Shit happens

So...yesterday was an interesting day.

Those of you who know ANYTHING about my life, know that Finn is not a great sleeper.  He has never been a great sleeper.  He's probably slept from 9-11 hours in a row...maybe 10-15 times in his entire life.  He came out as a terrible sleeper.

We tried to let him sleep in the bouncer, the swing, finally in bed with us.  It made it better, but never made it go away.

I have read books, I have listened to people (especially older women) wax poetically about sleep training, and what I'm doing wrong.

Finally, somewhere along the road, my friend Jorie told me "listen, it's possible that he's just not a good sleeper, and that nothing you do could change it" (paraphrasing...even though it's in quotes, just go with it).  I accepted that.

Could I have slept trained my child?  Maybe.  Could I have done things along the way that were wrong, or that lead him down this sleep-harried path?  Yeah, probably.  But, whatever, I'm not convinced that it would have made a ton of difference in his sleep patterns.

Well, when Gus and V started coming here, I did my own version of sleep-training Finn. Let's call it nap-training.  I got Finn to lay in bed ALONE and go to sleep ALONE.  It took a few weeks, but seeing Gus and V go to sleep on their own must have clicked some kind of "my mom isn't bat-shit insane" reflex in Finn and he went with it.  For months.

However, over the past 1-2 months Finn has gotten challenging again.  He gets up, runs around, breaks things in my room, screws around and I have to go into the room at least 6-7 times before he will actually CALM HIMSELF down and go the eff to sleep.

It's frustrating, because he's being loud as he is doing this, and he's waking other children up, and keeping me from cleaning up, working out, etc.

So, anyways, yesterday I tried to put Finn to sleep, and I tried and TRIED and TRIED for over an hour to get the kid to fall asleep.  Eventually, after one trip to the potty, one glass of milk, one "lay with me a minute" and two books, I said to Finn "I am leaving this room, and you are going to sleep.  Mommy is not coming back."  This was at 1:15 (yes, I put him to sleep at 12 p.m.).

I went and took a shower, and started watching an episode of The Walking Dead.  I heard him bustling around in there, was annoyed, but decided I wasn't going to go in there again.

Genevive woke up at 2, I went in and gave her her milk, then I went in my room to get Finn.

I was assaulted by the smell of poop, and I thought to myself "oh. shit."

I slowly opened the door.  and there were Finn's pants and underwear on the floor, covered in poop.  I looked at Finn, he was covered in poop, his arms, legs and hands were completely covered in poop.  And he was asleep.  In my bed.  On my comforter, in MY bed.

Are you kidding me?

Then, I turned around.  And I saw the door.  The door was LITERALLY painted with poop.  Like, the child picked up the poop from his pants and tried to paint the door with it.

You think I'm exaggerating?

I'm not. 

Not at all.  

Yep.  That was my bedroom door, please notice the floor as well.  I did not have the time to photograph the bed, or my child.

I ripped him out of bed, and pretty much threw him crying into the bathtub and cleaned him off, just Finn.

Because at this point...we had about 15 minutes to get 3 kids out the door to pick up 3 more.

But...oh.my.gosh.

It was so ridiculous.

It took me two hours to clean up the entire mess, and the carpet is still not completely clean.

I know that I will laugh about this one day.

Not today, but maybe one day.