Ohhhh, Lord. Lately, our house has been
lovingly irritatingly deemed, “land of the Walking Dead.” No, we’re not hosting a “hug your favorite zombie,” event. Gabe has, for quite some time now, had some pretty intense nightmares (involving favorite cartoon characters, no less), and I have been suffering from a severe case of pregnancy-induced insomnia. Also, we have a tomcat that pretty much calls our side yard “home” and howls… bellows… hell. He’s just loud as shit until ungodly hours of the night. Our cat “found” him and the two correspond in nerve-wrenching cat speak until we have enough and put her out of our room (yay for simple solutions!). At the risk of angering anyone from PETA, I’m about ready to put the other cat out of our his misery. Because seriously… clam up.
But my boy. It’s pitiful, really. He’ll get up between 11:30 and 2 and just stand in the hall, audibly upset. Sometimes we find him on the couch, and occasionally he’ll come get one, or both of us, up. Until recently, we couldn’t put our finger on what was giving him these nightmares. We’re pretty careful about what we watch in front of him and he doesn’t watch anything that would give him night terrors.
Or so we thought.
Finally, a few weeks ago, he clued us in that the “ghosts” in his room –ready for this??– are Scooby Doo ghosts. Hold on, say whaaa? I’ve let him watch the old Scooby Doo’s for a while now. I loved them when I was a kid and, even though there’s no “value” to the cartoon outside of sheer entertainment, I thought it would be something okay for him. Something he’d enjoy. Because, really, what little guy doesn’t adore that speech-impaired dog? But, nevertheless, we cut out Scoob. And still the nightmares continued.
One night while we were still up he came to get Ev to remove the ghost. So, in they marched. Equipped with a spray bottle of water, Evan and Gabe hollered, “Get outta here, ghost!” It seemed to work for a few nights, but to no avail, picked right back up. Once again, Evan went in to calm Gabe down and it must have dawned on him the problem (thank God, ’cause it never would have occurred to me): the “ghost” could be the white fort Gabe had in the corner of his room. So down it came.
And voilà! Ghost-be-gone. Gabe has been nightmare free for a week now. Thank GOD. At least someone in the house is sleeping. And, to be honest, hearing a the faint noise of a child crying at 2am? That’s pretty frightening in and of itself. Now if we could just solve, “The Mystery of the Sleepless Mommy.” Maybe my insomnia is just bracing me for sleepless nights when Connor arrives? Good lookin’ out, self. Good lookin’ out.
And to all you other momma’s out there: Happy Mother’s Day!