This morning the mini-est muffin woke us up at 4:00 am demanding "JUICE!" and "WARM!" (code for warm chocolate). This is actually an improvement from the nightly midnight, 2:00 am, and then 4:30 demand, which had been going on for a couple of weeks. It was like having a newborn again, something I'm pretty sure I don't want to do again!
I finally pulled my thinking out of my sleep-deprived brain and realized that as long as I gave him a reason to wake up and demand, this would continue. I also realized that this probably started when we were all very sick with fevers and coughing and pain from ear infections and the goal was to JUST GET EVERYBODY TO BE QUIET SO I CAN SLEEP A FEW MORE MINUTES!!!!
What this means
now is that we're going to have to "help" him return to the habit of sleeping through the night with the ability to self-soothe. Sounds reasonable and caring and appropriate. Until you add the "Logan Factor."
Logan is what we euphemistically refer to as an "intense child." (This IS the reframe!) He came into the world this way, literally tearing his way out in less than 4 hours (not enough time to get the only epidural I ever asked for, thank you very much!!)
This dramatic entrance set the stage for life with Logan. Don't get me wrong, he is very, very cute.....and it's a good thing! Otherwise, he'd probably be in someone else's care, if you get my drift.
So, this morning, after lying
calmly (said through clenched teeth) in Brennan's bed and not responding in anyway to "JUICE!" or "WARM!" or "DADDY!" and occasionally dozing, Logan was done for the night at 5:40 am. So we got up. Bleary-eyed I made some coffee, made first "JUICE!" and then "WARM!" and snuggled with Logan on the couch while he watched some TV thinking hopefully "maybe he's waking up so much because he's not getting enough Mommy-time?". I went upstairs to take a shower which meant more crying and pleading and, of course, that woke up his brother.
I went ahead with the shower, a little worried about what might be happening out there. My fears were justified when I discovered a diaper on the bathroom floor but no Logan. I hurried downstairs, towel-covered and dripping, wondering how much pee I'd have to clean up.
Logan met me with a you-know-what eating grin. I mean that literally. He held out his hand and said "Poop!" with much pride and excitement. Then he said "Mouth."
There is no word in the English language that effectively conveys how nasty/gross/nauseating/disgusting that is.
It took me a while to find all of it, but I did and cleaned it up after giving Logan an unwanted bath. All this before 7:30 am.
Fun times.
When he's angry or upset, any hope of tranquility or a "win-win" solution is put to death. He came into the world this way and spends roughly 50% of his waking hours in this state (no, I'm not exaggerating.)
, Logan's birthday holds special significance for me. I guess it's because it means I'm that much closer to being able to reason through situations rather than waiting out a tantrum. Maybe it's because I'm that much closer to wiping my last poopy bottom. Or, it could be because I'm that much closer to never again having to say "Logan! Don't put (insert one of the following: Lamby, my clothes, the toothbrush, Daddy's watch) in the toilet!" 
So don't be surprised if you see me giddily putting baby and toddler stuff curbside with a huge sign saying FREE!!! PLEASE TAKE!!! 
