Have you heard of the book
“Go the F*** to Sleep” by Adam Mansbach? You must have by now. It’s hilarious. It brought us back to the newborn days: the miserable first 8-10 weeks of Jill’s life when a full night of sleep wasn’t an option.
Jill’s been a good sleeper since, with interment waves of teething and bad dream cry out wake-ups. Fast forward to summertime and longer days: Jill doesn’t want to go to bed. She sees the remaining sunlight and wants to play – in her room, with her musical activity table, on the dog, outside, watching Thomas, anything but lying quietly in bed. And so bedtime has successfully (by Jill’s notes) been pushed back to 8 p.m.
By 8, Jill’s “rubbing eyes,” yawning and asking to be put to bed. It’s been seamless. Until the longer days kicked in. Monday night I was sure I wouldn’t see Jill. I had an offsite meeting at the
Fairmont Battery Wharf, a
walking culinary tour and a team dinner at
Antico Forno. It was after 8:30 when I finally got home. Jill fell asleep only 10 minutes earlier, Tony said. It was a multi-step, multi-try, multi-cups-of-milk and multi-cups-of-Cheerios bedtime. Jill was handing Tony his cell phone as if to say, “Mom’s not here. Call her and tell her to come home right away.” I tiptoed up the stairs and into Jill’s room, leaned over the crib railing and brushed the hair away from her eyes. She was sweating. Wrapped herself so tightly in her blanket that she was sweating. Then she woke up and saw me. HUGE smile. I lifted her up for a lighter clothing swap and she hugged me tightly. All of the sudden Jill was wide awake; it was playtime; and it was pushing 9 p.m. And I thought I wasn’t going to see her Monday night. Silly me. Please refer to above mentioned book.
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