All we wanted was a little time together. OK. A little sexy time. But that doesn’t seem like too much to ask for a happily married couple. Unless…
… they have a baby.
Last night, Aidan went to sleep like he usually does around 7:30. There wasn’t much fuss and, contrary to his norm, he didn’t wake up at the 30 minute mark asking for help to go back to sleep. Dean and I had a nice dinner together, watched a little TV and, at 9, discovered ourselves in a rare circumstance.
The baby was sleeping soundly, we had both stopped working for the day, and it was early enough that we both had a bit of energy. Woo HOO! You can guess what that meant.
Dean ducked into the bathroom to shave, we both had a pee and brushed teeth, I downed my meds and vitamins, and quietly, stealth-fully, we went into the bedroom.
And there he was, our little Aidan, sprawled wider than any 10-month old could be, on my side of the bed.
Quick like bunnies, Dean and I cleared out his bassinet (the one he never sleeps in) and built a barricade around its walls (because he’s big enough now to stand up and topple himself right out). Then, the moment of truth.
I should say that we have, at least a couple of times before, successfully picked up Aidan while he was asleep and transferred him to a different sleeping surface. So, it wasn’t an ABSOLUTE given that our evening was about to take a sad, sad turn.
Dean gently bent over Aidan, scooped him up, and put him in the bassinet. Aidan stretched, quietly rolled onto his back and – blink, blink – stared at him.
But there was still a chance. Dean laid a hand on Aidan’s belly, made the sh-sh-sh sound that Aidan likes, and waited.
Aidan rolled onto his side, took a deep breath… and sat up.
Dean picked him up and started walking around the room, singing his standard medley of please-go-to-sleep songs. Since I was still optimistic (how foolish the desperate), I transferred onto the bed to relax and await my beloved.
I got Aidan instead.
Once he’d seen me, go-to-sleep songs just wouldn’t do. It was breast or nothing. So, Dean handed him over, then lied down next to me to awaithis beloved.
And wait, he did.
Aidan nursed for a bit, then rolled off the breast, came sitting and started looking around. Wide awake.
OK. Do not engage. Do not talk to him. Do not play with him. Do not smile at him. In fact, short of keeping him from falling off the bed, do not pay attention to him at all.
Didn’t matter. He was perfectly content to entertain himself with nothing but the air around him. Which might have been fine except he was only content on our bed. If I put him in the bassinet, he cried and climbed out.
Surely he’d eventually get tired and go to sleep, no? Any reasonable baby, without toys or parental attention, in what was for him, the middle of the night, would get tired and go back to sleep, right?
Ninety minutes later, 9 – 0, Aidan was still awake and crawling around. Dean looked at me and said, “Gaffers tape?”
Then… Aidan had an enormous poop. I swear I heard Reba look up from the other room.
Dean and I looked at each other. My face said, “Just shoot me.” His face said, “Do you think we can leave him in it?”
There was nothing to do but admit it. It was over. Dean and I had, at different times, both dozed off, it was 11 o’clock, Aidan needed a change, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Seriously. Shit.
So we took care of Aidan, took Reba out one last time, and all crawled into bed. Aidan nursed while I silently bitched about having neither sleep nor sex by 11 o’clock. And as I drifted off, mercifully quickly, I noticed in my last conscious moment that Aidan had fallen asleep.