The heavens have opened up and the angels sang. Hell has frozen over. Charlie is sleeping through the night. I've not wanted to even THINK those words in the same sentence for fear that it would somehow undo the magic that is an 11 week old baby sleeping from 8pm-7am. I'm still a little superstitious about it...every night I think, "Okay, tonight he will be up a LOT." Kinda like if I prepare for and expect the worst then he will surprise everyone and sleep for twelve hours. Sure, this new found sleep schedule still includes a good solid hour or more of me rocking him to sleep and laying him down only when he is dead to the world, but I will freaking take it. For a week straight he has slept all night long, occasionally waking up for a second or two to let me know that he would prefer to be in my bed with me, nuzzled up as close to me as he can humanly get without smothering himself. But I even kind of enjoy that, a little bit. Those who know me know that I am NOT one of those uber-crunchy, let-your-babies-and-kids-do-whatever-the-hell-they-please-at-the-expense-of-everyone-else's-sanity kinda mom. I will gladly accommodate my kids up to a point. And that point usually stops with a baby who weighs 25 lbs kicking me in the face all night long and snoring in my ear. But while Charlie is still so small, I'm enjoying waking up to his sweet face in the mornings and feeling him nuzzling my side in the early morning hours. Soon, though, Sleep Nazi Mom will have to rear her ugly head, and it won't be pretty. For anyone. But it must be done so that I'm not waking up to Charlie one day, hearing him say, "Hey mom, can you drive me to school early this morning? I have an algebra study session."
He's smirking now because I'm still rocking him to sleep. Tune in in a few weeks and I'll bet he won't think he's so cute then.