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Theo did not start off as a good sleeper. By month three of his young life, I was ready to toss myself out of the window in an exhausted stupor. But then came Fatherís Day of Theoís first year and my little man magically slept through the entire night in his crib. Nate and I were never so delighted in our lives. Finally! Rest for all!

And, honestly, since then, heís been a champion nighttime sleeper. In bed at 7pm up at 7am. Best. (I suppose I have to wait till heís a teenager before we can all sleep till 10 again.) But every once in great while, we are hit with a whopper of a sleepless night. Case in point: last night.

At midnight the screaming starts. Loud. Piercing. We ignore. If you give him a few minutes he often settles down and goes right back to dreaming about bananas and kitty cats.

12:30: Still screaming. We have to enter the room. Dread.

1:00: Holding, cradling, rocking and continued screams. Theo is not hot. He has no fever. His diaper is clean as a whistle.

1:30: Tylenol is given. Who knows, maybe something hurts. Teeth? I donít know. Just please god, stop.

2:00: In the bed with us. Screaming.

2:30: In the living room with Nate; TV on; toys getting played with; there is a short period of non-crying.

3:00: I scoop Theo up and put him back in the crib. This is nuts! We need to sleep!

4:00: Nate and I are delirious. We are pissed. Theo actually purposely bangs his head against the wall. We say things we donít mean. We raise voices. This does not help anything.

5:00: Silence. Beautiful golden silence.

6:00: Chirp chirp chirp, Theo is ready for the day to start.

6:15: My alarm clock rings.

Dudes! I havenít done the all night things in a while. I hate it. At least when he was smaller I could just bust out the guaranteed baby soothers (um, boobs) and there was silence. Sure I had to sleep in a chair, but I was asleep. Iím a exhausted and grouchy and dark-circled, and teary.
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