Operation Night-Night is currently in full swing and so I have a few minutes (fingers crossed for 20) to spend a little quality time with my blog. It's been a while and I thought it was probably time we re-aquainted ourselves.
Of late, we've been implementing a naptime/bedtime routine in hopes of retaining my sanity and perhaps enabling me to resist the urge to take a shot of whiskey every hour on the hour (note: this hasn't happened yet, but Jack Daniels and I may have a future together). Needless to say, this process has been something I'd like to call HARD. Who knew that babies have such major issues with being asked to put themselves to sleep? Not me.
So, we're trying something called SleepSense and I have to say that the $47 I spent online for a downloadable book was totally worth it. I even get a 15 minute call-in once a month to chat with the author. I'm wondering if that's where $37 of that sticker price is going. Not sure what I'll say when I call her but at the moment I'm thinking I'll thank her and, if all goes well, offer to vote for her in the next presidential election.
Perhaps you're wondering why it's taken me 7 months to figure out that The Babe needed a sleep schedule. Well, there are so many reasons why we hadn't given him one already and honestly, I'm not going to waste your time with detailing what I've been doing wrong all this time. I'd rather not be knocked off that high pedestal I'm sure you've had me on. As it turns out, 7 months of not sleeping well can seriously hamper your ability to think effectively. Case in point: I backed into the ditch at the end of our driveway this past week on my way to the grocery store. Roughly two hours later, a very large tow truck was driving away after having extracted the Jeep (question: does a Jeep without 4 wheel drive really deserve its Jeep card?) from the aforementioned ditch. I blame this event on long-term sleep-deprivation and not my driving capabilities. It's possible my husband would not agree with my placement of blame, but I'm pretty sure lack of sleep is the issue here.
BUT, besides Operation Night-Night, there have been some good times with the Samster. Sam saw the ocean for the first time on our little excursion to Jekyll Island with the grandparents last week. Big Fun. He also tried grits for the first time, which is, according to many southerners, the perfect food. He was a fan. Sam went to his first birthday party (not his party, but a friend's 27th birthday party) and he was a big hit. Only speed bump on that highway of fun was the aftereffects of the Happy Birthday song which included some "hip, hip, hoorays" at the end. After the 30 or so adult voices in the room finished with the last hooray, one little voice was still yelling and it was not "hooray." It was similar to his reaction during the World Cup US/England game. The boy doesn't like yelling, which I find ironic.
If I survive Baby Boot Camp (as a friend refers to the sleep-training process), I'll post a few pictures of Sam on vacation soon. That's IF I survive, which today feels like a big, fat IF.
I'll leave you with a quote from Plato, because I am that well-read:
"Out of all the animals, the BOY is the most unmanageable."
This makes me wonder how many Operation Night-Nights Plato had to impose.
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