Friday the 13th, Indeed.

As you all know, last week was mine and Noah Finn's first week home all alone and as I reported half way through the week, all was rosy and fun. That is until Friday, Friday the 13th, and the last day of the first week. Perhaps this is not new news for more experienced mommies, but eating and sleeping for Noah has not followed any kind of predictable pattern so far. As soon as we think that we have figured something out--oh, he eats every two hours--or--oh, he goes to sleep every three hours--he changes it on us without warning. And last Friday was an exercise of mommy's patience for change.

He woke up from "night sleep" at about 10:45 a.m. and, of course, ate. We played, changed diaper(s), played some more and began winding down for nap time (Drs. recommend that babies until 6 months of age nap every two to three hours). Sometimes Noah goes a little past the recommended two to three hours, so when he appeared not sleepy, we continued to play, giggle, change and feed until about 3:00 p.m. Still displaying no signs of weary eyes, I tried to put him down to sleep nonetheless--after all, it had been over four hours now.

Sleep for him and a break for me, however, were not in the cards for either of us. Nope--Mr. Bright Eyes and Bushy Tail woke up after five minutes. I tried several times again immediately--swaddling, white noise, shushing, rocking--same result--sleep was on vacation and it wasn't visiting L.A.

So, we read and rocked, ate and sang, danced and gooed until he began to doze in my arms while feeding and the clock struck 5:00 p.m. My arms ached--I was growing weary and ever so slightly frustrated--I couldn't put him down for longer than 15 minutes or else monumental meltdowns would occur. Again, I tried to put him down to sleep several times with no success.

So, we swung and bounced, bathed and massaged until the clock was ticking towards 8:00 p.m. Yet gain, I tried to put him down to sleep several times with no success. . . . And, then, I began to cry--uncontrollably--sobbing. I called Dean several times at work. He desperately tried to do what he could over the phone--begged me to come to the studio so that he could give me a break. But it was raining, cold and blustery outside--I was still in my P.J's and looked as if I had been caring for an infant that hadn't slept at any point in the last nine hours.

So, I paced from room to room rocking the baby with no eye lids from side-to-side as I cried--from exhaustion, frustration and defeat.

11:30 p.m. approached and Dean came home from work and took over "Operation Infant Insomniac". By midnight, the little monkey was asleep--over 13 hours later.

How did he sleep during the day on Saturday and Sunday while Dean was at home, you ask? Like a baby.