Who Said Anything About Sleep?

It seems that every week that goes by is just another battle against a ticking clock and a hungry baby. I’m fully aware I signed up for sleepless nights and I certainly am not complaining, just hoping that the universe allows me an uninterrupted eight hours sometime in the next year. Heck, I would settle for six.


There are these stories of babies who begin to sleep through the night right away or after only a few months. My feeling is that these are either myths or the parent’s have a heavy hand with the infant Tylenol. My first son honestly didn’t sleep through the night all but a handful of times until after he turned two years old. Then there’s his little brother who does the vast majority of his eating in the middle of the night. Last night went something like this:

1 hour of sleep.
Bottle.
1 1/2 hours of sleep.
Bottle.
1 hour of sleep. 
Bottle.
Good morning, I’m not going back to sleep.

These kinds of sleeping patterns cause me nothing but extreme delirium. Today, even with espresso and a red bull, my brain is so fuzzy I can’t even make small talk with myself. The level of crazy in that last sentence alone should speak for itself.

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