Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Maximus the Sonambulist

Fancy word for sleepwalker, which Max isn't, actually (I don't think), but get this.

I don't like when Sean closes. He doesn't get home until almost 10:00 pm and if I haven't already gone to sleep I do shortly thereafter. He often closes several nights in a row which means we can go for days without seeing each other apart from the late night trips to the bathroom. It sucks. It really does, but the past two nights--lovely.

Max is exhausted. Preschool's tough, and it's right during nap time. Ugh. So for two days now he gets home at 3:45 ready to play and by 5:00 his eyes are drooping. He's not even that interested in dinner so I change him into his pj's. At 5:30 or so we take our places on the couch--me leaning up against the corner and Max between my legs, head resting on my chest. And we watch Ellen--some recently DVR'd episode. He starts out kinda interested, clapping with audience and laughing when Ellen does, but he quickly loses interest. It's not long before his eyes close and his breathing becomes slow and deep.

That's it. That's the moment that I love. My boy, lying peacefully against my body. I can feel his ribs expand as he fills his lungs with air. The binky he'd been sucking the life from just moments earlier dangles precariously from his lips. His trust in his mama is complete.

And then this happens:

Sean gets home last night around 10:00, as usual, and goes upstairs to change his clothes. He comes back down a minute or so later with a smirk on his face.

"Where's Max?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"Where's Max?"

"He's not in his room?" Sean's mouth spreads in a smile. "Is he in our room?"

"Go check for yourself."

I can tell he's enjoying this. He follows me upstairs and turns on the light as I open Max's door. No Max. I turn and scan the nursery. No Max. Can't be in the bathroom; I remember shutting the door. I move toward our room and notice the door is slightly ajar. I step inside and Sean flashes the light on like a strobe, and in that instant I see Max asleep on our bed with his legs dangling over the side. My heart simultaneously melts with love and drops with guilt.

Maximus the Escape Artist forced our hand recently and he is now learning to sleep in a toddler bed. Every morning he gets up and makes his way to our room, gently closes our door waking us just enough, and waits for Sean to hoist him up. He usually sleeps for another couple of hours.

Last night, it seems, Max woke up, and thinking it was morning he went to our room. Of course we weren't there. I wonder what he must have thought when Daddy didn't reach for him over the side. He clearly climbed up anyway.

Sean gently returned him to his bed, but at 5:00 am as I made myself presentable for work I heard a thud and a whimper. Then a muffled cry and a few foot stomps. The door almost hit him as I entered. He was sprawled on the floor quite a distance from his bed. I gathered him up and took him to Sean where he quickly nestled into Daddy's warmth.

Why was he just laying there? Did he remember not finding us the night before. Was he afraid to leave his room and not find us again? As I write this now I'm listening carefully for the sound of little feet. About 30 minutes ago I heard a thud and ran like a bolt of lightening up the stairs. He was face down on the floor next to his bed. I scooped him back up and laid him down again.

I didn't want to leave him there, not even for a moment. I want him to keep that trust that lets him fall asleep so willingly in our arms. I want him to know that we will always be here for him, looking out for him and waiting to catch him if he falls (as long as it's not from a toddler bed). I want him to know that we love him and need him and always want him around. I don't want him to be afraid. I want him to know that he is loved. Because he is so loved.

And because I don't have a picture of him sleepwalking, here' a recent one of him just walking. Enjoy.

1 comment:

  1. Ahhh, he's getting so big in so many ways. The greatest thing about Max to me is his ability to love, love, love. He's precious.