At 2:30 am, Henry woke up crying "MAMA," because he had wet his bed-- again. Last evening I had decided he needed to wear a pull-up diaper at night until he woke up dry several days in a row, because I cannot handle an additional wake-up and freak-out by him when I'm already getting up with Agatha several times a night. I don't like to discourage him from wearing underwear, but I can't deal with these wet beds all the time. But at bedtime he talked me out of it-- he really wanted to wear underwear to bed, so I let him. But at 2:30 I was cursing my own stupidity. Michael got up and made everything right with him, but I was still awake and now so fried, frazzled, and enraged at the constant wake-ups that I could not go back to sleep. At 4 am I just decided to get up, to assert some control, because at least if I were awake by choice then I would feel less powerless. Plus I knew Aggie would be waking up for the day around 5 am anyway, and I have work to do-- I teach my seminar today and still need to finish the reading and make the slide presentation, and the main time I would have to work would be during Aggie's morning nap.
So here we are at 5:30 am, Aggie and me, with a full day of work and childcare stretching ahead, unprepared for class, and going on 4.5 hours of fractured sleep.
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