One day we woke up and our sweet little baby had changed.
She used to sleep all day. She used to sleep all night. She used to be quiet and perpetually happy. Then she watched Madeline for a few months and learned how we communicate in this house. Now, she screams. She squeals. She breaks my eardrums. And she busts this out in relief society and sacrament meeting, and most of all whenever I leave her in a different room or set her down when she feels like she should be the center of attention. And she quit sleeping. She started waking up every night between 2-4 am and staying awake for at least an hour. Not crying, mind you. Just yelli and squealing and laughing loud enough to keep up e whole house. Then waking up again at 5 or 6 for good.
I know you mothers with colicky, whiny, high maintenance babies who weren't sleeping through the night at a month are laughing at me right now. I am probably getting my just punishment. I know it could be much worse, because once upon a time I suffered through the the sleep deprivation that was the first six months of Madeline's life. But it's been so long since I enjoyed that happy little jaunt, and Kimberly has been such a fantastic sleeper, that I've forgotten how to function on that little sleep. And all the tricks for putting a fussy baby to sleep. And how to nap with a toddler and a baby. (Oh snap. I never had that skill. But a girl can dream.)
So you'll excuse me if I'm a bit of a terrible blogger right now. Or an uninteresting conversationalist/unsocial hermit. Or a lousy cook and housekeeper. This whole getting up at 6 thing with six hours of interrupted sleep does nothing to help my quest to be a morning person. Or my exercise regimen. Or my nuclear fission research. Basically I'm just trying to stay awake. Or get more sleep. So I'll just be hanging around in my pajamas shooting longing glances at my bed and dirty looks at the sun.
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