Holly and I decided that there would be no better night to start trying to put Max to sleep in his crib, rather than in the co-sleeper next to our bed. We plugged the vaporizer in by the crib in the nursery, fed him to sleep and then, for the first time in nearly six months, walked a shot step and a half sideways to plop him down in the crib. This was at about 10:30, about par for the course.
He woke up crying later in the evening and Holly and I could just tell that it wasn't even near the 5:00 a.m. that we had hoped for. I looked over at the alarm clock and let Holly know that it was just past midnight. She replied "why, that's unfortunate. I suppose I shall egress from this bed in order to provide sustenance for my offspring". Or something to that effect involving way less words. Like only one.
Holly had long since mastered the art of the bed feed since our trip to BC. The only problems with it are a) I have to shove off to another bed and b) Max's sleep is of much better quality than Holly's afterward. So off I went to the spare room and Holly and Max went back to sleep. For a couple of hours anyway.
The rest of the night was a blur for me - crazy dreams, Max crying, a blizzard hitting. All I know is that I woke up at 8:00 or so not feeling very rested, but figuring that Holly was much worse off. Yet she and Max were passed out. About 15 minutes later, they got up and I found out that they had been up at 3 and 6 (yikes) and Holly just kind of kept him in bed the whole time. This meant that a diaper change was priority numero uno. Well, numero dos, after spending some time in bed with my suddenly smiley son. Wait, was that something wet in the carpet? Holly says yes, the cats were throwing up earlier that morning. Oh, OK..
Eventually, I decided to get the show on the road and get in to work. But lo, what brownish mound lies on yonder carpet? So somecat was apparently not feeling well and emptied her tummy all over the nursery carpet. While Holly tended to the cleanup, I decided to go shovel the 15 cm of snow we got overnight...except that it turned out to be 30. And the plow had been by. Several times. The good thing about living on Kirkwood is that it's always plowed. The bad thing about living on Kirkwood is that it's always plowed.
Eventually, Holly pitched in with the shoveling briefly before heading back in to feed Max. I polished off the driveway (ouch) and went up to go check on things. Holly was happily (for real, this time) nursing in Max's room, oblivious to the fresh swamp of cat vomit behind the nursing chair. By now, it was clear that Lily was at fault, as she was roasting by the heater behind the chair when I stepped out to shovel. When I went down to the basement, I noticed that she hadn't quite been able to get to the litter box either. Grrr. Given that since Wednesday morning, she has been fine, I am chalking this up to the dozen or so licks she had of my empty dinner plate Tuesday night. Every time that cat thinks she's human, there's trouble.
Eventually, I left for work, Max's diaper did got changed, Holly managed to get out of the house for a movie with a friend and Barack lost a state. Wednesday night, Max slept poorly again, but in his normal bed...giving us some hope that the crib thing might still work out. Holly thinks that he's going through his 6-month growth spurt, which is entirely likely. I guess tonight will serve as a sort of acid test. Stay tuned!
Blogger's note from Holly - Max is still not sleeping well. He's continuing the pattern of waking up for the first time after just a few hours and last night (Saturday) at the cottage, he treated me to an 11:30 p.m., 1:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m., 6:15 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. night after going to bed around 8:45 p.m. Yikes. Hopefully our previously excellent sleeper returns to form pronto before I turn into a zombie.
Although post-bath moments such as this one from Wednesday night occasionally happen:
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