Happy Birthday to my Sweetie...

Yesterday I had a brilliant idea. In an attempt to put Fuss on the schedule that I wanted him on, I had him skip his afternoon nap (and if you have ever tried to keep an exhausted 1 year old up...). That way I could put him to bed between 8:00 and 8:30 p.m. rather than 9:30 to 10:00 p.m. It worked! By 8:30 Fuss was sound asleep. The part I didn't think through was the morning schedule. Normally Fuss wakes up around 6:30 a.m. then goes down for his first daily nap around 9:30 a.m. This morning Fuss woke up at 2:44 a.m. and stayed up until his morning nap, 3 hours later, which was truly wonderful because my alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. and I was already up. I tried to sleep through Fuss' awake time, but with him playing in between D and I, laying his head on my chest, bouncing on the bed, and chattering, it was difficult. At 3:30 I lost what was left of my sanity when he head-butted me awake and I am pretty sure it was an attempt to break my nose. I sat up faster than...well, faster than I normally would, picked him up, carried him back to his own room, and threatened to put him in his crib (I wonder why he doesn't like it so much when we treat it as a punishment). He got the "fear of mom" look in his eyes, laid his head on my shoulder, hugged me and whimpered a little. I carried him back to my room. It's also no wonder why he thinks he is in charge around here. So, here I sit with 4 hours of interrupted sleep, listening to the chatter of my little boss.

When did I start losing to a 1 year old? Was it that way from day 1? It could have been, after several hours of waiting for his arrival, Fuss decided to come when the doctor had stepped out of the delivery room and the nurses had to go chase him down. It could have been the first day I brought him home and he tested positive for jaundice and had to sleep in the bili-light box. Every time I walked past he would raise his little hand and whimper, even with his eyes covered he knew when I was there and he made sure I knew that he was in control. My stubborn, determined, hard-headed child is pretty sure that this is his world and we are all just in it. I am a bit frightened for the teenage years. Even my mom, who raised 6 children and now proudly has 17 grandchildren, has mentioned that she has never met a more determined child.