The One-Inning Scream

The Imp has started screaming at bedtime again, or shortly thereafter.

The good news is that he's not holding out for thirty minutes of rocking with Mommy.

The bad news is that he is, instead, holding out for an inning of baseball (watched) with Daddy.

On the bright side, at least an inning doesn't last a whole thirty minutes.

Does it?

My Baby Guy is Growin' Up....

Last night was miserable for pretty much everyone in my house.  It's a toss-up as to whether it was worse for me or for my husband, as he was up more times than I was, but it usually only takes him about five minutes to get back into snore snooze-land.  On the other hand, although I was only up once, I have a raging cold right now and it takes me about forty minutes to fall back asleep...if I'm lucky.

So, why were we up?

I'll give you three guesses.

Yup, kids woke up screaming.  Three times.  Two kids, three times.

But, as you can probably figure from the title, our miserable night isn't exactly the point of my story.  It just sets up the circumstances.

About 2:50, the Baby Guy woke up screaming.  I let him go for a couple of minutes, because sometimes he will fuss himself back to sleep, but it quickly became clear that this wasn't going to be one of those times.  My husband was up with him the night before and it seemed to go pretty well (he was only up there for 15-20 minutes or so), so I asked him what he did.  "Turned on his music and held him until it stopped, then put him back down and he went back to sleep."

Ahhh.  The Standard.  Also The Best Scenario.  I figured I'd try that, but suspected it wouldn't go quite as well for me.  The Baby Guy is a Mommy's Boy, and I was afraid that when he realized it was Mommy who was holding him, one run of the music wouldn't be enough.  But I trudged up the stairs and went into his room, determined to at least give it a try.

Little guy snuggled into my shoulder immediately when I picked him up.  Even at 2:50 a.m., the snuggles can make me melt.  He put his arms as far around me as they would go and held on tight.  It was sweet, but also didn't bode well for putting him back down.

The music played.  I stood and rocked.  Baby Guy clung.  About ten minutes passed, and then something unexpected happened.  My little guy did something he has never done before.  He pulled away from me and looked down into his crib, then looked back at me.

"Do you want to get back in bed?"  I asked.

"Yes," he replied (using one of the five or so words of his that we can actually understand).

I blinked a couple of times, then kissed him, and put him back in his crib.  He didn't fuss.  I was amazed.  I covered him up, restarted his music, and left the room.  He stayed quiet.  I went back to bed and happily fell asleep went into my bathroom, took a (generic) Mucinex, then got back in bed and lay there hacking my head off for fifteen minutes while I waited for the requisite 4 hours to be up so I could take two more puffs on my the Birdie's Xopenex inhaler.  Then I lay awake for another 20 minutes listening to my husband snore sleep.  Ahh, the joys of being...sick.

But, only 20 minutes?  That's not too bad, right?  Yes, well, 20 minutes wouldn't have been bad if I had then fallen asleep, but what actually broke things up again was the sound of more crying.  The Baby Guy was awake again.  This time, my husband went up, and fortunately, it went as smoothly as my trip, with the Baby Guy again agreeing to be put down early.

And then, about an hour later, the Birdie woke up.  I asked my husband if he would go up even though it was my turn, and he took pity on me and went.  Again, we were fortunate since she had only kicked her covers off and replacing them was all it took to calm her down.

The rest of the night went fairly well, and I was eventually able to fall back asleep.  I'm sure you're happy to hear that.

Anyway, returning to my original point - the Baby Guy has never before indicated he was ready to get back in bed during one of these middle-of-the-night visits.  It's always been a case of me putting him down and hoping desperately while tiptoeing out of the room as softly as I could.  So I was surprised and pleased that he chose to go back to bed on his own last night, and I hope this is a new habit for him.

Night Three

He slept all night! Woo hoo!!

Now if we can only figure out how to get my daughter back to sleeping all night, we'll be in business.

Nights One & Two (or Trudge, Trudge, Trudge, Trudge)

Night One went almost better than I could have imagined, with the Baby Guy waking only once, around two-ish. This was pretty consistent with his usual schedule, but - but - he went back to sleep with two playings of the musical soother on his crib. And here is the important part: without a bottle.

I can probably count on one hand the number of times he has not insisted on a bottle (or two) overnight, or at least I could if I could remember them. This was a huge accomplishment. Huge.

And encouraging, of course. Could it be that this truly would be a new beginning, a new era of baby sleeping that didn't include a bottle overnight?

Maybe. But, as you might guess from the fact that I'm writing this post at 2:45 the next night (or next-next morning, in fact), Night Two is not going quite as well. This is not too alarming, because what would be a step forward without a step back? Plus, there were other factors that went into play tonight: he didn't eat quite as much today as he did yesterday (I'm guessing); my parents watched him all day while my husband and I played (the reason I'm guessing about the food); my parents put him to bed at their house before we picked him up around 10:30 p.m., and then we didn't get home until midnight-ish, when I put him back to bed for real; and, because of the craziness surrounding bedtime tonight, he didn't get any ibuprofen before bed.

So, yeah. It wasn't exactly a normal bedtime. So it's not truly alarming that it's been a little bit of a rougher night. He woke up fussing a bit before 2 a.m. I trudged upstairs, hugged him, settled him back in bed (I know, and I wouldn't pick him up, but he had escaped his covers so he needed to be settled anyway), and turned on Winnie-the-Pooh (the bedtime music crib soother thingie).

Then I returned to bed to listen to that on the monitor as it played over and over for about fifteen minutes.

Winnie-the-Pooh
Winnie-the-Pooh
Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff, He's
Winnie-the-Pooh
Winnie-the-Pooh
Willy nilly silly ole bear!

Of course, there aren't any words on the crib soother, it's instrumental, but don't worry, my brain filled those in all on its own.

Oh, and the fussing. Don't forget the fussing. Because of course he didn't settle down. So I sighed, and groaned, and was about to trudge (there really isn't any other word for it) back up to re-settle him and turn Winnie-the-Pooh back on, when my husband got out of bed. "Where are you going?" I inquired. "Up to turn Winnie-the-Pooh back on." All right! Ooh - but - "Make sure you give him some ibuprofen!" Because I forgot the first time, and I'm pretty sure my teething little prince needed it.

Husband came back. Baby still fussing. Sigh. So, a third trudge, up I go, pick up the baby and hug him, and he just melts into my shoulder like that's where he really wants to sleep all night. Very sweet, precious, adorable...but, um, no, but thanks anyway. I settled him back in, to the misery of all involved (or maybe it was just him), turned Winnie-the-Pooh back on for yet another run (let's see how long those four D-batteries last, haha!) took some ibuprofen for myself, and settled down on the couch to write this post.

Because, at least that way, if I had to soothe him again, at least the trudge would be shorter this time. No stairs involved, anyway. Not enjoying the stairs at 2 a.m. At all.

As of now, he's been quiet for most of the time I spent writing this post. He's made a peep every now and then, but I am at least a little hopeful that we might avoid the warm milk again tonight. A little.

A New Beginning?

Tonight is our Baby Guy's first night in his own room. Yes, yes, YES. I know. Fifteen-and-a-half months old. Beyond due. I know.

Now that we're past that...

We have been toying with the idea of putting him in his own room for weeks, now. Months. Years. Oh, wait.

We were all set to do it last weekend, and then he went and got sick, and we decided a major upheaval probably wasn't in anyone's best interest.

We had planned on this weekend, then. The Bitty Girl would stay with my parents all weekend and we would be free to get the Baby Guy transitioned into his own room, his own bed...all night long...no matter how noisy it got, without fear of him disturbing his sister in the next room. But then our plans changed again, and our daughter stayed home, so I didn't think we were going to do it this weekend.

Then, five minutes before bedtime, my husband starts puttering around in the Baby Guy's room. He comes out with the video monitor and the apparent intent of using it tonight. "What are you doing with that?" I asked.

"I thought we could go ahead and put him in his room tonight anyway."

Despite my misgivings about doing it while the Bitty Girl is here, I didn't argue because I do want my son in his own room. As much as I love the proximity of having him in our bedroom, it just isn't a good long-term solution for us.

As I was sitting in the living room, I heard my husband laughing. My son likes his crib. It's bouncy. He stood at the side, held onto the rail, and jumped, and grinned. It was adorable.

I got my son's sleeping items - his blankets, his Lion, his Glowy Bear, and of course, the ubiquitous green stacking ring - and brought them upstairs. He got a little excited when he noticed me bringing them up the steps, and I think that's when he realized Something Was Up. I dumped them in the crib, brushed his teeth poked at his mouth with his toothbrush while he clamped his lips shut, whipped his head back and forth, and wailed, then dumped him in the crib.

He picked up his toys, showing them to me one by one as if to say, "Look, here are my friends! But what are they doing in here?"

And then he found out.

So far, so good. He went to sleep without a peep. See?

However, while many parents would find that encouraging, for me, that was no more than I had expected. Falling asleep is not a problem with him, regardless of where he is, for the most part. If he's ready to go to sleep (or often if it just seems to be expected of him) he will typically oblige.

No, falling asleep isn't the problem. It's staying asleep. So in another hour or three, we will know the truth. Will he sleep all night? Or will he wake up screaming, as usual, insisting on a bottle of warm rice milk? Will he wake the Birdie, thus causing her to also insist on a serving of warm milk in the middle of the night?

Probably. But maybe not. A parent can hope.

Stay tuned.