Sleep? What is That?

From about week 3 on, Mr. Burgher or I have not had to complain about the lack of sleep that most new parents do. Lil Man, true to family form, loves his sleep. But coming to this nine month mark, he’s been a beast at night. I hear from many reliable sources that this means he’s on the cusp of something big (walking?) developmentally.

But can a Mama and Daddy get some rest? Waking up at 3 or 4 AM with no apparent reason has become Lil Man’s habit. We sometimes turn on ESPN and let him veg until he passes out. Or one of us will hold him or walk with him or give him a bottle (because even 40 minutes of nursing isn’t enough).

It must be karma. When I was a baby, my mom said I refused to sleep unless she was somehow touching me (so she spent many nights on the floor of my room, holding my hand through the crib bars). How do I know? This weekend, while Mr. Burgher and I were at all things PodCamp (and making new friends), Lil Man slept two whole nights with his Pappy and Grammie from 9 PM to 6 AM without stirring. Just. Like. That.

We get him back Sunday afternoon, and he is wide awake, but luckily passes out with us at 8:30. Not long after, he’s back up and we both barely sleep. What gives? I was wondering if it was being in our room, but no, when at my parents’, he is in their room, too.

Even this evening (when I was graciously given 45 minutes during his nap to get ready for my scrapping weekend), as soon as Mr. Burgher and Lil Miss A pulled away from the curb, I heard giggling and found this:

Good thing he’s cute, right?




Before I left work this evening, I had no clue what I was going to blog about. I grabbed up my stuff and went to the restroom. When I looked in the mirror, I realized I have been a crazy, patterned mess since getting back from leave. What a crazed mix of patterns I carry! (See? Houndstooth coat, burberry umbrella, and paisley Vera. Goodness.)

Part of me thinks I should fix the situation and coordinate better, but the other part of me says who cares. I love my unique pieces and probably always will. Until I am dropping A off at kindergarten and she claims I embarass her. Oh well, kiddo, won’t be the last time.