Category: Parenthood

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Friday Funk

2 Friday Funks in a row?? Crazy. I must be on a roll over here. I’ll call this one the “No More Moo” edition, because I’ve been given the green light by Lana’s pediatrician to start weaning her from breast milk. Time to start shutting down the milk factory.

The reason for doing this is kind of a need mixed with a want. She NEEDS to start sleeping through the night again, and her doctor said weaning will absolutely help with that. I took her in the other night for her first sick check because she’s had this congestion and cough for months now, and I was afraid she might have an ear infection since she tugs on her left one all the time. Ears look perfect, the doctor said, but she said she still sounds a little croupy. Something in her upper respiratory system is definitely still bugging her, so she’s currently on a 5-day antibiotic just to try and kick whatever keeps running around in there.

But anyway, I was telling her how terrible Lana’s sleeping at night has gotten, and she was pretty surprised to hear that she almost always wakes up 2-3 times per night now. A complete sleep through is essentially nonexistent these days, which is really shitty for a 7 month old.

So after we discussed the decline in night sleeping and I asked about maybe stopping breastfeeding soon, her doctor said yes, let’s definitely start to wean her. That’s where the want part comes in.

I’m ready to be done nursing this time around. I don’t know if it’s the novelty wearing off earlier the second time around or maybe the fact that me having been home basically all of Lana’s life so far with her she’s just spent more time actually nursing than Della did since she was in daycare so much or what, but I’m pretty much over it. That “magical bond” between mother and nursing babe just isn’t that magical anymore.

As when Della was stopping breastfeeding, I would love to not have to worry about it over the summer. Taking my stupid hand pump to all-day events gets so old, and enduring the pain of engorgement when I’d rather just not have to think about it is getting annoying right now. Plus we need to get Lana to know that boobs are no longer an option in the middle of the night. That’s the worst part – as long as she continues to wake up inconsolable save for nursing, we’ll keep taking steps backward instead of forward in this process.

So enter Enfamil, the formula I’ve always dreaded due to its price tag. The act of giving my baby formula doesn’t bother me in the least; it’s paying for the crap when I know I can provide plenty of breast milk for free. But like I said, I’m willing to sacrifice the dollars for a few months this time to get my body freedom back. Selfish? Probably. But Mama needs her sanity too, thank you very much, and Lana will thrive just fine on formula for only a couple months. For when she turns 11 months, we’ll put her on whole milk anyway.

Day 1 of the weaning saga was yesterday, and it was an utter failure. The doctor said to begin by replacing the least important breast milk meals with formula until there is no more nursing, so we’re starting with the one she usually has between her now solid lunches and dinners. Yesterday I whipped up a 6 oz. bottle containing 4 oz. of breast milk and 2 oz. of formula, thinking that would be more than enough breast milk to mask whatever the foreign taste of formula is in there. Nope. She drank a couple good gulps, then refused the rest of it. Well shit. I even made a separate 1 oz. bottle of strictly formula, thinking maybe the breast milk was bad. Still refused. Double shit.

I was afraid of that. Della did the same thing when she stopped nursing, refusing formula. She was about a month and a half older than Lana is now, though, so I just pumped another month or 2 until she started whole milk. I’m not pumping for 4 more months this time, though, so we have to get this to work with Lana. Fortunately round 2 this afternoon went better. I made another 6 oz. bottle for her, but this time I used only 1 oz. of formula and 5 oz. of breast milk, and she drank the whole thing without hesitation. Much better.

My hope is that I can just keep upping the formula ratio in this afternoon bottle and her mid-morning one over the next week or so until those 2 are strictly formula. Then we’ll work on switching the morning wake-up feeding to formula, then lastly the bedtime feeding. The doctor said that’s the order of importance for the feedings to be breast milk. I may start transitioning the bedtime feeding to a mixed bottle sooner, though, so I can make it bigger. When she nurses I obviously have no idea how many ounces she’s taking, but her doctor said to give her a bigger bedtime bottle (at least 6 oz.) to help her stay satisfied through the night better. Makes sense to me. Let’s get this pony rolling.

I would love more than anything to have her nearly fully weaned in the next 3 weeks before we go to Colorado, but I won’t push it. I’ll try, but if I have to take the damn pump, I’ll take it. So wish us luck on this journey! Any and all easy weaning juju you can send our way will be much appreciated.

Speaking of Colorado, my sister had her baby today!!!! I could just poop I’m so excited for them. His name is Roan, and from what I’ve seen so far he is absolutely perfect. I simply cannot wait to hold this newest little Goonie nugget, and Della already knows she has a new baby cousin. She can even say Roan pretty well. I’m so happy we’ll get to meet him when he’s still so little. I just hope my sister and brother-in-law truly know what they’re signing up for when they invite us all to stay with them with a newborn in the house. Heh.

What else? Oh yeah – my race last weekend. Dudes, I kicked its ass!! I was hoping for under 27:00, secretly wishing for under 26:00, and I blew that thing out of the water. 25:11 was my time. BOOM to the OOM! 8:06 pace. I was floored. No way was I expecting a time like that, which is one of my fastest 5k times ever. Let alone after having 2 kids and just getting back to running a few weeks ago. It felt like a terrible run, too, because I started off way too fast trying to keep pace with a group of grade schoolers. Note – never EVER try to keep up with 7 year olds in a race. They’ll destroy you every time. So when I saw sub-25:00 on the score clock as I approached the finish line I was ecstatic.

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Then it was off to Miller Park that afternoon with great friends for the Kenny Chesney concert. Yahoo!! That was an absolute blast. We skipped the first couple opening acts and went in for Eric Church and Kenny, and we had so much fun. It turned out to be a gorgeous day, and we had a wonderful afternoon and night.

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I think that about wraps everything up for this week. Just another batch of random I wanted to write down before I forgot it all. We’re off to Madison on Sunday for my cousin’s wedding, which will be awesome. So you all have a great long weekend, thank you to those whom we remember in the name of this holiday, and I’ll talk to you later.

 

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Back in an instant

Tonight I was the chosen one to read Della’s bedtime stories, so we had the obligatory rocking session afterward before she got into bed. She had a really full day today, with 2 trips to the park, more outside play at home, and barely an hour nap when she’s usually out for a solid 2 or more. Plus there was a little “in trouble” episode between lunch and her nap, so that added some stress in there.

Long way to say I knew she was very sleepy. Unfortunately she didn’t get to bed as early as I had wanted her to, but maybe she’ll sleep in a little in the morning to make up for it.

As she was settling into her positions while rocking, it happened. She rolled onto her back in my left arm with her right hand on her cheek, and she put her left hand up on my left shoulder. Exactly like she did years ago when I wrote this post.

I was immediately transported back in time to that night. It was even warm then just as it was tonight, because I was wearing a tank top in both episodes. Thinking back it seemed like eons ago, because she still took a bedtime bottle, and little Lana was not even a thought. I watched her face tonight as my mind undertook its time travel, and I was just struck by how utterly amazing children are.

When they’re born it’s impossible to envision who they’re going to be, how they’re going to grow, what path their lives will take, and you become 100% enveloped in their survival. Then one day you get caught at just the right moment and that very first day of their life seems so incredibly far away. And you wonder how in the world did we get here so fast?

That’s why I was so grateful for that one little moment tonight. It was like I was sitting there with both Dellas at exactly the same time – the baby one who inspired me to write that post and the big girl one who is with us now. So beautifully the same and different.

She’s getting so big, it’s unbelievable. At the park today I was astonished at how much she’s grown just since the last time we were there last fall. I glanced over at her at one point and she had scampered all the way up the curved jungle gym bars that used to be way too dangerous for her to tackle alone. I still worry that her foot will slip through and that precious little face will be smashed, but I just stood back and let her go with some words of encouragement. Once she knew she could, she just kept climbing and climbing and climbing.

Della Jolee. She astounds me constantly with her mind – she’s so smart, and her memory is like a steel trap. Granted she only has 2.5 years of crap in there compared to my almost 34, but she remembers things to which I would never even give half a thought. We’ll be reading a book and all of a sudden she has to turn back a few pages or turn back to the cover or title page. And just as I’m about to ask what she’s doing, she’ll say, “see, match”, and she’s totally right. The page we were reading will have the same picture that’s shown on the page to which she turned. I would never in a million years put little things like that together. She pays so much attention.

Now that Lana’s here, I find myself constantly trying to remember what Della was like at each of these baby stages. What she looked like, what she did, how she acted, and for some reason it’s so hard to remember. It wasn’t even that long ago, but I’m just so used to the girl she is today that picturing her in her own baby stages is embarrassingly difficult.

She’s become a fan of saying “I get so big” lately, and she’s so very right. My big girl. 33 months old tomorrow. But still my baby girl in an instant. I don’t think that will ever change.

D

 

 

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100 years

That’s how long I want to live. Longer, actually. Some people think getting that old would be terrible – your body may be failing you, you’ll probably have experienced much loss by then, life may be completely different than you used to know…

But if I’m lucky enough to live that long that will hopefully mean I’ll get to spend 70+ years with my children. God forbid one of them goes before me. I don’t think I could handle that.

One of my friends said the other day that she has always wanted to live to be 100, and it stuck with me. I do too.

Watching Della grow and learn each day is amazing. I was coloring with her in the basement tonight, 2 things which I don’t really enjoy, let alone put together. But I actually had a great time. Crouching down there on the floor with her coloring in her Strawberry Shortcake book and seeing how much fun she was having made me forget that it was not high on my list of things to do.

And Lana. Well I could just stare at my babies all day long if allowed. This one especially. Those giant blue eyes are enchanting.

My sister posted this on her Facebook page today, and I love every single word. It is so true. One hundred million percent true.

*****

“We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming
children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.”

~Author unknown

D Li love these little goonies more than i ever imagined i could.

 

 

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Week 1 vs. Week 20

I did it. I made it through my first trial as a solo parent and we all survived swimmingly. No broken bones, no lost children, no burned down house. Success!

Ryan was out of town from Monday night through today, so I had the girls at home by myself. Fortunately we drove down to my mom’s house yesterday afternoon so I didn’t have to spend that entire time fully alone, but still a good chunk of it. And just like last week, I’m pretty damn proud of myself.

I was a little leery of having to do both bedtimes with no help all week since that is my absolute least favorite time of day, but it ended up being a piece of cake. Della has been having some bedtime issues and slept in my bed 2 of the nights, but after night 1 of being kicked in the back for 8 hours I learned to barricade her on Ryan’s side with blankets so I could get a little better sleep the second night. I figured that was just easier than trying to get her to stay in her own bed over and over and over and over and over until I died of exhaustion and frustration. Pick your battles, people.

I think Lana has been going through some 4 month sleep regression, too, so I was afraid that did not bode well for a week alone either. I had never heard of this until I read this post awhile ago, but it all sounds like what we’ve been dealing with with Lana – waking up crying shortly after going to bed when I know she’s not hungry or wet, no longer sleeping anywhere close to through the night, having maximum night sleep stretches of 3-4 hours tops, and starting to wake up 2 or more times a night again with the only solution being nursing her back to sleep. Ridiculous. I was starting to go zombie again until I figured out what was going on. We were completely spoiled with Della since she slept through the night by 3 months of age and really had no consistent troubles that I can remember after that, but like I’ve said before, #2 here is just totally different.

That post I link to above by Brandy is an excellent reference for this, though. She has a number of links in there to other explanations of it, so I’m not going to bother repeating them here. But if you have a 4ish month old babe and are starting to go crazy with him/her suddenly breaking their new found sleeping abilities, read it. Fortunately I remembered it from when I read it the first time so I wasn’t totally shocked when Lana started doing this, but that still didn’t make the 12:00, 2:00, and 5:00 wake ups any easier. When she was a newborn, sure, those were expected. But at almost 5 months? No way, jack.

And unfortunately Monday night of this week was quite possibly the worst night she’s ever had in her almost 5 months on the outside. I shit you not. She woke up at 10:30 and I arm bounced her back to sleep; she woke again at 11:30 and refused to go back to sleep so I finally fed her again to quiet the screaming and put her back in her crib between 12:30-1; she started crying again but I was fed up with the antics and just let her test her lungs that time because I knew she just needed sleep, and fortunately she finally quieted herself after a few minutes; but then she woke again at 5:05 to eat before going back to sleep for a couple hours until her wake up for the day. I didn’t have to work on Tuesday so was hoping to sleep in a little after that night at the freak show, but Della got up at 7:30. Boo. No rest for the weary.

I worked Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday this week, so we’ll throw that into the mix of being on my own too. Actually, I guess that gave me a little break from them for those shifts, so that worked out ok. Plus getting the 3 of us ready in the mornings and to work on time is becoming much easier, so that part really wasn’t so bad. It was just knowing there was going to be no one at home later in the day to play with them that had me a little worried, but those worries turned out to be completely unfounded. I recorded the movie “Tangled” a few months ago, so Della and I watched that at night before bed and she loved it.

There were a couple wrenches in the week, however, because why wouldn’t there be? Murphy’s Law dictates that nothing in our household may run smoothly, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Our recycling bin got frozen to the ground in a glacier of ice during the thaw and refreeze last week, which I never even gave thought to until I tried to wheel it out to the curb Tuesday night and realized it was not going anywhere. I tried pouring hot water around it and whacking at the ice with a shovel, and I even tried melting the ice around the bottom with a blow torch, but that sucker wasn’t budging. Well yes, we have a blow torch, doesn’t everyone? I was just proud of myself for figuring out how to use it without burning my hands or having it blow up in my face. And no, I didn’t melt any of the recycling bin plastic, either.

Fortunately we have amazing neighbors who filled up bins of their own with our recycling so I could at least empty some of it and who came over with ice melter and spent over an hour melting and shoveling the thing out, as well as wheeling it out to the curb for me as I put the girls down for naps. We seriously live on the best block ever. So, per the recycling truck driver’s instructions, I just called the village once it was out and the truck came back the next day and picked it up right before we left for my mom’s house. Excellent.

We are now at the mecca that is “Bapa’s house!”, as Della would say, so thankfully my single parent status has come to an end. But it’s funny – all week I have been comparing how I fared now to how I fared the very first week I was home alone with these 2 after Ryan went back to work and my mom left after the week she spent with us after Lana’s birth, and it’s like night and day.

Week 1 I was still so new to this 2 kid game that I honestly had no idea how we were going to survive. Multiple naps, multiple meals for each, maybe a bathroom break for me, trying to keep the house in some semblance of order, and feeling that total fog of new parenthood again. It was so hard. I kept everything on an even keel, but that first week alone scared the living shit out of me.

Week 20 was the week of “I got this”. Sure there were some things that had me slightly worried, as I said above, but in general I went into it thinking why bother fretting, I have to do this. I almost saw it as a challenge that I wanted to blow out of the water instead of a chore. And I did. There were no meltdowns, I didn’t lose my temper with anyone, I got the house cleaned and laundry done, and we all had fun together, just Mama and her girls. Quite a different mindset from the beginning.

But am I happy to have helping hands again now? Oh hell yes.

L 1wk

week 1

L 20wks

week 20

 

 

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I’m a pretty damn good mom after all

That’s basically all I wanted to say, but it feels good to actually “say” it out loud. It feels like it’s taken a long time to get here. (even though i haven’t really been a mom all that long, but whatever)

Sure I have bad days, but I know I’m not alone in that. And lately the good days have begun to far, far outnumber the bad ones. I’m getting into the swing of my new job and loading the girls up to go with me there, and that new routine is finally starting to feel more natural.

Oh yeah, I got a job. I’m planning a bigger “update” post wherein I explain all that, but in a nutshell I started working part-time at the front desk at the gym to which I’ve belonged for years. So far it’s going great. But like I said, more on that later.

This post is about me feeling good in my motherhood again. Being home with 2 is definitely harder than not being home with 1, since I worked full-time for the first 2 years of Della’s life. And as I’ve admitted before, it was a lot harder than I expected and allowed myself to believe at first. But honestly I do feel like I’m better getting the hang of it all.

Della and Lana are my little buddies now instead of simply my charges. Della gets excited to go to “Mama’s new work”, especially when we pack up her lunchbox. One of the girls in the kids care room where D & L go while I work told me this morning that Della was having a blast showing off her “new lunchbox” to everyone. I love how she refers to it as that, since we’ve had it in the cupboard for years. New to her though, I guess.

And Lana is definitely mellowing and becoming more fun to be around. Her crying jags are much fewer and far between, and dare I say on their way out? Now when she cries I know she’s obviously hungry or sleepy, depending on the time of day (or night still, unfortunately). Her smiles and huge blue eyes are the most beautiful things ever, and the chatter she squawks out is hysterical.

Seeing little shining moments in the girls’ days are also helping confirm my new found Mama conviction. When I dropped the two of them off in the kids care room at work today, Della walked over to a little boy who was standing near the cabinets by the sink. He must have been about her age, as he was a little shorter than her. She just wanted to see what he was doing, but when she walked up, he put his hand up on her chest in a “go away” motion. Instantly, flashbacks of those little bitches at the family party came back to me and I was heart-broken again. (what, i can call them that, they’re family) She didn’t see me watching this, however, and she went and sat down at one of the little tables in the room by herself.

I told this tale to that same girl who works in the kids care room later in the morning when she was out at the front desk, and she said oh poor Della! Yeah, that’s what I thought too! But she said don’t worry, they started coloring right after that and she was totally fine. Incident long forgotten. Which I assumed, but I was just happy to know that Della didn’t push the kid back or anything like that. She just walked away and did her own thing. I’d like to think I had a hand in forming her sweet, mild nature, but maybe it’s just innate. I’ll keep telling myself I at least helped, though.

So that’s all. I just felt really good about myself and the girls today, and wanted to write that out. Thank you for listening, as always.

Li really, really love this little face.

Dthe constant wonder in her eyes is such a marvelous thing.

 

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That’s much better

Remember the family Christmas party last month where poor Della was ostracized by those annoying little 6 year old girls? Here, I’ll give you a sec to refresh your memory…

Well we went to one of our nephew’s birthday party this past weekend, and things were SO much better. All the cousins who I had hoped were going to be at the Christmas party were at this birthday party, and none of the part of the family from which those other girls came was present. It made for a fantastic time for D.

These cousins seriously love her, and she had an absolute blast palling around with the youngest girl, who’s 4. They played with toys, ate lunch together, ran around in the snow together, and were just all around best buds the whole afternoon. My heart was very happy.

Fortunately this is the immediate part of our family and those Christmas party brats are more distant relatives, so we don’t see them often at all. So hopefully Della will enjoy many more instances like this weekend’s fun and merriment than times like the Christmas party. If you can’t tell, that still riles me when I think about it. Sigh.

But just look at this. How marvelous can you possibly get? I do wish we all lived closer together so this love could be shared so much more often.

D&G

 

 

 

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A small miracle occurred last night

I have a feeling it is very early in the process to start talking about this, but yesterday was day 1 of weaning Lana from the pacifier. Cold turkey. Go big or go home, kids.

I didn’t think we’d have to do this until much later, but she had gotten so dependent on it to fall asleep recently that I’d finally had enough. Multiple nights in a row of being up for almost 2 hours with her in the dead of morning, getting in and out of bed, replacing that stupid plug in her mouth to calm her cries, whipping the sheets off my legs harder and harder each time in frustration, were the straws that broke this camel’s back.

I didn’t mind the thing for awhile, since it really did settle her instantly in her fits of wailing. Like magic. I soon realized why so many people use them. We never did with Della, but this kid’s just different. And she only needed it when trying to fall asleep, never if it fell out once she was sleeping or randomly during the day.

Lately, however, it was taking longer and longer for her to get to sleep with the damn thing, since every time it would fall out she’d immediately get frantic searching for it. She would take super long naps with it in her mouth, but I was willing to sacrifice that “free time” for me in order to quash her growing addiction. I had also noticed that she just liked having it in her mouth during the day to be quiet and look around. Nope, not happening, my dear.

Plus it had become a wicked game at night. Bedtime was stretching to a good hour or more until she would go in her crib without waking up, which of course meant I was always up later than I should have been. Then the nightly feeding was all but torture. I would have to play the dreaded find-and-replace game way more than I was willing to in order to get her back to sleep, by which time it was usually almost time to get up for the day anyway. And she had begun throwing in a bonus wake up sometime in the midnight hour, just in search of that obnoxious pink pacifier.

I was quickly reverting back to the walking zombie state. Our new Keurig definitely helped remedy that situation with a horribly convenient caffeine stream, but that’s not the healthiest solution either.

So yesterday I just said f— it. Sorry, baby girl, but I’m done playing this game. You’re losing your suck privileges on that little piece of rubber. And so it began…

Her usually solid 2-3 hour morning nap was diminished to a 5 minute attempt and then a half hour sleep spell a little while later, but both were done with no pacifier. She got another half hour nap in the boppy mid-afternoon, a 45-50 minute nap on her giraffe playmat around 5, then a quick 20ish minute snooze in my arms at 8 before getting ready for bedtime. Overall much less nap time than normal and each sleep except the one on her playmat was induced by being bounced/rocked in my arms, but the pacifier was not used once.

Then came bedtime. And I was fully prepared for an all-out battle and a night of severely abbreviated sleep.

Bedtime actually went much better than I had expected. I changed her, swaddled her, fed her, and started the arm bounce between 8:30-9, and there was very little fuss. Her eyes got heavy sooner than I’d imagined, and it only took a handful of repeat bouncing rounds before she was totally asleep. So I put her in bed between 9:30-10, which is definitely in the scope of a regular bedtime for her. I also left 1 arm out of the swaddle for the first time, in case she needed to get that little hand in her mouth for some suckling.

I then went to bed at 10, heard a couple rustling spells during the night but no all-out cries so paid little attention, then finally sensed her waking and getting ready to squirm and cry. Ok, what time is it going to be – midnight, 1, 1:30?

Dudes – it was 4:30! She had just slept for 7 straight hours, and since I actually took advantage of that I slept for 6.5!! That probably sounds like nothing for a 3 month old, something that occurs regularly, but I cannot tell you the last time she pulled that one off. I’m not kidding when I say I felt as if I’d had a week’s worth of sleep when I got up to feed her at 4:30.

It was our own little Monday night miracle, my friends.

A baby sleeping the best she has in weeks on the first day of not being allowed to have her beloved pacifier? I’m calling it a miracle.

Maybe it was because she was worn out after not napping as much during the day. Maybe it was because she was more sated after having eaten more often during the day due to said lack of long naps. Maybe she just didn’t really need the pacifier anymore anyway, and we had simply become slaves to it on our own.

Who knows. And I don’t really care why. I just hope it continues! I actually feel rested this morning and have some energy to tackle things around the house. I feel like I won’t just drag through today like I have for the past couple.

Oh, but I still visited my friend Keurig first thing…