I’ve got nothing, friends. There’s not a thing to complain about. My sarcasm has run dry. The baby is sleeping like a champ, and while my body isn’t quite in sync with sleeping through the night, I am getting more sleep than I’ve had in eight months. It’s undeniable—I am ridiculously happy. My only regret is that my peaceful, easy feeling may not make for great blog fodder.
I worked the sleep training like nobody’s business this week. Once I decided to go for it, a switch inside of me flipped. Suddenly, I could handle the crying. I felt confident that painful nights would make way for pleasant ones, and I was right. By the end of the week, Linus was putting himself to sleep in less than five minutes.
It’s not that the baby was ready for this. Hell, I wasn’t ready for this, either. I guess if I learned one thing this week it’s this: Sometimes, you have to do something that makes you feel like shit to get to the good stuff. Sometimes, you need to go for it, even when you don’t think you’re ready.
As I packed up the bassinet this weekend, I felt like my heart might burst. Our little guy has left my side of the bed to share a room with his big sister, and while I know it’s a positive step, I miss him. But he’s been sleeping through the night, and this morning, he woke up giggling in his crib. You can’t beat that.
Meanwhile, our dear girl Linnea is my hero. She has welcomed her new roommate with open arms and slept through hours of crying this week. Plus, she continues to amuse me on an hourly basis. During our family Super Bowl party tonight, I asked if she wanted to dance with me during Madonna’s halftime performance. She stood up on the sofa wielding a bowl of potato chips and shouted, “No! I don’t want to dance. Let’s throw chips at someone instead!”
Okay, so Josh and I have plenty of parenting challenges ahead of us.