Does anyone know an exorcist? I think Jasper is possessed. It’s either that or some time between last Thursday and today, our delightful, cheeky, good sleeper has been switched out for something demonic. It’s not just that this imposter won’t sleep in Jasper’s bed. It’s also that it seems to have so many extra limbs. Last night, he spent the entire night kicking me in the head, back, face, stomach and the final straw which saw me give up and get out of bed at 5 o’clock this morning, the bladder. But, having consulted with Dylan, it turns out he also spent the entire night kicking Dylan in all the same places.
Jasper has never been a still sleeper. In the space of just a few minutes he can spin himself around from one end of the cot to the other and back again. And he sticks to this perpetual motion style of sleeping when he’s in our bed. It used to be OK when he was more compact, but the longer he gets, the less space there is in our already largest-on-the-market-in-anticipation-of-sharing-it-with-a-growing-monster super king sized bed.
Our current issue started last Thursday when Dylan and I headed out for an impromptu anniversary dinner which saw me hitch a ride with him to a meeting and wait in a coffee shop while he met, and then both of us enjoyed a pizza and a cocktail at the Sez American Brasserie. On returning home, we found Seema watching the monitor while Jasper bounced up and down in his cot, doing his customary pre-slumber leg workout. We thought nothing of it as we thanked Seema and bid her goodnight. Usually, the bouncing would last about 10 minutes before he would remember that he was actually meant to be sleeping and collapse face first into his elephant stuffed toy. But not this time. It went on, and on, and on until big softy Dylan decided that Jasper needed a hug and went in to retrieve him. Jasper promptly fell asleep, exhausted with the relief of having been rescued from the horrors of his cosy bedroom and comfortable bed.
On Friday evening, I was on bedtime duty alone, and cruel, cruel mother than I am, I let him ‘cry it out’ for a full hour before the anxiety of waiting for child protective services or an angry downstairs neighbour got the better of me and I too went in to scoop him up and watch as he fell straight to sleep on my shoulder. Now, here’s the thing. Jasper’s cot doesn’t have dropped sides, because they freak me out and I worry about trapped fingers and other appendages. But this means that to transfer Jasper from my arms to his cot requires skills I don’t have. Dylan doesn’t have them either. And nor does Seema, although I applaud her effort at rocking him with increasing velocity and enthusiasm before essentially launching him into the air, over the side of the cot and down onto the mattress in what must feel like a stratospheric oscillation for Jasper. On this one occasion last Friday, I sandwiched Jasper between a pillow and my chest, intending to gently lower him into the bed on the pillow, which I hoped would mask the sensation of falling. Sadly, I forgot how heavy his bottom was so instead of a gentle descent onto the mattress, I dropped him bottom first and then squashed his face with the pillow as I too lost my balance. Amazingly, he fell right back to sleep, but this stroke of luck left me with false hope.
Saturday came and went, and the monster slept in our bed for both his nap and his night time sleep. The transfer was our downfall both times. Sunday came and went and the monster again slept in our bed for both his nap and his night time sleep. Monday came, and with it brought Seema back to solve all my problems. Or so I hoped. On Monday, Jasper had his nap on the sofa and slept in our bed. And now Tuesday has come and gone with Jasper snoozing for almost 3 hours, to make up for lost sleep during the hours he spent kicking Dylan and I, no doubt, on the floor of his room. He was close to his bed, but just not in it.
I am open to suggestions on how to exorcise this demon and bring Jasper back from the upside-down. Or on how to manage what must be some sort of developmental leap with the expertise and grace of a seasoned parent. I am also open to offers for someone to come and babysit for a few weeks. My working theory is that his little brain is working too, too hard. In the past few days he has suddenly discovered that if he keeps trying, his tongue will eventually make the sound he wants it to make and with that, he will form a word. He gets so excited when he successfully copies something I say. A habit which just this morning alerted me to the fact that I need to start using proper language around him. When he called a rocket that appeared on the morning news an “ana” (Jasper for aeroplane), I said “Yes. A space aeroplane” to which he promptly replied “space ana”. Oops.
So, if you need us, Dylan and I will be asleep somewhere on the floor surrounding our bed, and Jasper will undoubtedly be spinning around on the top of the bed, dreaming that he’s enjoying a wild ride in a ‘space ana’. For that matter, the real Jasper might be doing just that while an alien has invaded our family.
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