Great (sleep) Expectations

We've had (more than) our share of sleep drama this past year.  In fairness, I should mention that my son has some amazing sleep abilities, including putting himself to sleep easily since around 5 months and taking great, reliable naps (well, at home in his crib... at daycare not so much but that is another post for another time).  None of those critical things should be overlooked or under appreciated.

But when it comes to night time waking, well. Where to begin?  I want to preface this all by saying (or perhaps by continuing to feed myself and others this potential delusion) that I think deep down he is a great sleeper.  He (and we - let's face it, we all know sleep is a family issue) has been handed a few rough hands in this game, namely near constant illness and teething.  I mean, honestly, the kid's been doing one or both of those things just about every week for the past, oh... eight months of his life.  And let me remind you, the four months before those eight weren't a dream (no pun intended), lest you all forget the fourth trimester and its all important 5 S's (see Happiest Baby on the Block if none of this is ringing a bell).

I have watched many friends and patients go through similar tough sleep times.  But by and large all of these sleep challenged children and families seemed to smooth out the kinks by around one year old.  Now I'm realizing there may be many more out there that haven't had improvements by a year old, but perhaps they are just too shamed and too darned tired to talk about it.

At any rate, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was eagerly awaiting the one year mark so that we could turn a new page over in the sleep book.  Boy, I sure was ready to start that chapter that went, "Mama kissed little man good night, turned out his lights, curled up in her own bed with her latest People Magazine, read pressing star gossip for a few moments before drifting off into 7-8 hours of uninterrupted sleep."

The week leading up to my son's first birthday was for the poor sleep record books.  Another terrible cold had ravaged his little self (and everyone who came in contact with him that week, including multiple family members from out of town - the viral vector strikes again!) and another bottom tooth was rearing its pointy head.

Despite it all, I believed in the magic of the one year mark.  And he seemed to be through the worst of the illness.  So, as we lay ourselves down to sleep on the eve of the little man's first birthday, I said a little internal prayer to the sleep gods and goddesses.

But I think my prayer might have been lost in translation, because instead of blissful sleep, here is what occurred on that fateful night:

6:30 pm:  little man goes to sleep
11 pm: hubby and I go to sleep (later than usual, secondary to house guests)
1 am:  awakened by the sound of our dog going downstairs to eat his dinner (in short: crazy canine who fears all company and won't eat when strange people are around)
2 am: little man wakes, cries, we nurse and he's out in under 5 min
3 am: awakened by the sound of aforementioned canine vomiting aforementioned meal on our bedroom carpeting
3:03 am:  cleaning aforementioned vomit from carpeting
7 am: praise be everyone is sleeping!  That is, until the in laws set off our house alarm by opening a window that clearly did not need to be opened at 7 am.



I suppose it is yet another example how my expectations of parenting are constantly evolving.  In other news, though, two nights ago little man slept 12 hours straight!  Unfortunately the aforementioned crazy canine spent the night jumping on to our bed and shaking with terror over the fire works.

Ah, well, you win some, you lose some.