I’m currently sitting in my living room, about an hour into listening to Teddy “cry it out.”
Although I’ve read mixed reviews, criticisms, and techniques on how to get a baby to sleep alone, in his crib, through the night, without strapping him into a particular bouncy chair (amen!) the general consensus is you’re going to have to tough it out at one point or another, and you should do it before they learn real words and scream “WHY MOMMY WHYYYY” while you do.
The problem is we’ve already gone through this, oh, about EIGHT times because the poor kid keeps getting sick, so we revert back to his chair in our room so he’s upright enough for his sinuses to drain and we can tend to him the five or so times he wakes up throughout the night. All good sleep habits die hard.
Hello, month nine.
Yep, we are still at it. Not sleeping. Praying for a day that my alarm clock actually wakes me up at 6 am, instead of the baby at 4:30. (I still set it every night. Either because I am an optimist who believes that day might actually arrive, or a pessimist who still fears I will manage to be late regardless of the circumstances.)
At any rate, I am in need of distraction at the moment. So I figured I might as well blog about, whether or not anyone wants to read about it.
Holding my breath.
The room falls quiet and my heart races towards hope as I think his strong will has bent to drowsiness.
Ohhh, no. Nope. Mistaken. He was just pausing to take a breath before launching back into it at 135%. Nothing but a pitstop.
He was just refueling.