Rough Week

This week was our first week back at work/school since December 19. We loved spending time together and with Will.

Monday came around, and we got Will up and ready to go to daycare. He, contrary to my expectations, did great! He loved having other kids to play with. They said at music time, he was the only one really participating with the music teacher's songs and hand gestures, grinning the whole time. Monday night, we were able to get him to bed with his usual routine at his usual time. No sweat, right? Wrong.

Tuesday, Will had a lot of fun at daycare again. I was relieved, thinking that this might be a fairly easy transition back to work. Tuesday night, we got Will into the bath around 7, got him dressed for bed and ready to read by 7:15, and ready to sleep at 7:30. Ha! As soon as we put him down in his bed, he started screaming. Not crying, but screaming, as if in terror. I tried rocking him for a while more, got him to doze off, and set him down. He screamed again. Eventually, I brought him into the living room, turned off the lights, and got him to sleep again. As soon as we reached his bed, he bounced back up and started his screaming again. The process: snuggle, sleep, bed, scream. Repeat ad nauseum. We were absolutely unable to get him to calm down, so we broke one of our cardinal rules and brought him to bed with us. There, in the dark, he whispered something around his paci that sounded really creepy and went to sleep. We were not so lucky. I know I was up once an hour, worried that my pillow had fallen over on Will's face and was smothering him. Rolf nearly fell off the bed twice. We have a queen-sized bed, neither of us are small people, and Will made himself at home and stretched out diagonally. It was a rough night for all.

Wednesday, he had another great day at daycare, although he seemed a little reluctant to sleep there, too. Wednesday night, though, brought the same screaming. Ugh. At one point I figured we were going to just have to let him cry it out. Usually, he's down in 10 minutes. Not this time. He screamed 20 minutes straight, barely taking a breath. He sounded terrified. I was starting to wonder if there wasn't something in his room bothering him. My mom joked that I needed to tell Granny to go away and let him relax. I believe that kids are able to see things adults can't, and his sudden terror of his bed had me thinking that maybe her joke was close to the truth. Earlier in the day, I had taken him to his room and asked him what was bothering him. I sat in his rocking chair, and he babbled something and headed for the door. I watched as he closed the door and went into the hallway, like he wanted me to see what happens when he's alone. I looked around and tried to feel any change in the room, but he burst back in with a "mama!" after 10 seconds. It was almost like he was worried. Rolf finally got him to sleep in his own bed at 10 PM.

Thursday was more of the same, but Rolf was able to get him down by 9:45.

Friday, we let Will stay up with us while we played on the Wii. By this point, I was figuring that his reluctance to go to bed was more separation anxiety than anything. After all, he went from spending all day, every day with us to seeing Rolf for a mere hour and a half before he had to go to bed. He went to bed with much less of a fuss around 9:00.

Saturday, Rolf tried putting him to bed at his normal time and was able to get him down by 8:00. Of course, we had spent the entire day with him, and he had pulled the "I fell asleep for 20 minutes in the car so I'm good for the day" thing. He was pooped. The real acid test will be Monday, after we're separated again all day.

Ugh.