That Little "S*&t!"

Now, before I go off and offend anyone's sensibilities, let me first print out a disclaimer.  In Texas (and maybe other parts of the South) the term "little shit" is used almost like an endearment.  You say it with a little bit of softness and laughter in your voice...like a nick name.  Kinda like when you call a really good girlfriend a bitch.  You say it with love, laughter and respect...for the most part.  And sometimes there's a little frustration thrown in for good measure.  But either way, it's not really meant as a bad thing...especially when you're referring to your children. 

But let's be honest...they can be little shits sometimes.  And Jax was a big one last night.  Let me tell you about it...

It really started last Friday.  In case you missed the news flash, we've been fighting ear infections for almost a month around these parts.  And the Friday before last, we ran our last fever...until this past Friday.  That night, Jax was waking up more than normal...as in, after midnight it was every 30-45 minutes more than normal.  And that's a lot.  I just kept giving him his pacifier and trying to unwrap his snuggle wrap and all of my normal tricks, none of which were really working.  At 2am, I gave up and brought him into our bed and that's when I won the Mother of the Year award for the 48th time...he was hot with fever.  Burning up with heat.  I dosed him with meds and we fell into a somewhat fitful sleep.  I was sure that it was his ears again. 

But the next day, he was fine.  I talked with Brent about taking him to the doctor to get his ears checked, and we both decided that we would just wait for Monday to roll around.  (We had a two-week follow-up appt aready scheduled.)  During the day, he was fine.  At night, he was a handful.  Restless, tossing and turning his head and running a low fever at night.

This continued for FOUR nights...and that's when I reached my limit.  I typically handle the nighttime stuff since Jax prefers me at night and it's usually not this bad.  But after four nights in a row of little to no sleep, I needed a night off.  And like the great husband that he is, Brent stepped right up and told me to take a whole Tylenol PM and to sleep in the other room.  He gave me the best present ever...a good night's sleep.

Of course, by the time that it came around, I was willing to take half of the night shift, if he needed my help and I instructed him to wake me up around 2-3am.  That's when Jax normally wakes up to eat and he typically won't take a bottle from Brent at night.  (I don't know how Brent arranged that with him...but I'd love to know the secret!)  I went off to bed as instructed and slept like the dead until around 3:15am.

I woke up then, knowing that I would hear a cry sometime soon.  I remained in a half awake, half asleep state for about 30 minutes and then realized how much time had passed.  The thought of him sleeping through a feeding was just too strange for me, so I came all the way awake and went to check on him.  Obviously he had woken up at some point during the night and wanted to be unwrapped from his Snuggle wrap and laid on his tummy.  He was sleeping peacefully, and Dad was snoring in the bed across the room.  I made my way back to the upstairs couch, close enough to hear him cry out and far enough away to fall back asleep.

Except that I couldn't really sleep for wondering when the heck he was gonna wake up.  I mean, I kid you not...it's been every 30-45 minutes for FOUR looooong nights...and the first night that Brent takes a shift the kid is sleeping like a log???  You've got to be kidding me!  I laid awake, dozing off every once in a while, but still checking my phone for the time until I gave up in frustration around 5:30am.  At that point, there was only one thought running around in my head...

"That little shit!" 

He would choose this night of all nights to sleep through the night for the first time!  The one night that I have off and he had a chance to show Dad what the nighttimes are like for me and he sleeps, well...like a baby.  Once again, that little shit.

Even though I say that, y'all know that I've got all of my fingers and toes crossed and I'm praying like heck that it happens again tonight.  He slept from about 8:30pm to 5:50am and took a bottle and went right back to sleep...that would be heaven if it became a regular thing.  Seriously. 

And if he doesn't do it again?  Well, he'll still be a little shit...but for different reasons.  Just remember, he's my little shit...which makes a world of difference and I love him to pieces.  Oh, and if he doesn't sleep through the night tonight with me?  I'm putting Brent on permanent nighttime duty!  LOL!