War of the Warners

I told Jessie the other day that I have to keep believing that someday in the near future I will be able to sleep through the night. Otherwise life is depressing. After Madeline's performances the past week, I don't know whether to be optimistic that the day is at hand, or too cynical to think it will ever be reality. Madeline finally developed a sleeping schedule, which was supposed to be a good thing, or so they tell me. Her sleeping schedule involves going to bed between eight and nine, awakening an hour later and crying for her binki, and then waking up two to three hours later and screaming bloody murder for an hour plus. Then she'll wake up between three and five for a bottle, and then between six-thirty and seven for good. If you'll closely examine the gaps between these events, you'll notice they don't leave much time for sleeping. Especially when you have to wrestle back the blankets from your husband every time you return to bed. (Just kidding. He's only done that once or twice. And he's been forgiven after his involvement in the midnight war on Madeline, in which he has risked life and limb to help me keep my sanity.)

After about a week of this, we were getting kind of desperate for a way to beat Madeline at her own game, especially since the weekend and extra napping time for mom and dad were quickly coming to an end. So last night, when she woke up a little early (just after 11) with her infamous deafening scream attack, Jessie put her in her crib, took me upstairs, and didn't let me leave the couch until she was asleep. Madeline tried all her best moves, like the death scream for ten minutes straight, and the sneaky minute of silence followed by a full frontal assault, but Jessie was unflappable. (I was a mess. Not to say Jessie wasn't touched by this gut-wrenching display; he was just more firm in his belief that the 1 AM tantrums had to stop.) And miracle of miracles, after about 25 minutes of a display of Madeline's incredible stamina, there was silence in our household. And we got to go to sleep before midnight. The cool part was that all the screaming seemed to have worn Madeline out, because she slept until 7:30 this morning. UNHEARD OF. I thought she had died from a combination of abandonement and hyperventilation from all the crying. I had to check that she was still breathing. It's the longest stretch of sleep I've gotten in months, and it was beautiful.

We'll have to see if the tide has indeed turned, and Jessie and I are winning the battle. (As we speak, Madeline is once again fast asleep for her afternoon nap, after another tantrum, which can only be described in one word: shorter.) Listening to my daughter scream like that has been a draining and guilt-ridden experience, but I keep telling myself that it will be worth it in the long run. And fortunately, Madeline doesn't hold grudges, and was just as excited to see us this morning as every other morning. And for once, I was rested enough to be fully excited to see her too.