Real Men Sing Lullabys In The Middle Of The Night

I expect children to wake up sometimes in the middle of the night. They live in a world of dogs the size of cars, and people the size of Goliath. Who wouldn't have nightmares? Remember when broccoli resembled a mid sized tree?

I don't however, have the foggiest clue what Charlie's problem is right now. He's always been a hard one to figure out, because unlike Jamie, Charlie is pretty laid back and chill about everything. So when he wakes up in the middle of the night, night-after-night, screaming bloody murder, it's well-- odd. It's even odder when he refuses all attempts of help. He throws his pacifier, arches his back, picks a fight with his blanket (and loses. Those things are flexible buggars), and pushes away any loving hand that ventures near to pat and soothe. So we eventually leave him to work it out on his own. Which can take hours, and hours, and a few more hours. I realize that as a mom, I can't really expect to get a full nights sleep in oh...ten years or so? Hopefully? But in the meantime, I'm really not fond of the extra missing chunk. I get so frustrated in fact, that I stomp around the house at 3 a.m. slamming cupboards as I search for baby tylenol, turning on every light and daring anyone else to wake up.

Jim somehow, can sleep through his child wailing like a howler monkey on helium. But it's unfair, because when he does eventually wake up (which may or may not be caused by objects thrown at him), he has the patience of a saint.

It takes a special kind of person to pace the floors with a hysterical baby, in the middle of the night, for hours, and make up fake lulubyes, even when you hate singing. Clearly, Jim is better at this job than I am.

Oh, and any suggestions for the Charles unit would be much appreciated.