Foiled Again

Last night was another loss. The Boobahs (dooce) were calling out to us in their creepy sing-song voices, only to be drowned out by Peepers and his angry squawking. Guess who won?
For some odd reason...and I will not argue this point with Roy any further, Peepers required a bottle last night. It has been MY experience that when Peepers eats a late dinner, he does not have need of a last bottle. Peepers can't HAVE bottles after 9pm because of his ability to spit up an entire 6 ounces of lactose-free formula like some sort of garden fount. Peepers ate his dinner, which consisted of Stage 3 Chicken and Vegetable Pasta Gerber and some Gerber Pears, at approximately 7:30pm. This left me only an hour in between his last meal and his latest possible feeding time. Naturally, I assumed he was done for the night. He was bathed, Cris was bathed, covers were tucked in, showers were taken...scanty clothing was assembled strategically and then a chorus of SQUAWKSQUAWKSQUAWK erupted JUST in time.
We gave him Tylenol, we swabbed his gums (or gooms as my gramms would say) with Baby Orajel which he promptly clamped down upon with his two tiny chiclet teeth, we cranked up the Pooh Bear mobile, we gave him his blankie, we danced an Irish jig around the crib and waved rain sticks in the air...er...I mean we ducked and crept away from the crib as though we had mysteriously dropped off the face of the earth...and in retrospect...that may not really be comforting to a squalling infant. We even resorted to laying him down in between us hoping to succeed with the old bait and switch routine...meaning we lull him into a false sense of security until he has drifted into sleep and once we're positive his REM mode is significantly activated, we cautiously dump his unconscious body back into the crib and resume our Boobah Business. HOWEVER. None of these methods seemed to be working...not even when I exclaimed in exasperation..."Okay Miko, this isn't Broadway. Enough of your theatrics." And Roy quipped back..."Yeah, Miko. This isn't the theater and we don't need your Nutcracker."
No...not even THAT subdued him.
Fever? No. Belly ache? No. Mylicon Drops had been dispensed. Well then WHAT THE HECK IS THIS GUY'S PROBLEM?? He was obviously very distressed. Lucky for me, Miko only squawks when something is not right. Bellyache, tooth pain, fever, constipated, or...or...(duh) he's hungry.
And apparently last night that kid was HUNGRY with a CAPITAL H.
Okay fine.
By the time we figured this out and fed him a bottle, it was 11pm, Roy was watching TV in the living room and my Boobah meter had taken a nosedive. I was rumpled, tired and feeling very unappealing so I scooped up the already snoozing Peepers and gently deposited him in his crib. I checked the alarm and slumped into the bed...briefly debated retrieving Roy but figured that the mood was screwed and yet I STILL lay down provocatively (or so I thought) clinging to my pillow in hopes that he may yet chance upon me and wake me up with a kiss...a la Snow White...or was it Sleeping Beauty...or was it both? WhatEVER. He didn't. By the time I was roused from my slumber it was only because I had become caught in the blanket and couldnt roll over.
Tonight, its ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.