Sleep, glorious sleep.

I know what you’re thinking: Surely he didn’t really pull his diaper off...

Twice, friends. Twice.

We’re going on Day 8 - or as I like to call it, “ARE WE DONE YET?” – and things are slowly getting better. Sure he still hollers for 45 minutes (each and every! I'd be a liar if I didn't say that I occasionally worry about how long this is going on but I can't figure out any other solution) and he seems to have decided that 5 am is a perfectly acceptable wake up time BUT! he’s sleeping a solid nine to ten hours and that, dear readers, is progress. He’s still struggling to put two and two together with self-soothing though. I spend the bulk of his evening wail willing him to find his blankie (the one he’s CLUTCHING IN HIS HAND) but hysteria does funny things to a kid. Aside from the aforementioned diaper ditchings, a few nights ago he got so furious he flipped himself over. Apparently this was terrifying. He went flat-out berserk for about ten minutes until he realized that sleeping on his tummy was actually kind of nice. So nice in fact, that he slept for almost 11 hours! (Unfortunately I was up every hour to make sure he was still breathing.) I was hoping that he’d found a new way of comforting himself but last night it was back to business as usual. (The blankie’s RIGHT THERE, kid!) But there is sleep. Was it worth the $350 we paid for the fancy sleep trainer? I’m pulling out the double hockey sticks for this N-O. That said, a friend of mine considered dialing up Dr. Weissbluth (the foremost expert in infant sleep), she was so miserable. Dude charges $1,000 for a freaking phone consultation. Sleep deprivation leads to desperation, that’s all I have to say.