Alleluia, Praise the Toilet

After many months* of trying to destroy his mother by waking up at random times of night and then at five a.m. for the day (or earlier, Lord have mercy on his punishing toddler soul), just this week Charlie switched up his sleep routine. He now goes to bed just before 8 p.m., as before, sleeps relatively soundly and does not get up for the day until about 6:30 a.m.

That sound you hear is me weeping with relief.

A.--he of the silver tongue--told me my face is looking a lot better this week. Which means that I've looked like exhausted hell for the past, oh, five months or so? Super. But it's all better now!

So of course I decided to celebrate this blessed event in my life by jacking it all up. Specifically, by moving Charlie out of the tiny room adjoining ours and into Cubby's room down the hall.

This had to be done before the arrival of the new baby in December, of course, who will occupy the tiny room. I've wanted to move Charlie for some time because of the presence of the half bathroom accessed through that tiny room. I use the toilet at night, you see, thanks to that same baby, and it's very frustrating to have a toilet located literally six feet from my bed, but inaccessible because of a lightly sleeping child. So I have to get up, trudge down the long hall, remember not to fall down the one step right before the bathroom, use the bathroom, then trudge back.

This same down-the-hall bathroom, by the way, is unheated in the winter. It's punishing to use in the middle of the night in December, to say the least. Better than an outhouse, yes, but not much.

ANYWAY.

I really, really wanted that convenient bathroom back, but Charlie had to be moved first. And I couldn't find it in my heart to do that to Cubby, who would no doubt have awakened to a punch in the face or something equally loving at 4:45 a.m., given Charlie's terrible sleep patterns.

So I waited, hoping those patterns might change. And they did. Finally.

There are now two beds in Cubby's room. We moved Charlie's in there this morning, and the two of them promptly climbed into their respective beds to "practice" sleeping. I obligingly sang a lullaby and shut the door. Then I stood there and listened to Cubby instructing Charlie that he was not to escape from the room, that he was to stay in bed. And then Cubby sang "Rockabye Baby" over and over again.

I suspect it will not all go so swimmingly tonight, and I fully anticipate some rough nights and mornings as we all get used to this new arrangement, but at least I can seek solace in my handy toilet.

Little things, my lovelies. They make this life bearable.

* My archives tell me since at least May. How handy to have an accurate record of misery!