Tomorrow is race day, with lots of (hopefully) good running talk to be had. In the interim, please interrupt our regularly scheduled blogging topics to discuss what I want. After all, it is my blog.
It's one of those days. A day where the Diet Coke and coffee can't flow fast enough. It's the kind where my hand keeps itching for my emergency stash of Jelly Bellys. And my mind, it keeps wondering if it's OK to nap during my lunch break.
And it's all Miles' fault. Or mine. Or both. Whatever. I'll let you decide.
I've briefly referenced to it here on the blog but we are a co-sleeping family. It wasn't so much an active decision, made after careful research and thought. It just sort of happened. There would be a night when Miles woke up at 4 a.m. and didn't want to go back to sleep. Instead of fighting him, we brought him into bed. Once turned into twice. Twice turned into a couple times a week. And now, at some point between the hours of 2 and 4:30 a.m. each night, Miles comes into our bed.
I don't particularly mind Miles sleeping in our bed. He doesn't thrash around, instead choosing to cozy up next to me. If he stirs, I reach for the paci and pop it back in. I also don't worry much about rolling over on him and, as he sleeps between Mark and me, I don't fear that he'll fall off the bed.
However, I've been having the feeling lately that he shouldn't be sleeping in our bed and that we should do something about it. I'm not sure where it came from. It was just like one day I decided that things should change.
And I decided that it should be last night. To say it didn't work out so well would be an understatement.
7 p.m.: Miles goes down for the night in his crib. I go downstairs, make a nasty "smoothie" with a packet (Weight Watchers caramel latte).
8 p.m.: I watch "Big Bang Theory" and amp myself up for the night ahead.
9 p.m.: Go to bed.
10:30 p.m.: Miles wakes up screaming. Give him a bottle and get him to go back to sleep in his crib by 11:10.
1 a.m.: Miles wakes up. I turn on Hushaby Vince Gill and rock him to sleep. Back in bed by 1:10.
2:30 a.m.: Miles is up again. Mark gives him a bottle (4 ounces) but screams. He tries 2 more ounces but Miles still screams.
2:55 a.m.: Exhaustion-induced mini fight with Mark.
3 a.m.: I take over. Give Miles the 2 ounces and get him to sleep. Lie him in his crib and go to bed.
3:15 a.m.: Miles is up. I try popping in the paci, rocking, swaying. Get him back to sleep and go to bed. Repeat till 4.
4 a.m. Miles is finally asleep.
4:30 a.m.: Or not. We say fig it and bring him in.
6:15 a.m.: Miles and I wake up when Denali barks in our face. I swear I might kill him.
As I sit here, wondering what the chances are that I'll faceplant into my Smart Ones Ravioli, I wonder if it was all worth it. Miles does start off in the crib and sleeps most of the night there. In the event that he ever sleeps through the night (I'm doubtful), we should all just grow out of it. Why should we sacrifice sleep and happiness now when it will all just work itself out?