Friday, July 13, 2012

Those Rare Nights Are What Kill Me

I know regular readers are tired of hearing this, but we really were blessed with a good sleeper.

We have officially gotten him on a schedule.  He is up between 7 and 8 each morning.  Nap is at noon.  He sleeps anywhere from 2 to 3 hours, depending on his needs.  Then bedtime is at 9 each night.  We don't wake him for anything, much to the frustration of people who try to plan things in the afternoon.  The family knows his schedule, and we've made a point to let them know (repeatedly) that if it's really important for us to be there to please schedule things a little later.

That mess is a whole 'nother post.


There is still crying/fussing when he is first put down.  It's more being mad that play time is over, and you can tell he is exhausted by the sound.  I think 1 night last month we noticed the cry was different, so we scooped him up and let him play an extra 30 minutes, and then he crashed quickly.  It was just not the time apparently.

We've also had minimal issues when it comes to teething.  We knew when the first 2 teeth pushed through, mainly due to the teething rash, but the other 2 were just suddenly there.

These next teeth are being stubborn.  We've had some days of fever and crabbiness, and even extended naps that had me huddled by the baby monitor to see if I could tell if he was breathing without going into the room and disturbing him.

Then there was 2 nights ago.

Lord, let there be no more nights like that in the near future.

He was asleep by 9:15, but 3 hours later he woke us up from a dead sleep with a cry that sounded like he was being stabbed.

I ran in and picked him up.  That calmed him, so we sat in the rocker/glider, where I drifted in and out of sleep with James doing the same.  At one point, I realized he was asleep, and moved him to his crib.  He whimpered, so I tiptoed out and closed his door.

And the crying began again.

I looked at the clock and realized I'd been in there for about 45 minutes, so I decided to give him about 15 minutes to soothe himself back to sleep.

By 1:30 in the morning, he had been given Tylenol by daddy, and moved to our bed.  He was sleepy, you could tell, but he wanted to sit up and look at the blinds and street light outside.  After about 30 minutes of just watching him, seeing him lean on me and look like he was falling asleep, then standing IN THE BED to go and touch the blinds, I managed to get him in to a position where I was spooning him.  He had a death grip on my arms as they wrapped around him, and that is how we slept for what I think was about 90 minutes.  Maybe 2 hours.

Then he woke up, and it was another mini-wrestling match to get in another position where he could lay flat on the bed, holding my hand, while I laid on my side watching him.

Next thing I know, it's 5:25 AM and I am feeling him twisting.

He couldn't get comfortable, I couldn't get comfortable, and he was moving with his eyes closed in the space between A and myself.

People, I thank heaven every day that we bought a king size bed when we did 2 years ago.

It was time to move James to his crib, and after 5 minutes of crying from a mixture of exhaustion and missing mommy, he was out.

I slept 3 hours, waking up to A reminding me I had to work, and feeling really happy about the fact that my commute was down the hallway.

James slept until after 9.  Then he went down for his nap at 1 and slept another 3 hours.

Which meant he went to bed at 10 last night, and I was in bed before he was completely out.

I hate teething.  With a passion.  Why can't we fast forward through those parts?

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