No Rest for the Wicked

Yeah...so after a chat with my mom, I decided to begin sleep training with Jackson.

*insert scary horror movie music here*

Man, it's TIME. He is five and a half months old. He is a fat lil' chunk of baby love. He is eating people food. Is it necessary to wake up every two hours at night for milk? Or is it just the want of the boob? I think the latter. Which is cool. But.

Must. Sleep.

Work+Mommyhood+Housework=SheerAndUtterExhaustion.

So!

Last week, sleep training began. Joe and I agreed that a night schedule of nourishment every four hours was the plan. We have had two really bad nights. Nights of screaming. Constant reassurance to the Hunger Beast that all is well. He is safe. We love him.

He has slept straight through the night three times now. Ten, eleven hours at a time. Oh, how wonderful the sleep must have been, you say. How rested you must be. How refreshed!

I have woken up on those nights every two hours. Like I've done for the past...oh...six months? Maybe seven? You gotta include the incessant peeing in the last trimester of pregnancy. IT COUNTS.

Mother Nature has a fucked up sense of humor.