My son Ham does not have a special blankie, toy, pacifier (although I think 2 is too old for a plug) because he has my hair. This started about two months ago. He needs my hair when he feels insecure or when falling asleep. So much so that he could barely sleep the entire week the husband and I were in Paris. (Yes finally Paris!) My poor mother in law. The other two children are ok sleepers, we never had bedtime issues with them. Ham, not so much. Some nights it feels like some family on super nanny when the husband and I decide to get tough and have Daddy put Ham to bed versus yours truly. This lasts for all of 15 minutes because the poor child works himself into such an agonizing fit and we can no longer handle the noise. He's the third, we are done with trying out techniques by now we just want 60 minutes of mind numbing t.v. time until we pass out and do it all again.
The night time routine consists of me sitting below his bed at arms length while he rats up my hair in to a glorious tangle of frizz. It is something to behold when I leave his room 40 minutes later. Yes forty minutes of hair tangling. I have a relatively high pain threshold. The poor thing just cannot get himself to sleep. When this first started I was losing my mind sitting in the dark room of a toddler having my hair yanked in all directions. But, then I realized I could just play on the iPhone while Ham went through his routine. Facebook, texting friends and family, reading online articles, reading blogs, and my very newest addiction: Angry Birds are all ways that I keep my mind from going stir crazy. I could probably come up with less brain candy and learn to meditate or something...but what is fun about that I ask you? Nothing! Who wants a clear mind and soul?
I will not play this little horrible bird flinging game while I am supposed to be attending to kids during the day. I can see the headlines now...Children of the Jenniehousehold are in the hospital due to injuries sustained while launching themselves from a homemade ski jump on the roof. Mom was reportedly on her iPhone playing Angry Birds. But I have been known to stay in the dark room past the time the poor stylist has fallen asleep because I am being driven crazy by some egg stealing green pig like things. Yes this is what my suburban brain has been reduced to: defeating the next level of Angry Birds. Do I care? Not really, because this phase that Ham is going through will pass onto another equally annoying phase and I will come up with something else to keep the little bit of gray matter that I still have content.