Once upon a time, we had a son that slept well. From when we sleep trained him at six months to the age of two years and ten months, he regularly slept twelve hours a night. Sure, napping was always a problem and stopped completely with the arrival of his sister when he was nineteen months, but we could always count on good nighttime sleep from him.
This all came to an abrupt end in Sept, when he figured out that he was able to climb out of his cot. We had just moved Maia from our bedroom into his, and with a captive audience, he found that by leaving his cot he was able to entertain her more effectively. He started turning on the light moments after we left the room so she could better see his antics. We removed the lightbulb. Dark did not deter him. He would empty all of the books out of his bookcase into her cot. We removed he bookcase. He removed all the clothes from their dressers into her cot. He would then climb into her cot with her and they would shriek with laughter throwing the clothes around the room. We could hear him in the middle of the night demanding, 'Maia, wake up!' for more playing. They were five hours down on their normal sleep patterns and the utter devastation in the room every morning was soul destroying. Maia was a total nightmare without her sleep. So I had to move her into my sewing room. I was so angry and upset I could barely cope.
Without his sister, he stopped trashing the room, but would continually leave. He still went to sleep without too much of a problem, but would 'visit' with increasing regularity. After we were in bed, he would sneak out and watch DVDs all night, or play with his toys. His daytime behaviour completely deteriorated to the point where he was so sleep deprived he was a crazed zombie lunatic. This is the clinical term. The living room light was made inaccessible, the TV unplugged. He still came out, but now woke us up and pestered us instead. The most outlandish demands were made in the wee small hours. Eventually he would climb into our bed, but not sleep. He likes to lie on top of my head.
Those of you who personally know Jamie, or read my blog, know that he has some issues with control. Specifically, he can't cope with not being in charge. This is compounded by his need to have incredibly specific things done throughout the day. A very regimented bedtime routine has evolved in response to his demands. Now he has become incredibly hung up on the number of songs (2), the number of kiss and cuddles (1) and me leaving (1). Before I have even sung the bloody songs, he is asking for more songs. After the kiss and cuddle, he is asking for more songs. If we ignore him and leave, he runs frantically after us, screaming 'I would like a song, I would like a song'. If we capitulate with a frustrated 'last one' through clenched teeth, secondary kiss and cuddles are demanded. Then more songs. If it's not the godforsaken songs, it's something else. Quite literally, one of his most frequent pleadings is, 'I would like something else'.
Bewildered about the title of this post?
If you give a mouse a cookie is a book we read when we were in the States. Brief synopsis is a mouse, who wants a cookie, then wants a glass of milk, wants a straw, wants a napkin to wipe his mouth, needs to check a mirror for milk mustache, after seeing his reflection wants to cut his hair, needs to sweep his hair up, has to sweep the whole house up, wants to have a nap, needs a story before the nap, wants to draw a picture like the story, wants to sign his name, wants to hang it on the refrigerator, wants a glass of milk. And repeat. This is what it's like putting Jamie to bed.
Due to the escalation of the nighttime demands and hysteria, coupled with daytime demands and hysteria (and the not eating) we have recently returned to the play therapist. Yes, that's right... Jamie has a therapist, and yes, we are returning to her for a second time. I am mortified and ashamed that my three year old needs a therapist, but I am trying so hard, I want things to be easier with him and for him. Steven and I are at odds about what to do. I am in the camp of ignore him 100% completely, return him to bed. Steven is of the camp of sing the flipping songs, it takes less time before he stays there and actually falls asleep. The play therapist has categorically advised the ignore and return method, and after a disasterous New Year's Eve culminating with me standing in the doorway with my back turned for 45 minutes (after 90 minutes of putting him back from me and songs from Steven) I made Steven try the ignore and return method last night.
He got hung up on wanting more milk. Milliseconds after being put back in bed he was up and chasing us towards the door, sobbing 'I would like milk. I would like milk'. Sometimes we made it through the threshhold, sometimes he caught up before we even made it out the door. Time after time he was returned to bed without a word from us. It's not a game, it's no fun for him, he's hysterical. Steven and I took turns. About two and a half hours in, he changed from milk to cuddles. There is nothing more heartbreaking than hearing him scream, 'Mum, I need a cuddle, it would be nice!' over and over again. After three and a half hours and more than 300 trips back to bed (I'm not joking), he was in such a state that he wouldn't even lie down, he made himself rigid. He was throwing his full body weight against the door if it was shut and was hitting himself in the face. I could not continue, I stood at the side of his bed and he literally keeled over and fell asleep after 15 seconds. I spent the following four hours googling 'toddler won't stay in bed', 'toddler anxiety disorder', 'toddler OCD' and 'mum loses it, emigrates to Brasil'. I am jet lagged, I could not sleep. Just as I was drifting off at 3AM, an apparition appeared at the side of the bed. 'I would like milk, I would like milk' he said. 150 times. He lay on my head. We fell asleep at 4:30. At 9, I awoke to the sounds of 'I would like milk, I would like milk'.
Today, we wouldn't let him watch any TV or DVDs (this is very important to him), explaining that when he stayed in his bed at nighttime he would be allowed to watch his programmes again. We discussed numerous times today why he wasn't getting to watch TV, explaining that bedtime was important and that he needed to stay in his bed. I ran through his bedtime routine, saying, 'I will do this, and say that, and sing this, and do that, but when I say night night it's time to stay in your room'. He agreed to all of this and seemed to comprehend. He received new DVDs for Christmas from Uncle Darren and Auntie Jennifer, and was told he could watch them tomorrow if he stayed in his bed. This was exciting to him and I had high hopes for tonight.
But tonight he fixated on 'I would like to talk to you'. He had nothing to say but kept repeating that phrase over and over. Put to bed, he immediately got up and chased me to the door. We only managed 30 minutes of return and ignore before I, in despair, stood in the doorway again until he fell asleep.
So what's the point of this overly long post? Frankly, it's a cry for help. The only time I have to work on my business is at night when the kids are sleeping, and now he's not sleeping I'm struggling to get anything done. And I'm struggling not to resent him, first I lost my sewing room and now my sewing time. As hard as it is to share with the world how rubbish I am at this parenting malarkey, can anyone offer any advice?
I had the audacity to think I could have a shower after Steven got home from work today. I know, crazy idea. Sure enough, half undressed and there's a bloodcurdling scream from the hall. Maia lying on the ground. Lots of blood. Jamie had tried to shut a door when her little finger was in the hinge bit.
Puzzles, he loves puzzles... and he's scarily good at them too
The DVD player
Because it plays Toy Story on continuous loop
Viking helmet toast
Mister Bo. That's a dog, with very long hair to protect us from the crazy eyes
His sister 
Puppy being held like a baby
Puppies given a festive slant
Woodland landscape
Fish tank
Perfectly centered lamp in art-print style
Baby doll lies desolate in the sunshine. I'm submitting this for the Turner Prize....
A little bit of geekery, these 
