OK, OK, OK, enough sports talk for a while. How about we go back to a topic that I haven't brought up for at least 24 hours? Such as: why-oh-why-oh-why-oh-why is Alexis still refusing to sleep through the night without seeing me? Saturday she had an excuse; the dogs kept waking her up. Daddy was at that big event that we are no longer talking about, so the dogs thought they were on guard duty. Every time the house would creak, the woofing would start. Woofing was followed by wailing. Wailing was followed by more wailing--mine. It's a wonder those two furry buttholes survived the night because I was seriously contemplating what kind of tasty snacks could be made out of Lhasa Apso and Bulldog meat. I just might consider leaving vegetarianism behind if it meant I could really put an end once and for all to the incessant barking.

During one of the five (yes, five) times that Alexis woke up Saturday night, I switched strategies. I figured it wasn't really her fault she was awake and upset since hearing two dogs act like the burglar is climbing the stairs would shake anybody up. I went into her room the second I heard her and picked her up. She immediately calmed down and asked to cuddle for a second. That is one request that I will never deny the kid, but since I was barely conscious, she only got maybe 30 seconds of cuddles before I stumbled back to her crib. Her eyes popped wide open just as I was about to set her down, so I cringed, just waiting for the Toddler siren to go off. It didn't. Instead, she rolled over and went to sleep.

Even in my disappointed and sleepy stupor, that struck me as not quite right. Any other time in her life that she has gone through a wake-up all living and dead species in the county during the middle of the night phase, putting her back in her crib has been met with a big ol' fight. As I lie awake listening to the dulcet tones of Bulldog snoring (much sarcasm is dripping right there, just in case you can't see it), I kept thinking about the fact that this whole phase she's in doesn't make sense. It has never taken more than two nights of pretending that I'm as deaf as my husband for her to go back to sleeping through the night. She's stubborn, but she's not that stubborn. So methinks something is awry. I don't know whether to blame those rotten little molars that occasionally make everyone in the tri-state area miserable, but have yet to poke through, or if maybe she's having vivid dreams and just needs a momentary reminder that all is well.

Either way, I decided it was time to fight fire with fire. I mean, if the kid is going to jack up my sleeping routine, why wouldn't I jack up her sleeping routine? Oh yeah, we brought on the Toddler bed. It's not like I was getting any sleep with her in her crib, I might as well just throw a grenade into the mix. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, when she woke up and was feeling freaky, she would just wander down the hall where I would give her a hug from the warmth of my bed and then send her on her way. I like to dream big, you know. If I can't sleep uninterrupted all night, I should at least get to stay in my bed.

Last night was the first night of Toddler bed torture, and I learned very quickly that there was one fatal flaw in my plan. The Toddler doesn't realize she can get out of her bed. Yup, she's one of those kids that stands on her bed in exactly the same spot she did when it was a crib, and screams for help. Three times last night. The only difference between crib life and bed life was that there was nothing to hold onto while she stood up, and that pissed her off. Big time.

Oh well, I guess I can sleep when I'm dead. I estimate that every day survived with a Toddler in the house cuts a year off my life, so it shouldn't be long now.