Monday, May 29, 2006

two steps forward, one step back

so, i know you're dying to know, how is the sleeping going?

the long answer is:

right after we went through the change there was an almost total reversal due to a nasty cold that kept him up at night horking and snotting, and i feared that all was lost. but once the germs left the building, we were back on track, though there was still some major heavy lifting to be done: he started waking up earlier, around 2:30 or 3:30, and asking for the ba-boo. now, when he was sleeping till 4 or 5, i was fine with giving him the ba-boo when he woke up, after which he would sleep for another couple of hours. but earlier than that? i had to just say no.

i don't think i can fairly represent the pathetic-ness of the cry of "ba-booooo? ba-boooooo?" that wile would subject me to when i went in at the earlier waking and didn't make with the boob. it was quavering and weak, yet insistent, tearful and indignant and filled with all the sorrow that the world has ever known. and i'm in a weakened state, my brain addled from being ripped from a sound sleep. let me tell you, he nearly broke me a couple of times. but i stayed firm. i found that talking to him—which all the books tell you never to do, no words, no, no, don't speak, don't speak—helped; if i calmly told him that he had already had ba-boo, and that it was time to sleep now, he calmed down a lot faster. there were several nights of this kind of negotiation, then a couple of nights where i went in, there were maybe one or two reps of "ba-booooo?" and then he was back asleep. sweeeeet!

yeah. then there were the past few nights, when i would go in when he woke up at three and he would "ba-booooo?" for 20 minutes, clawing at my shirt the whole time. then, after he finally gave up, exhausted and defeated, and flopped himself down on his pillow and fell back asleep, he'd wake up again at 6:30. not. acceptable.

but! then last night, he slept from 9 till 5:45, then till 8. it was a beautiful thing.

the going to bed alone, however, seems to be here to stay. there were a coupe of nights last week that gave me a little scare—i put him down, he was silent for about 5 minutes, then up and crying (ma-maaaa! ma-maaaa!) and needed me to come up and lay with him for a couple of minutes until he calmed down. the second night this happened, i had to go up twice. but that seems to have just been a little blip. most nights he's down no problem, and saturday night we had a sitter and he didn't give her any guff, said good night and went right down.

and then last night.... stephen and i were both in with him after bath getting his diaper and pajamas on, then he gave us both kisses and hugs, then i was about to take him from stephen to say goodnight to his things and sing and put him down when he looked at us and said "bye" and then looked at the bed and said "down!" ooookay! don't have to ask me twice! stephen put him in the bed, he lay down, and we took off. not another peep till 4:45....

so the short answer is:

meh.... but a mostly positive meh.

of course, i'm sure our upcoming trip out to california, to sleep in strange beds in a different time zone and probably not be able to keep to the nice regular schedule we follow here at home, is going to shoot any progress we've managed to make all to shit.

oh and speaking of sleeping, i found out on friday what happens to wile when he doesn't nap. in short: he loses his marbles. we took a trip in to the city to do some shopping, and of course he wouldn't nap in his stroller (which he does just fine, all the time, on the boring old relatively-quiet brooklyn streets, but not in super-exciting manhattan, apparently...). so we gave up and just plowed on to h+m, where he spent almost the entirety of our 45 minutes in the store running laps around the baby department, barefoot and pants-less, throttling two little stuffed monkeys—one in each hand—that he had grabbed from a display, shrieking and yipping like a purse dog on uppers: "yi! yi! yi! yi! yi! yi! yi! yi! yi!"

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