Big Boy Sleep

The face of joy. (Oct. 7) I'm adding pictures into past entries. Two in Oct and a few in Sept. :)

Wow. Noah was up at 5 am (and 1:30 am, so much for the big sleep) and then at 7:15 without much sleep in between. While preparing to go out to a fundraiser for parents of multiples (that would be twins, triplets, etc.) that involves used baby clothes (!) I put him in his co-sleeper to watch the mobile, which he did until it stopped.

And then while I watched him he put himself to sleep. In his co-sleeper. All on his very own.

Guess who's not rushing out to the fundraiser? As much as it pains me (and it does) to not go find ultra-inexpensive clothing (and the 3-6 month stuff seems hardly worn when you do find it and he's close enough to fitting it; and I know it will be picked over by the time he wakes up and nurses and is changed and then we get in the car... etc.) this is a moment of much celebration. For lo, the baby has hated the wide expanse of the co-sleeper and also wanted to be rocked and soothed to sleep. And today he put himself down.

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We took Noah over to M's on Thursday for coffee and it was a lot of fun, although not as much fun as it would have been if he hadn't been a bit grunty/fussy. Gas combined with hunger, and when I nursed him there he was distracted and wriggly. But oh, getting out was nice. This week has been especially confining: a lot of rain, I still don't have my own car which I could rant about but really comes down to not quite being ready to lock into payments for a new one or put the effort into finding a good used one. And oh yes, one-hour nurse on demand.

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I have compromised on y'all's excellent cookie giving out suggestion. And it is a good one. And I should do it. But I have this strange quirk in my personality that I keep stumbling over that makes it hard to go trade cookies for friends... yes I know that's not the point and not what it's about. Truly, I do. And if only Lyria would take charge of it, we'd be well on our way. But she won't, because I stressed her out this year ignoring the fact that she was practically dying living at my parents' every month and she's completely gun-shy right now about things. (At least I think she won't.)

And I have this - mnn - chip on my shoulder? Expectation? Whatever it is, it still feels to me like trading cookies for friends. It comes from lousy elementary school experiences involving being at the nadir of class popularity combined with ill-conceived hippy carob cupcakes. A party would be easier, except I really should have done that before Noah 'cause the idea of having a full-scale party here right now is scary. So I came up with two solutions. The first is that I'm organizing a cookie exchange. See? I can handle cookies (and snacks and drinks and festivities at my house) as long as they're reciprocal.