Heartwarming Story Wednesday

My kid is straight up awesome. This is no lie. If you knew him, you'd be forced to agree.
But most don't know him personally. Allow me to give you a peek of just how awesome he is (I need a good synonym for awesome. Any suggestions?)

We have been struggling with sleep for a few months. And by a "few months", I mean 27 months. Give or take a few days. There have been nights I swore (oh, right, like you've never done it) under my breath. And nights where I swore not so under my breath. Bubba had undiagnosed sleep apnea and severe reflux. And RAD (reactive airway disease). Do you have any idea what albuterol does to a kid? Picture a metal top (you know, the spinning toy thingy), hopped up on caffeine and sugar. Then plug it in. That's pretty close to my kid on albuterol. Just when we got it all under control, he discovered he could control his world (and thus, mine) by climbing out of his crib.

With a "big boy bed" came a whole new world of sleepless-ness. Gone was my security fence in the form of the white bars surrounding his crib. Gone was my ability to put him down, drowsy, but awake and let him fall asleep. Gone were the days of letting him fuss (not cry. Never cry. I'm not a Cry-it-outer. You can be. That's cool. Don't judge me; I won't judge you.) if he woke up.

Welcome the days of rocking him to sleep.
Rubbing his tummy for hours at time while he counts the trains he insists on sleeping with.
Finding his way into momma and daddy's room to pull all the clothes out of drawers. I tell no lies.

We've also welcomed the days (or should I say "early mornings") of little eyes peeking over the side of the bed. And a sweet little voice saying, "whatcha doin?". "Sleeping." "Oh. Shhhh. Whatcha doin?" Ah. My little silly boy.

After weeks and weeks of this. I concede. I wave the white towel. I give in. He wins. Sleep IS for chumps.
Ok. I don't concede. I compromise. I call this "parental growth". We do our bedtime routine. Bath, Jams (PJs), play with trains or cars, book, prayers, rock for two minutes. Bed. I rub his tummy for one minute. He counts trains. Or tonight, he bangs the plastic hammer he took to bed on the wall. Whatever his little two year old mind moves him to do. Then I kiss him.

And walk out.
Yikes.

As long as he stays in his room, and is quiet (as quiet as a two year old can ever be), I leave him alone. (He, in turn leaves me alone...) It works. Mostly. Last night he fell asleep on the floor.
Tonight, it sounded like he was sleeping sooner than usual. So I popped up to check on him.

I opened the door and saw a tiny, curled up little boy sitting in his rocker with the biggest smile on his face.
"Hi, momma! I rockin!"
"Oh, Bubba. Yes you are."
"Momma rockin? Please?"
You know what kiddo? You got it. Momma will happily do some rockin.
And while I was rockin, he said his "grace" (all prayers are grace. Silly sweet little boy.)

We rocked till he feel asleep. Totally worth whatever sleep setback it incurs.
I freaking love my kid.