Thursday, April 28, 2011

Trying weeks.

These last couple weeks have been trying ones.

Every day last week I had something to go to, aside from my normal gym routine. Last weekend I went shopping for a bra to wear under my dress (It finally came in!) and I was harassed by 9 missed calls on my cell phone.

I called Jared and he said, "You need to come home now. There is poop everywhere."

So, I came home and, as it turns out, he wasn't lying. The scenario played out like this:

Oliver was taking a bath and he pooped in the tub. Jared took him out and let him run around while he cleaned the tub. Oliver decided he wasn't finished pooping, and pooped on the carpet in the living room. Being so exhilaratingly  unsupervised, he decided to play with his poop. (How could you resist, I guess?)

He walked through it. (As evidenced by tiny little foot prints across the carpet and on the linoleum.)

He tried his hand at finger painting with it. (As evidenced by the stinky brown streaks on our white walls.)

He rubbed his cup through it. (As evidenced by the poop covered Buzz Lightyear cup left on the table.)

And then, the icing on the cake, the awe inspiring finale, the piece de resistance  - he drank from said sippy cup.

There was poop on his face, his mouth, his hands, his whole body. After tasting the (not so sweet) taste of his own fecal matter, he walked into the bathroom and found Jared.  Even Oliver knows when he's in too deep.

"Yuck," he said, shaking his head no.

Yeah. I can imagine that was yuck.

So anyway. I cleaned up the poopocalypse the best I could. At least that event is over and done with.

But then, every day this week and most of last week Oliver has decided that he won't take a nap. I know he's tired because he'll fall asleep while he's eating or playing with his trucks. BUT! The second I carry him into his bedroom he gets a wild look in his eye and starts screaming. Like, I've-been-casted-for-a-gore-film horror screaming. Nonstop.

He's always been good at sleeping. He is a champ at night sleeping. He used to be a champ at napping. Why stop now?

I let him scream in his room for 20 minutes the first day, then gave up. The next day I left him for half an hour. Then 45 minutes. Today I worked it up to an hour, and I just don't think I can go any longer than that. A neighbor even stopped by to ask if everything was alright, since he heard the screaming. He will fall asleep in my arms and stay soundly asleep, but the second he touches the mattress he is up and running again.

After a failed attempt at a crib nap this morning, I held him while we watched a movie this afternoon. He fell asleep.

And instead of trying to get him to his room, I very slowly slid my arms out from underneath him. I bunched the blanket up and shoved it underneath him where my body was supporting him and slowly, very carefully, got up and left him there. You think surgeons get shaky hands when they're cutting into people? Ha. You should've been watching mine. There was no way I was letting him wake up. Not when I could finally go to the bathroom by myself and drink a cup of hot chocolate.

What else was I supposed to do in a situation like this?

I win again, suckers.

 I can't do this everyday, so how do I get him to go back to his usual napping? I'm at a loss for ideas here.

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