Don’t get me wrong. Round Two of baby-raising is infinitely easier. (Or maybe I’m infinitely less uptight?) Bean more often than not makes me think, well, if it just gets easier with each kid, why stop at two? (A dangerous school of thought, folks, only four months into it…)
But these last few days and nights, I have been attempting to “sleep-train” my daughter. (We don’t want a repeat of Bug’s sleep endeavors, which basically resulted in the first two years of his life sleeping in my arms, resulting in me getting half-sleep each night, and/or learning to reach REM sleep while sitting upright.) (P.S., No-fun.)
We (haha, that’s funny. I really mean I) are transitioning her from her bassinet in our bedroom to her crib in her very own room with linens that actually match, and last night was her first night away from our bedside.
We survived. Mostly because I snoozed on the floor beside her crib just to make sure she was breathing okay, or she didn’t bang the backs of her heels against the hard wood when she kicks her feet up in her sleep (sending a jolt of pain through her tiny body akin to hitting your funny bone), or she somehow didn’t fall in between the mattress and the wooden slats, despite it being designed specifically to prevent that, or she didn’t wake up in sheer panic because everything was unfamiliar…in the dark…where she really can’t see anything anyway…and all our ceilings are identical…
What was I saying again about being less uptight? Right. Scratch that.