bubble day.

We have had a busy week of parks, playdates and desperately trying to regain a normalized sleep pattern. Guess which of these things have been fun and which have been absolutely miserable?

The good news is we're down to only two wake-ups per night. The bad news is that when in his bassinet, Ethan was already sleeping through the night for a while so this regression is hard to celebrate. The other good news is that on these playdates, I'm allowed to show up looking like a zombie and I'm met with sympathetic support from moms who understand the exhausted stupor I'm trying to float through without completely losing my mind and sanity.

Today was a good day, regardless. At 5:30 a.m., my exhausted husband surrendered and carried a still sleepy Ethan into our bed. Ethan and I proceeded to sleep until 8:30 in the morning. I don't think I've slept in that late since I was a teenager. No, really. 8:30 in the morning is my equivalent of sleeping until noon. It was kind of nice, even when I was being whacked in the cheek repeatedly by tiny infant hands to wake me up when he saw fit.

Wednesdays are Ethan's My Gym days and therefore our favorite day of the week. I can't even begin to list all of the things that we love about My Gym, but today was at the top of Ethan's list. Today was bubble day. Yes, bubble day is a special day in the eyes of my son. It's a special day for me, too, as all that fun made Ethan so sleepy that he fell asleep in the car and didn't even wake up when I changed him and placed him down for a nap in his crib. Success!

Sleep (or the lack thereof) aside, I'm realizing that Ethan turns 7 months in just four short days and that (even though I always say this nearly every month) this just might be my favorite age of all. That little boy might not how to sleep, but he sure knows how to melt his mommy into puddles with his big, silly grins. I swear the entire world lights up when he smiles.

recharging my sanity.

Today was a day where you just felt the tiredness all over. It was a day of chaos and rain and teething and downright insanity.

Ethan has decided, at random, that he despises being in the car. He will not tolerate it and isn't afraid to scream his throat raw if he is forced to sit in the car for more than five seconds. This is something that can only be remedied by someone sitting in the backseat with him, something that I obviously cannot do while driving the car. What this is means is that I must stop repeatedly, pulling into Starbucks parking lots and entertaining him until he falls back asleep. What this means is that it takes us quadruple the length of time than anticipated to get anywhere. And what that means is I probably shouldn't have accepted my husband's offer for us to come have lunch with him at his new office this afternoon. Before I knew it, a twenty minute drive had become three hours and it was nearly dinnertime by the time my exhausted and screamed-out child and I stepped foot back into our home.

I laid him down on the couch and began to unroll a swaddle blanket on the loveseat in preparation for his afternoon nap. Within seconds, he had fallen asleep. My nightmarish car passenger had morphed into a slumbering, sweet, angelic baby in just two minutes time. I decided that his swaddle could wait and, instead, held him in my arms for just a few minutes. I felt the stress of the day begin to melt away with each breath he took and with each kiss that I sneaked upon his forehead.

As was the trend today, a few minutes turned into a couple of hours. I woke up first, noting that we had fallen asleep for nearly two hours and then felt his breath on my cheek. His left fist was holding a lock of my hair and his right arm was flung over my chest. It was probably the most refreshing sleep I've had in some time.

I'm aware that this immense hatred of the car is just one of many phases that I will have the opportunity to experience alongside Ethan as he figures out life. I'm fairly confident it's one of those things that one day I will look back on and smile about when he's graduating college or walking down the aisle on his wedding day. For now? I'm willing to sacrifice car rides anywhere for cuddled up quiet time on the couch. My sanity needs to be recharged.

sleep tight, little one.

Wild Horses - The Sundays

We have had a trying week in the sense that, seemingly overnight, my son has developed an aversion to sleeping.

Perhaps I rightfully deserve all of the blame, as I was openly sharing my excitement about Ethan's fantastic sleeping habits. Seven hours a night? Perfectly timed naps? Me having ample time to clean and organize my entire kitchen from floor to ceiling? It seems I've learned the meaning of the word "jinx" and, oh, what a cruel, cruel lesson it was.

Ethan is a smiling, giggling, happy angel of a child -- unless he goes a week without napping and sleeping an hour here, an hour there during the evening. Then he becomes red-eyed, cranky, whiny and eager to pull your hair and take several points off of your emotional stability. He decided that if he wasn't going to sleep, the only way he'd remotely relax was in my arms while I sang and danced to our Counting Crows station on Pandora. I should preface this by saying that I'm certainly not a dancer and, even moreso, am certainly not a singer. I'm sure that my tone-deaf singing voice bounces off of our walls and into our neighbors homes and sends them hiding under their desks, hands cupping their ears and begging for sweet mercy. Nevertheless, Ethan decided he enjoyed my singing and wouldn't settle for anything less than my fine repertoire of '90's rock or folk songs. You should hear my Jewel medley or -- wait, no, you shouldn't. For the sake of your sanity, you shouldn't be subjected to that. I almost pierce my own eardrums.

After hours of singing and dancing (and thus the realization why Mick Jagger is so skinny), I put him down in his swing or his bassinet. He's asleep. His eyes are closed. I slowly back away and there it comes: the quivering bottom lip. The soft, heaving sighs. Slowly they morph into cries and wide open eyes, staring at me with disappointment that the Dance-A-Thon ever stopped.

Today was no different. We were on yet another day of no naps and faulty nighttime sleep schedules. I had to go to the bathroom. I tried to forget about it but I couldn't, not with all of that dancing around the living room. I apologized to a crying Ethan and put him in his swing, reassuring him that I just had to pee and I'd only be a minute. His sad eyes and quivering bottom lip followed me until I ran down the hall to empty my bladder. When I walked out of the bathroom?

Yeah, he was asleep.

...And asleep he stayed, until it was time for his next feeding. I think I stared at him for a good ten minutes just out of sheer disbelief. Jewel played on in the background with my accompanying vocals (I'm fairly certain my neighbors were rejoicing in the streets) and on he slept.

Tonight at bedtime, I wrapped him in his swaddle, kissed him goodnight and placed him down to sleep. After a week of crying and fussing and fighting and prying his heavy eyes open quite literally with his hands? He simply shut his eyes and fell asleep. Tonight I'm lulled to sleep by the sound of his soft sighs and breathing, the peacefulness and tranquility of his (eagerly anticipated) slumber.

this one undoubtedly brought to you by starbucks

I've been hearing horror stories from my friends with children about this regression that happens when their baby turned 6 weeks old. Babies who sleep like champions and spend their days cooing and cuddling suddenly turn into life-size Chuckie dolls who scream and cry and refuse sleep. It was the stuff nightmares were made of but, seeing as how I've never had a baby before, I didn't fully understand it until Ethan decided he wanted to participate. Let's just say I've had no more than two hours of sleep for the past two nights. Ethan decided he wanted to wake up twice every hour nearly on the dot. In addition, he's been super constipated and absolutely miserable. That part just breaks my heart. It's the most incredibly upsetting feeling to not be able to immediately just take your child's pain away. (Let this also serve as a shout-out to Ethan's amazing pediatrician who has patiently and cheerfully tolerated what feels like my 5,000 calls to the emergency after-hours line begging for suggestions to take away his discomfort. She rules.)

All of this beginning, of course, the week my husband is away on his business trip...going out to fancy dinners, sleeping in a swanky hotel, texting me (with good intentions, of course) to tell me I should try to get some rest as if it was a novel suggestion I hadn't thought of.

This morning I tried to do a lot of things. I tried to save a baby bird, help an elderly couple broken down on the side of the road, pick up a prescription at the drugstore, run an errand at Babies 'R Us...and in the end, I ended up with a $200 speeding ticket and found Starbucks closed due to a power outage.

In other words...today wasn't my day.

Like a typical mommy, I cheered on Ethan as he finally produced a stinky diaper this evening after days of grunting, pushing, shoving and screaming in discomfort. It wasn't just your run of the mill stinky diaper, either. This one could definitely constitute as an explosion. I used sixteen baby wipes and, wiping all the way up to his armpits and shoulder blades, finally managed to get him clean. I was so excited that I took a picture of the aftermath and texted it to my husband with a happy, "look what Ethan did!" caption.

This, my friends, is what parenthood is really about.

As the evening starts to unwind, so is Ethan. He decided not only will he go down for a nap that has been a reflection of how sleep deprived he's been, but he's now chock full of smiles and giggles while his grandma sings him songs. Forget the fact I haven't slept in days (and have admittedly felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown), I feel so much better seeing him feel better. It's like an instant relief to see the smiles return to his face and watch him sleep so peacefully after such a rough couple of days. May this be the end of all of his discomfort! Keep your fingers crossed for him (and for me to continue to survive this week sans sleep and husband!).