Zombie

Owen uncharacteristically woke up at 2:30 this morning. Good times. I went to check on him. 40 minutes later I went back to bed. A moderate success. Until he woke up 10 minutes later. I went to get him again, but it was doing very little good, so Joanne came in and did something only a Mom can do. I went back to bed.

I say uncharacteristic, since Owen had been on a fairly consistent schedule of sleeping until 6 or 6:30. But last week, he did 3 or 4 days in a row (Joanne says 3; I thought it was more than that) of waking up at 4 in the morning. That's supposedly a sign that he's ready for more solids. We'll see. During that period last week, I got him once and got him back to sleep. Upon my return to bed, Joanne mumbles to me "nice job."

Really? What's the point of both of us being up, dear? That may be more unsatisfying than having to get up in the first place--that you didn't do a good enough job for Mom to go back to sleep. Or is it a lack of faith that I'll do the job (such as this morning, when you were asleep the first time), so no use in going to sleep? Throw me a bone here! C'mon!