Once an Iowan, Always an Iowan

This weekend I had to go to Michigan to give a paper at a conference. I’m not a big fan of conferences (I dread talking to strangers about my “work”), and so it was sort of a relief that breastfeeding Thomas meant that I couldn’t ditch my guys at home and attend the whole conference (Wed. through Sun.) by myself. Since my paper wasn’t until Sunday, we decided that Will and Thomas would tag along and we’d just make the trip over on Saturday and back on Sunday after my panel.

It actually worked out nicely, because we have good friends from college who currently live in Michigan but who’ll be moving to Texas next month, so we had a good excuse to see them for a few hours. We chilled at their house for a little while and then went out to dinner, and then right around Thomas’ bedtime, we packed him and ourselves back in the car to travel the 1.5 hours to the city where the conference was held. I fed him and he fell beautifully to sleep.

He has actually been very good lately about being transferred from the car to his bed, but on Saturday night it didn’t work that way. As soon as I unlatched the carseat, he immediately opened his eyes, smiled, and then got wide-eyed and giddy as he realized, “hey! it’s the middle of the night! i’m awake! awesome!”

We took him upstairs and discovered that by some blessed twist of fate, out hotel room was a mini-suite, with a door between the sleeping area and the table/TV/bathroom area. I could’t believe my luck, since I (of course) was not finished with my paper yet and had been dreading sitting in a dark room trying to finish that last paragraph. I set up the pack ‘n play in the bedroom area, put Thomas in his pajamas, read him his books, and nursed him. He was a little squirmy, but fell asleep fairly quickly.

When I put him in his bed, though, he immediately woke up, sat up, stood up, and screamed. At home I would normally let him cry, because he almost always goes back to sleep within 5 or fewer minutes, but we were in a hotel and I knew that the people on either side could hear him. So I picked him up, nursed him again, and hoped he’d go right back to sleep.

But he didn’t. In fact, he got squirmier. He would calm down for a minute or two, then arch his back, squirm, writhe, and complain. By now it was 12:30 or so Eastern time, 11:30 as far as my body was concerned. But the clock was beginning to tick; I had to give my paper at 10:30 eastern and hoped I’d get some sleep in the meantime. I handed Thomas to Will and tried to make some progress.

Thomas was not particularly happy with this development and complained loudly for a while, though Will eventually began reading to him and he settled down. But there were little grunts and groans periodically, and eventually Will came out in to the other room.

“He just pooped,” said Will. Thomas grinned and laughed in the way that only a deliriously tired 10-month-old can. It’s maddening when you want to be annoyed at a little one’s refusal to sleep but he’s so cheerfully laughing and smiling that you can’t help but be charmed.

So, we changed his diaper. And I nursed him again. And put him in his bed. And he woke up. And stood up. And cried. And I handed him over to Will. And he squirmed and cried and grunted as I tried to write my paper in the next room. It was now 1:30 Eastern.

Finally Will came out again, because Thomas had pooped again and he needed yet another diaper change. And so we changed the diaper, and I took him (once again cheerful) back to the bedroom. And I nursed him. And mercifully, he actually went to sleep.

I finally “finished” (okay, gave up on) my paper an hour or so later, and went to bed around 3:00 Eastern. And of course, Thomas woke up at 6:00.

To make this too-long story a little shorter, though, my paper went fairly well, and then Thomas slept beautifully almost all the way back to Chicago, where we stopped to hang out with T, J, and their little F, who’s going to be Thomas’ prom date in a few years. As you can see, they’re already practicing their dance moves: