Please don't judge me on this post...I offer this account not to seek advice but rather to entertain you.
Stuart is nearly 20 months old and is hopelessly attached to his paci. His "paaa" as he calls it. I know, I know...some people find it appalling (including my dear Dr. Rosemond) to see the silly thing in the mouth of a child older than 6 months. But sleep is a precious commodity around these parts and if it means the difference between sleep or no sleep, I always opt for sleep.
We have at least 4 "paaas" for Stuart but for some reason the other night we could only find one. Not a good thing when I usually ensure that a spare is left on the kitchen counter for those 3 am wake up calls when the one he went to sleep with is lost.
So there we were...Sat. night...sleeping peacefully when we heard the preemptive whining through the monitor. This is the point that he's not fully awake so you can usually dart upstairs, grabbing the spare "paaa" along the way, tiptoe into his room and plug up the cry pipe. But remember I told you that we'd gone to bed with no spare.
So I crept into the room and started feeling the floor near the crib hoping to find the missing "paaa." Nothing there. I ran my hand under the crib and drew it back with nothing but a handful of fuzz, dust, and a random Barbie shoe. At this point I was beyond the window of opportunity to send him back into dreamland because I looked up and found him standing in the crib, looking over the side at me saying "paaaa....PAAAAA!"
So I leaned over to the monitor and got right in the microphone where I knew it would blast at top volume in our bedroom and said "Get up here and help me look for the &#**^# PAAA....and bring a ##&!^@ flashlight!"
So there we both were with little penlights looking under the bed, the rug, under the furniture, lifting up the crib mattress and saying things like "where the ^#$% could it be? Did the #$!@& ELF take it?" And the whole time Stuart is jumping up and down in his crib laughing, thinking it was a party. Woo-hoo!!
Finally I remembered the diaper bag, dug around the bottom and found one. Of course it had probably been on the floor of the Dr. office and never washed which is why it was in the bottom of the bag. But I was so happy to see it ~ rotavirus, influenza germs and all ~ and ran back into the room only to realize that it was way, way too late. Stuart was ready to get up, watch Dora and eat a waffle.
Not only did I lose a half night of sleep, but the infected "paaa" will probably lead to the next round of stomach virus for our family. Maybe it's time to heed Rosemond's advice and endure a couple of sleepless nights in order to get a string of sleep filled nights.
Or better yet...I think I'll just be accepting donations to replenish my stash of "paaaas."