Score: Mom 1, Paul 0

I snapped at 1:57am. Paul had woken up 30 minutes earlier and I had dutifully scooped him out of the crib and we were in the recliner. And he was, naturally, asleep. And I was not. Nor would I if I stayed in the recliner with him.

And at 1:57am, I decided that he was going back in his crib. Screaming or no screaming. Vomiting or no vomiting. School starts next week and I cannot do this middle-of-the-night thing anymore.

So at 1:58am, Paul went into his crib. Kicking, screaming, wailing, tears, the works. I shut his door, grabbed a blanket and shut our door (Andy had pleasantly offered to take my spot when I got up with Paul) and sat in the living room listening for the telltale gagging that Paul does so well.

About 2:45am, Kevin joined me in the living room and stretched out in the recliner. At 3:10, Kevin left the house for WalMart, spitting out a "I ain't gettin' any %*&%*#$ sleep." (Side note: when my husband gets frustrated or worked up in any manner, he always reverts to poor grammar, double negatives and a lot of cussing. The man knows better than to use the word "ain't" but when he's frustrated, it just comes out so naturally, you'd think he was raised deep in a holler somewhere away from civilization and married to his half-sister.)

Paul kept it up until around 3:45am. I just checked on him and he's still asleep and his room smells fine...as in no vomit.


Round One Score: Mom 1, Paul 0