Last night we dropped Sam off at the childcare at the gym for parents night out. "It's a kid's party!" we told him. "No grown-ups!" he screamed and went haring off towards the climbing maze. No tearful looks back over his shoulder, no trembling parting, not even a "have a lovely night, Mother and Father." I think he may have mumbled "bye" but I can't be certain.
After a thrilling half-hour of running errands, R and I wound up at a rather unprepossessing little joint called "Kabob House." People. The food is amazing. The stewed pumpkin was, well, orgasmic. After dinner we rented an R-rated movie, watched it, picked up an exhausted but very happy little man, and came home congratulating ourselves on an awesome night for all concerned.
Then we all woke up around 1:45. Sam had this awful, horrible, barky cough, and a very frightening wheezing, rattling sound when he was breathing. Croup is scary shit, y'all. Fortunately, it is more scary than dangerous (usually. We know a darling little boy who has a disturbing tendency to wind up in the PICU with croup, but he's rather the exception that proves the rule.). R got Sam calmed down, a call to the doctor got me calmed down, and within half an hour Sam's breathing was considerably easier. R spent the whole night with Sam on his lap, while I went back to bed.
It is not easy or natural going back to bed when your kid is suffering. But I really suck without sleep. And Sam's dad was totally and completely meeting his needs. All I would have contributed would have been a fretting and increasingly ill-tempered body in the room. Whereas if I went to sleep I could provide a relief shift whenever R needed it. And I also knew that I would need to be on for tonight so R could get a full night of sleep before heading into work.
So tonight the wee little boy is tucked up into our bed, so that when the croup hits again we can handle it with a minimum of disruption to all involved. R will be bedding down in Sam's room so he can sleep undisturbed. That's how we roll.