Last night I totally crumbled and let Sander sleep on my chest. (That's not why I'm a chicken though.) The pediatrician tells me that I need to get in the habit of putting my baby down when he is drowsy so he can learn to put himself to sleep or else life will just get harder as he gets older.
The thing is, he doesn't really have a hard time putting himself to sleep- he has a hard time staying that way. During the day I can only get him to nap for maybe an hour at a time before he wakes himself up thus ensuing a vicious cycle of fussy, sleepy baby that gets harder and harder to actually put back to sleep because he is so tired from his interrupted naps.
So I crumbled. When he fell asleep on my chest I decided I would just enjoy the moment.
Plus, he smells so delicious and his head is so soft! I love being able to cuddle him and bend my head to kiss him at a moment's whim because he is so close!
Unfortunately, once a child is sleeping on you, any movement will wake the child up. So, once I ran out of things to do on my computer I decided to watch something on hulu to entertain me while Sander finished his nap. Unfortunately, nothing really caught my eye until I saw Angel with that stud muffin David Boreanaz.
I've never really watched the series but I figured, why not, since I had nothing better to do since I was holding Sander. So I started streaming a random episode from Netflix (no commercials!) which turned out to be about a poltergeist. It's not until after I finish watching it that I realize that I am totally alone, in this really big house, during the night, with a killer poltergeist on the rampage forefront in my mind.
I have an extremely over-active imagination which is why I stay away from anything even remotely scary. (Earnest Scared Stupid scared the crap out of me for weeks when I was younger and I kept imagining that bus drivers head popping out at me from behind doors and inside chests of drawers.) But I really didn't think Angel would affect me- well, it did.
I called Casey like 4 times before I realized he wasn't going to answer his phone so I holed myself up nice and good in the upstairs TV room, with ALL the lights on, watching a happy-go-lucky movie from my childhood to distract me, Harriet The Spy. Casey finally called me and told me that he was going to be WAY late, like he has been every night this week because work has been insane, and I should probably just try not to think about it and get to bed.
Uh-uoh. No way. I can't walk down the hallway without feeling the constant urge to look behind me and there is NO WAY I am bending over the sink to wash my face just to look up in the mirror and see some scary dead woman standing behind me.
Eventually I was tired enough to go downstairs and get ready for bed- plus the incessant need to pump got the better of me. (There is NOTHING worse than having more milk than you can get rid of.)
I thought I was tired enough to get over my scare, but I still lay in bed reading with all the lights on until my husband came home at 11:45. Thank goodness! Finally I was able to sleep although I was plagued by nightmares half of the night....
No more Angel for me. I'm staying AWAY from scary stuff from now on!
Am I a wuss or what?