Surrender Mommy.

I love my little Elimonster. A firecracker from the start, in utero he illustrated his affinity for loud music by kicking me to the beat. Particular to 80's glam rock and monster ballads. My kind of kid.

After a difficult pregnancy and a few weeks in the NICU, we finally brought the boy home. He then screamed, and screamed, and screamed, for months, pretty much non-stop. The doctor kept saying Colic. So we tried different bottles, formulas, homeopathic remedies, carseat on dryer, vacuuming, rocking, driving, 15 minutes in the crib (him) to rest our minds and still, he screamed and cried for eight or nine hours a day. Sometimes more. Nothing gave him peace. Poor baby Bless Ben's heart, he was the stay-at-home parent at this time and he was amazing with the little boy. So patient and calm. It was a blessing really that I was the one working. I'm not sure I could have been as good a parent in the same situation.

Finally at four months of this Colic parent method-acting I told the Pediatrician, whom we adore, something was wrong, it wasn't Colic and we needed to fix it. His cries sounded like he was in pain and always came with feedings, which for our preemie boy was every 2-3 hours. I kept reading about how many babies have acid reflux and it's often misdiagnosed Colic. I begged her to try acid reflux medication even though he didn't spit up like Reflux babies. I swore if it didn't work, we'd throw it out. Miracle of miracles, within 48 hours of liquid Zantac, he was a new baby. A happy baby. Ahh.

Still Eli was always very specific about what he liked. Toys that made noise, not being swaddled, no rocking at bedtime. Even now, his bedtime ritual is locked tight. If you miss a step, he'll remind you. It goes like this: read a book, waft his favorite blanket up in the air three times while counting aloud a-one, and-a-two, and-a-threeeeee before laying it over him. Then out goes the light, sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Row Row Row Your Boat, say prayers, kiss goodnight, turn on his fan and as you leave his room, you to say, "Mommy, Daddy and Sissy love you." In that order. It's always worked like a charm. Until about a month ago.

Now he realizes his room is not a cell and he has both power and confidence - the double threat. He gets up, opens and shuts his door, runs around, plays with his toys, sings, calls out, throws anything to hear it crash. He'll knock on the walls or door and say, "Hello?" Anything to make noise. This goes on for about ever before he falls asleep with the lights on and sometimes on the floor. People try to tell me he's not tired, but honestly, he is. He has bags under his eyes, rubs his eyes and yawns throughout.

I should say, I know to those who don't know me well, I probably sound very negative about my boy. Please know,I love him with my whole heart and adore his spunk. It's what makes him so incredibly funny. He's hilarious, creative and sweet. In him though, I've definitely met my match. His three year old self is a tough nut to crack and his Mommy is sleepy. If life were The Wizard of Oz and brooms could indeed fly, my sky would read: Surrender Mommy.

Note: I meant to publish this in June before leaving for CO. Clearly failed. He's now going to bed better thankfully. His new trick however is to crawl in bed with us at about 4AM. Then he starts shrieking if I move him back. He knows sleep is my Achilles and so he's winning this battle, but not the war I tell you. Not the war. And if I keep repeating that statement, surely it will be...