A little while ago, my husband and I noticed that when we "accidentally" put William to sleep in his ski jacket, he would stay asleep way longer than in his pjs. This realization corresponded with my parents giving us a one-piece Santa Eskimo outfit, really meant to be a snowsuit but more cuddly and sleep-appropriate than the jacket. It was immediately dubbed the "magic sleeper" and William wore it to bed, and slept through the night, ever since.
Happy ending? Well, no. The magic sleeper's effect is wearing off, it seems. Last few nights William has gotten up once or twice. No biggie, just a quick nurse and a change and he goes back down. Then there's last night:
3:15* am: William wakes up crying. Babies have various different types of cries to indicate different moods and desires. This one was across between a gym-teacher's whistle and the scream of a movie heroine in a horror flick. It is usually used to indicate...um..well...teething? I don't know, I'm not a baby whisperer.
3:15- 3:30 am: I nurse him and he's quiet until I put him back in the crib, then the shrieking resumes.
3:30 am: Tag team Adam. Adam changes William's diaper.
3:45 am: more nursing. No effect.
4 am: Adam gives William some baby Advil, you know, for the teething.
4:20 am: Adam gives William some gripe water. You know, in case he's gasy.
4:25 am: I bring William into bed with us. My husband and I immediately decide that was a bad idea. I rock him and sing to him (with little result) and put him back in his crib.
4:30 am-4:40 am: William's shrieks gradually subside to a nice steady waa waa, the kind that might be recorded by Mattel if they were making a doll.
5 am: William is no longer crying. Asleep?
8:15 am: William wakes up for the day, cheerful as ever, with no mention of the previous night's crankiness. I guess he wants to let bygones be bygones.
*All times are approximate.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
As you can see, our second attempt at meeting Santa didn't go much better than the first. This time William didn't wait until he got on Santa's knee to cry, he began as soon as he saw him. I guess the imposter at the Burlington Mall left him traumatized. (The things we do to torture our children). Anyway at least we got a picture. And the Mapleview Mall Santa was much nicer. Although he thought William was a girl. Isn't Santa supposed to have a sixth sense about these sorts of things? I guess he hasn't checked the naughty/nice list for this year to see the new additions.
Monday, December 03, 2007
I'd like to thank everyone who made our trip to Toronto possible today:
- -Everyone on the GO Train to and from Union station, who smiled at William, marvelled at his cuteness, and entertained him when he got squirrelly. Good luck to the girl we met who is seven months pregnant. Most of the time they're angels, really.
- -The Ryerson University bookstore. For offering a student discount so enticing that it's worth sending your wife and child all the way to the big city. And for making it a rule that only I, as a student, can purchase software in the store. I just want to say for the record, that that Adobe Suite is for me, and totally not for my graphic designer husband who needs it for work.
- -All the people who helped me carry the stroller up and down the stairs when Toronto's wheelchair access system failed us.
- -The man who showed me how to use the elevator in the underground. You have to hold the button. Who comes up with this stuff?
- -The trio of friendly Torontonians who guided us to Union Station when we got hopelessly lost in the underground path.
- -The Employees of the Saturn dealership for welcoming us in and letting me have a hot chocolate, even though I made it abundantly clear that I have no interest in purchasing a car.
- -John, who works at Saturn who helped me carry the stroller over the snow banks that blocked the sidewalk outside the Saturn dealership. I know you would have helped me all the way home, if given the opportunity.
- -And finally to William, for being such a trooper, and only crying for about a third of the trip.