The Snuggle Monkey On My Back.

We've been fighting with Griffin at night.  Fighting to get him to sleep in his Own.  Damn.  Bed.  

Step one: get him to fall asleep without a warm body snuggled up next to him.  I don't particularly like step one, because there's nothing I enjoy more than snuggling up with his little self and drifting off to sleep.  When he looks at me and says "'nuggle, Mama" my heart just melts.  The only trouble is, I can't snuggle every single night.  AND, snuggles at bedtime means that my little snuggle-monkey needs snuggles when he wakes up as the clock strikes 3....which, you can bet, means he's crawling into our bed for those snuggles.  So we persist with step one.

Now, try telling a snuggle addict that he has to swap out his favourite snuggler (moi) for some inanimate floppy bear and a blanket, and you see how that goes over!

Last night, Steve fought the good fight while I whooped it up, and kicked bowling ass at the christmas party.  Here's how it went:

Griffin freaks out as Daddy leaves his bedroom.  He stands on the landing and cries his snuggle-less eyes out, while Daddy reads his book below.  Then...he stops crying.  He goofs around on the landing for a bit.  Plays with the chirstmas decor, with Daddy all the while quietly reading below.  Suddenly, he's gone.  Steve looks up, and the child is no where to be seen.  He hears snoring, and feeling a bit proud of the child (and of himself) hangs out reading his book and awaiting the return of his Queen of the Bowl.

When the Bowling Queen returns, she too is proud of the child, and the husband.  She decides to go peer at the child and tuck him in, her big boy sleeping in his big boy bed, all by his snuggle-free self.  She reaches the top of the landing, only to discover...

The big boy is not at all in his big boy bed.  He is indeed asleep, and he is indeed snoring, but he's sound asleep and snoring on top of a nice big stinko pile of dirty sheets and towels that his "I'm too busy bowling to do the damn laundry" mother left in a nasty pile at the top of the stairs!  

Want to hear the part that's even sadder than a child sound asleep perched atop a stinky pile of laundry?  The saddest part of all was that my nurturing Mom instinct kicked in and I moved the child to his bed and tucked him in, all before my blogging Mom instinct even had a chance to activate.  Only after the child was safely tucked in did I realize that I should have taken a PICTURE of the sad state of affairs, BEFORE moving the child! 

Oh well.  At least the kid slept, for the majority of the night.  There was still some 3am snuggles.  But he is sleeping once again, this time in his bed.  On clean sheets.  

I, on the other hand, am in a sorry state.  It appears that my mad mad bowling skillz (or my mad mad snuggling skillz) have left me with a pinched nerve in my neck somewhere.  Half of my right hand and arm are numb, and every once in a while, my thumb and my pointer finger break out in a twitchy, spontaneous dance.  

It's seriously hot, trust me.  

I received a thorough beating from my acupuncture friend this evening, and expect to receive another beating from my chiropractor tomorrow.  I'm hoping that somewhere along the way someone tells me that the best course of therapy is to sit on the couch all weekend with a book and a heating pad, while my husband brings me Baileys and massages my feet for good measure.