Worst Time Ever

I hate 3 a.m. I hate it. I don’t hate many things but that unholy hour of the morning evokes a vicious loathing in me usually only reserved for tyrants, puppy abusers, that song from Titanic and nose whistlers.

Shudder

I have had the unfortunate experience of running into 3 a.m. way more than I would have liked this past year (as well as its equally nefarious conspirators, 4 & 5) thanks to Landon’s apparent aversion to sleep. Even though we tried every sleep strategy, read every sleep book and talked to every parent who looked semi well-rested, Landon was a terrible sleeper for the first 9 months of his life. And I don’t just mean he would wake up a couple times. I mean he would wake up and then stay up for the next couple of hours screaming no matter what we did. Then he would only nap for 20 minutes during the day. One time I was so tired that I had a toddler-like meltdown, complete with floor rolling and staccato hyperventilation (Why! Wont! You! Sleep!?).

Like this, except not socially acceptable

So no matter what we did, our obstinate little guy just wasn’t having it. Fortunately, he eventually got bored of the whole make-your-parents-miserable thing and at around 9 months became a sleeping champ. I smugly thought I was through with 3 a.m. for quite some time.

Blasted pride.

Alas, 3 a.m. is back! It’s back in its insidious and menacing glory! It’s back in its tantrum-inducing and zombie-producing force! My greatest foe is five glaring neon lines on the digital clock.

Landon has kept us up the past few nights until exactly 3 a.m. with the angriest cries I have ever heard from him. We have found nothing wrong– no fever, earache, sore throat, or tummy problems. He’s not cold, hot, wet, itchy, hungry or thirsty. He has his paci, blankie, and even Mr. Naners the sock monkey. But each night it’s the same thing – wake up around 11 and refuse to go back to sleep until 3 a.m. That wretched hour where nothing good comes from the world.

Apparently separation anxiety has hit its stride turning my little snoozing champ into a blubbering mama’s boy. He refuses to calm down for anyone but me and promptly doubles over in agony the second I so much as think about stepping away from his crib. You’d think he had woken up next to Mr. Naner’s severed head.

AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

So it looks like we’ll have to wait this phase out (why, oh WHY did I have to be so lovable??). In the meantime I will need to arm myself for a few more rumbles with that insidious sleuth. 3 a.m. – I’ll see you tomorrow.