Experimental Bedtimes

Last night, I decided to do an experiment with my six month old's sleep schedule. He typically is devoted to his 11:30 am and 3:30 pm naps, but by the time bedtime rolls around at just after 7:00, he is a diligent fighter. Sleep is for the weak, thanks for the snacktime, now play with me, Mommy! Typically I feed him, attempt to put him to sleep in his crib while he's drowsy, and within minutes, he's alerting us that he's not planning on accepting the journey to dreamland anytime soon. It usually results in sitting with him in a dark room for an hour and a half as he props himself up on his chubby arms and babbles at my boobs after deciding he is full. It seems absolutely ineffective for a bedtime routine. I suggested, finally, that we let him stay awake longer, knowing fully that we had the possibility of getting an overtired infant whom not even a mother could comfort.

Kaslo's bedtime was ignored as Karl and I curled up on the couch together, critiquing new episodes of the Emmy award-winning Homeland. Kaslo sat beside me on the couch, fully entertained by the noises created when he slapped his hand down on my stomach. I could tell that the concept of sleep was clearly not even glimmering in his thoughts. Around 8:30, an hour and a half after his normal bedtime, and after Karl and I had denounced Homeland as having potential, but drawn out and predicable, Kaslo starts to rub his face and fuss.

I cradle him in my arms as he has his bedtime go-to-sleep meal, and he's out like a light. I lay him gently down in his bed concluding that parenting experiment #41 is a success. Karl and I turn on the video games, fighting on-line to secure flags in Battlefield 3.  We compete as recon and assault classes on the Metro map against skilled opponents, expecting to hear Kaslo's cry at around 11. At midnight, held down at our base, struggling to secure a single objective, I assume that his awakening schedule was pushed back an hour and a half. By 1:00 in the morning, I tentitively go to sleep, knowing that I would be woken up momentarily for my son's midnight snack.

Karl nudges me over on the couch to make room for him. It's four in the morning. I excuse myself, realizing my son hasn't yelled for his mother's attention. Upstairs, I creak the door open, revealing a slumbering infant. Amazed, I sneak back down the stairs and curl up with Karl. 30 minute later later, all of which I stare at the ceiling unable to sleep, Kaslo awakens. We curl up in the bed and he soothes himself by feeding back to sleep.

Awakening with the sun filtering through the sheer curtains, I realize that it's 8:30. The concept is bizarre to me, someone who's son identifies 6:30 as Good Morning Mommy time.

Parenting experiment #41 was an absolute success, and I am a very rested, happy mother.

We spend the morning curled up together on the bed. We play Patty-Cake, This Litle Piggy, and Roll Baby Across The Bed. Tiny fingers grasp bubble-wrap, determining the many uses for this new-found Best Toy Ever. He gets distracted by Mommy reading her library book, and makes a stoic attempt to consume it. Efforts to hide my book behind his head, distracting him with a rattling stuffed car, allows me to read three pages more, but he figures out my ruse and twists wildly to take ownership of the shiny paper cover.

Karl comes upstairs to say good morning to our monkey-man, and at 11:30, Kaslo drifts off to slumber for his first nap. I gently lay him down in his crib, careful not to disturb the firm grasp he still has on the bubble wrap.