his eyes fake closed, and trying so hard to keep the smile from coming on his lips. Oh yeah, so sweet and innocent that one.

This is where the "chatting it up" comes in. It mostly consists of weird noises coming from Abe, weird noises coming from Sam. It usually reaches a pretty loud decibel before I go up there and tell them to be quiet. Sometimes Sam and do the "lay with me dance" some more. Or, I get him so water. Which really just turns into a heavy throwing object that makes a loud noise about 2 seconds after I leave.

Next up, is the "throwing of the toys." Remember that minuscule Superman Sam grabbed? Yeah, that puppy is as good as gone. Depending on the night and/or the day I have had I only let this charade last one time. It goes a little something like this:

(Screaming coming from Sam. It sounds as if he has injured himself. The first few times I come running upstairs frantically.)
"Sam! What happened? Are you okay?"
"I CAN'T  FIND SUPPPPAHHH MAAHNNN!!!"
"Okay, we'll find him."

I start feeling all around his sheets. Under the pillow, under the blankets.I flick on the light. Move the bed away from the wall. Look between the mattresses. Now I am determined to find this stupid thing. I start frantically searching around the perimeter of the room. Tiny Superman is nestled in the bookshelf between "Green Eggs and Ham" and "Where the Sidewalk Ends," because, well he is Tiny Superman and Sam likes to launch things in the dark. I make a mental  note every, single, time to invent some sort of tractor device to put on these toys or Velcro to fasten to him and Sam's hand. You may be thinking that the easy thing would be not to let Sam sleep with these tiny toys. Obviously, you do not know Sam. If there is one thing I have learned from this kid it is to pick your battles. And the Tiny Toy Bedtime Battle is NOT one to pick.

After Superman has been returned to Sam's tiny balled fist, and Abe has said to me, "We should be sleeping by now, shouldn't we?" I let them chat some more before I stop hearing noise.

Only an *hour later they are sleeping soundly in their beds.

*This is not every night. Results may vary.