Yet another successful ploy to get into Mommy's Bed

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Long time friends know of my penultimate battle to get my daughter ( soon to be 8 People!!! - 8 years old!!!) to keep her behind in her own bed, Asleep, All Night.

If you are new to the horror that has been my sleeping pattern for the last,

oh I don't know - Did I mention 8 YEARS!, then look here and here:

For a week last month she faked me out. She slept all night in her own bed. No complaints, no fussing. Out cold. It was bizarre. You know, bizarre in the way that makes you want to poke the sleeping baby to make sure it is still alive? I didn;t mention it to anyone. I mean, I am too jaded to believe that this pattern would sustain itself beyond this heaven sent week.

But last night? She unveiled the coup de grace of her master plan. Last night she had the "non descript belly pain".

I think the TV sleep timer had just gone off in my room. This would be the universal signal that I must be asleep, so any serious attempts to infiltrate my bed can be safely launched.

The whimpering started first. When I didn't wake to that, the sharp yelps of pain joined into the chorus of noise. I called out, "Emily are you Ok?" and with the speed of Apollo Ohno, she vaulted into my bed.

Em: "My belly hurts."
Me:(Still mostly asleep) hummm? Your belly? Do you feel like you have to throw up?

I am now fully awake and sitting up. I have moved from out cold to high puke alert in less than 60 seconds. I do not want her to puke in my bed. The mess alone, not to mention the lingering waft of vomit will really put a damper on my den of comfort. I may have actually been half way out of my bed and moving her in the general direction of the bathroom.

Em: No, I don't have to throw up.
Me: Do you have to poop?

Moms are the hardy souls who will always inquire regarding pooping. I followed this up with:

Me: Did you poop at all today?

Which may be one of the lines I once swore that I would never ask my own child. My mother was a pediatric nurse and my bowel movements were of prime interest. Hey, at least I didn't ask color and/or consistancy...Yet.

Em: OWWWWWW! ( grabbing side dramatically)
Me: Show me where it hurts.

The lights are on in the bedroom.I am now in prime Mommy/Child Care professional assessor mode. I am looking at the color of skin, I am taking temp readings with my bare hands, I am looking for rashes or other indicators of avian flu or ebola. I am pressing into the indicated spot to feel for bulges, lumps of any other certain signs of ...something.

Em: Mommy, don't. That hurts.
Me: Can you try to go potty honey? Just try? That may help you feel better.

The damn toilet. I know it isn't a cure all, but there is some thing ingrained in me which HAS to suggest the toilet to her. No fever, no lip quiver indicating certain vomiting will commence, no rash, no lump or other alien distended space in her stomach

My mind does the logical thing. It leaps to her Appendix Bursting. Yes, that must be it. Here she is, about to die and I am asking her to poop.

It is time to wake the Daddy.

Now, those of you who are Moms - back me up here. I try not to involve my husband in these types of situations. He lends a certain unneccesary hysteria to the whole process. I then have to fight the urge to pop him in the nose for saying things like "IS THAT BLOOD!" with my urge to comfort my sick child and assure her she isn't bleeding to death.

Me: Terrance? TERRANCE. Terrance, come here.

I assume that I have a special voice which indicates "Get your ass here right now", cause he appeared nearly immediately.

Me: Her Belly hurts.
Terrance: What? Is she going to throw up?

Again with the puking. We have been burned more than once, you can tell. Emily is rolling around holding her belly and whimpering

Me: No, she is really acting like it hurts. I don't know what it is.
Terrance: Do you think we need to?
Me: I don't know - what do you think?
Terrance: Well, the co pay is 50 bucks, so if it's gas

Ah yes, Thank you HMO America for popping into our discussion. The emergency room visit co-pay is 50 bucks, so to drive an hour to the hospital and then be told it's nothing AND pay 50 bucks seems a slap in the parenting face.

Me: Maybe we should wait a little bit and see if it eases.

Emily moans and rolls very dramatically.

Me: Ok. Let's go to the emergency room.
Terrance: I'll take her - you stay here.

As if, buddy. I have enough issues as a Mother without that tidbit of guilt. So off we go, into the 20 below night, headed the 20 miles to the hospital. Predictably, ten minutes before we make it to the hospital she announces from the back:

Em: "Hey! I feel fine!"

So we turn around and drive back home, where Emily crawls into bed with me and sleeps peacefully all night.

She Wins!!

15 Baleful Regards:

Anonymous said...

Oy! Thankfully, while my kids have always liked to nap with me (and me with them), they always liked their own beds at night, so I know nothing of your struggle (though you have all my compassion).

I do, however, know about middle of the night ER visits 'just in case'.

More power to ya, you're gonna need it!

Anonymous said...

Girl, that's a rough one... No more of those - perhaps get her into an acting class :)

Anonymous said...

i know it's good that she okay.,...and you didn't get as far as forking over the 50 clams....but I would be a wee bit upset.

ANd I am sure we did this to our mom (tho it was usually to get out of going to school).

good luck with the transition.

Anonymous said...

God, she's a crafty one. Glad to hear that all is well but . . .damn.

I repeat. Damn.

Anonymous said...

Is it wrong of me to say that totally sounds like something I would have done at her age?

IzzyMom said...

"high puke alert" I am all too familiar with that term. This one --> "Do you have to poop?" is a close second that always gets asked whenever there's even a hint of non-specific stomach pain. lololol...I never imagined I'd be asking anyone that question on a weekly and sometimes daily basis :-)

Lisa said...

Oh wow. Your daughter and my son could fall in love someday and have children that would REALLY give them a run for their money. We should introduce them when they are older. Our future grandkids could be their karma!

I know what you mean about the high puke alert.

And I read your comment on my post. Easter Crackpipes! hahhhahahahaha.

Anonymous said...

I'm gonna have to echo TB on this one.

Mom says that I used to stand by her bed and watch her sleep. She knew better than to open her eyes, but she could hear me breathing.

mamatulip said...

Oh, now that's a good time.

And I hear you with the toilet suggestion. Julia told me this morning her tummy hurt and the first thing I said was, "Do you have to poo? Let's go poo, okay? Just push a little and see if something comes out."

The Gradual Gardener said...

Now take the 50 bucks and treat yourself to something...Shoes, maybe?

Sugarmama said...

God, this reminds me of SO many conversations with my own almost-8-year old! I've never made it out the door to the emergency room, I'm happy to say, but otherwise this has happened to me about a bajillion times. Maybe they should enroll in acting classes together?

Diana said...

OMG! That little...charge her for the gas!!! Wait, did you guys take the Benz???
More signs that my son will never get out of my bed!!! AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!!!

Anonymous said...

Big-A has a friend who faked a broken arm to get out of staying at school one day when she was having a rough morning. She faked it all the way to the hospital, in the emergency room for 2 hours, and then it was miraculously fine the minute the x-ray was done. She is FOUR.

Julie Marsh said...

Dawn, I really didn't mean to laugh. But damn, is Em funny (and you too).

Nancy, that story is CRAZY.

Sounds like we all need to tell the story of the little boy (or girl) who cried wolf...

halloweenlover said...

So did she have to poop? What was it? Do you really think she was pretending? I know she's brilliant, but THAT brilliant? Holy smokes.

She is just too much.

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