Well, Jack's having none of that. Apparently he just learned that most babies don't start sleeping through the night at three weeks as he did, and he wants to make up for lost time. To that end, he began working on some research for his alternative to Ms. Pantley's book, which he is going to call the "No-Sleep Cry Solution."
His goal? No sleep. Cry.
Last night, for example, Jack napped soundly in the car on the way home from Gander Mountain. We unlatched Mr. Sleeping Precious from his carseat, got him ready for bed, and put him down for the night. He slept for a blissful, beautiful hour until we were ready for bed. That's when his bat-sense tingled: mom and dad are going to sleep? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
I tried my usual methods of comforting him: tucked the blanket around his legs, squeezed the musical lullaby Seahorse, gave him his pacifier, but he wasn't having any of it.
Dan advised me that it was a "hungry cry." Hungry cry cannot be fixed by song, Seahorse, or cuddles. It requires a full bottle, even if it is the middle of the night. Even if I'm damn tired. So Hungry Jack had his bottle, and I didn't sleep. I put him back to bed, wide awake but at least content enough to play quietly instead of wail. I slept the half-sleep of a mom with one ear in her son's crib.
For about an hour. Like a perverse alarm clock, he wound up again at two, and then three, and then five. By five he couldn't be calmed by any conventional means of soothing except being held. Which required me to be awake. That is, after all, the ultimate goal of the No-Sleep Cry Solution: baby gets plenty of sleep but Mom? Mom gets to hold baby, wide awake and bleary eyed, while baby sleeps.
|Ahh, ultimate goal achieved: I sleep while Mom toils.|