Fern's Floor Bed Featured On Bedstart!

My post a few weeks back about Fern's new Montessori floor bed has brought many visitors to the blog--apparently the floor bed is making a real come back--and Anne, of the brand new website Bedstart, was one of them. She sent me an e-mail a few days ago asking if she could feature Fern's room. I, of course, enthusiastically agreed and, et voila, the site launched today! Stumble on by if you have a chance.

As a last note, it's been nearly a month now since we began experimenting with the new sleeping arrangements and are so very happy to report that all eyes are still slumbering seamlessly. Though the transition has signaled the end of exclusive co-sleeping with Fern, the floor bed has maintained the established sleep connection while providing a new physical space that both encourages and fosters "independence, concentration, movement, self-esteem, decision-making, and balanced, healthful development of body, mind and spirit". I can still snuggle, nurse and cuddle as often as needed--something that just couldn't be done with a crib. For more reading on the Montessori floor bed visit my earlier post, The Montessori Floor Bed: Connecting Space, Sleep, Play & Development.

The Montessori Floor Bed: Connecting Space, Sleep, Play + Development.

While Dean and I have most often subscribed to Waldorf and RIE parenting philosophies over the last few years, many Montessori principles have occasionally intersected. When I was pregnant with Noah, I came across a Montessori article suggesting the use of floor beds in lieu of cribs. While it sounded appealing and in-line with the kind of natural child-rearing methods that we were in interested in practicing, there was something all too alluring and well-ingrained about a crib-clad nursery. So, when my grandmother offered to buy one for Noah, I eagerly agreed.

But, there it stood. Alone. Empty. Noah didn't do much sleeping for two long years. It wasn't until shortly after he self-weaned just before his second birthday that he finally began banking some real quality shut-eye. Thus, the crib was really never used. We co-slept until Fern was born this past May when he eagerly self-weaned, again, into his very own toddler bed. And, co-sleeping for my husband and I (besides the no-sleeping part) was wonderfully enjoyable, so we never considered any other sleeping arrangement when our little Fern came along--she would be our new bed-buddy until she decided otherwise, too.

But, Fern has been a different baby and I cannot emphasize the different part enough. Fern sleeps. She sleeps naturally, peacefully, without any voodoo, tricks, or trying. She has slept that way since the day she was born and just last week she slept, entirely of her own volition, until the wee hours of the morning with no nursing wake-ups at all. For us, this is HUGE. After a few nights of this slumber-fest, Dean and I began to wonder if moving her from our bed and into a space of her own might mean really restful deep sleep for the whole entire family--after a  v e r y  l o n g  three year hiatus. And, then I remembered the article that I had read so long ago (excerpt from The Joyful Child, Montessori from Birth to Three):

"Every child follows a unique timetable of learning to crawl to those things he has been looking at, so that he may finally handle them. This visual, followed by tactile, exploration is very important for many aspects of human development. If we provide a floor bed or mattress on the floor in a completely safe room—rather than a crib or playpen with bars—the child has a clear view of the surroundings and freedom to explore.

A bed should be one which the baby can get in and out of on his own as soon as he is ready to crawl. The first choice is an adult twin bed mattress on the floor. Besides being an aid to development, this arrangement does a lot to prevent the common problem of crying because of boredom or exhaustion.

It helps to think of this as a whole-room playpen with a baby gate at the doorway and to examine every nook and cranny for interest and safety. If the newborn is going to share a room with parents or siblings we can still provide a large, safe, and interesting environment.

Eventually he will explore the whole room with a gate at the door and then gradually move out into the baby-proofed and baby-interesting remainder of the house.

These are the beginning stages of independence, concentration, movement, self-esteem, decision-making, and balanced, healthful development of body, mind, and spirit."

It couldn't have been better timing, because just this past weekend Fern began to crawl. So, out went the (unused) crib and down went the mattress, onto the floor. Last night was the second night of experimentation and both nights have been the most truly restful in recent memory. But, even more important than continued sleep success, I am moved by how something as simple as this has inspired me to envision the connection of space, sleep and play in a way that fosters independence, confidence and the true freedom to explore, imagine and learn. Because sleep had always been such an "issue" for Noah and us by default, the ability to fathom this kind of autonomous sleep/play environment always seemed beyond all of our abilities to imagine--his, as a sleepless infant and us, as his bewildered and super-exhausted parents. But, after only 9 months of co-sleeping, our little Fern was apparently ready and we recognized the signs.

When Dean and I awoke this morning to the sound of Noah and Fern playing together in their room just across the hall from ours, I nearly cried. Fern had woken, crawled from her bed, chosen a toy, and began to play alongside her brother. Just this afternoon, I peeked into the room to observe her in her new space alone--with eyes still sleepy from a long morning nap, she cooed as she lay gazing at the mobile above and rolling from side-to-side. A few moments later she crawled off of the bed and over to a basket of toys nearby and began playing.

It's bittersweet really, as all transitions in parenthood are. I thought that I would have her tiny soft body snuggled right beside mine much longer...the soft whispers of her deep sleeping breaths and her warm nose nuzzled close as she suckled at my breast. Last night as Dean and I crawled into our cold, empty, childless bed, I asked him if he thought we made the right decision and if he missed her as much as I did. Yes, and yes, he said.

It could all change at any time, I realize. Sleep, with kids, is elusive and something that is in constant flux. Noah still occasions our bed and I am sure Fern will too--and they are both welcome, anytime, always. But, nevertheless, I have spent the last day or so preparing the kid's room for the change--creating a low shelf with just a few simple objects that I will rotate weekly and ensuring that the space is inspiring, as well as, safe for independent unassisted exploration. There are still so many things that I need/want to add to Fernie's sleep nook--a mirror next to the bed, a homemade felt story board on the empty wall above the toys on the floor, framed pictures--but it's a start.

Car Picnic.

The weather here today is chilly, rainy and Noah Finn is a little snuffly. It took us from the time we woke up this morning until 5 minutes before we were supposed to leave to discuss and waiver around whether or not we were going to attend our Friday morning parent's group.

Finally, after a frenzied teeth brushing, changing and packing event, we decided to make a break for it and headed over to the eastside 10 minutes after the start of the group. By the time we arrived--some 30 minutes late and soggy--our little guy was sound asleep in the backseat of the car.

Now, this is a dilemma of grand proportions that only parents truly know. But, very early on, we instituted an unwritten family rule of sorts--never wake a sleeping baby. If they're sleeping, we figure, they must need the rest. This child-rearing code of ours has meant that we have spent many hours in a parked car twiddling thumbs while listening to NPR on the radio--or many a derailed yoga, playdate or lunch plan because Noah decides to doze just minutes before walking out of the door.

These moments are frustrating. It takes minutes, hours even sometimes, to prepare for an excursion: Diapers? check. Diaper covers? check. Wipes? check. Sippy cup? check. Snack cup? check. Snacks? check. Extra socks? check. Jacket? check. Extra set of clothes? check. A few toys for distraction purposes? check. Snot rag? check. check. check.

But, for us, they also mean that if all else is rotten on any particular day of parenting, at least we made our best effort towards having a well-rested child. And as any parent also knows, being well-rested is more than half of the ingredients needed to make a happy child and, thus, good day for all.

So, we made the best of our situation and drove away from our earlier destination's parking lot and into the metered parking of a favorite cafe of ours down the street for coffee and pastry take-out. We had a car picnic, in the rain, in the car, and it was lovely. As the pastries drew to crumbs and our backseat sleeper began to stir, we started the car and began for home.

Nap? check.

Doing The "Right" Thing Is Never Easy.

Baby knows best. Really. They are perhaps not scholars just yet, but they do know what they need better than any of us and well, we should listen to them. And, if we would listen they would probably say . . . that doing the "right" thing is never easy.

Like when you were a kid and were forced to apologize and admit error--it was the "right" thing to do, but it was so hard to say that you were wrong. Or, choosing to skip a party in order to study instead of cheating on a final exam in high school. Studying was hard work, but it was "right", right?

I've come to the conclusion, or even grand epiphany perhaps, that doing the "right" thing as a parent is also not the easier choice. I came to this conclusion after struggling once again following sleepless nights and clingy days with the attachment parenting philosophy that we have adopted as parents. The attachment parenting tenets are simple really and were so appealing to us initially because they essentially support the beliefs that we already held about parenting. To us, AP principles just seem like no-brainers: go to your child when he cries--he needs you, breastfeed your baby--it's food that's literally made for him, sleep with your child--because you are a parent at night too, use positive discipline to teach your child--negativity punishes, hold and wear your baby--it fosters bonding and security, etc.

Even rereading these as I type them, I find myself nodding in agreement--unable to imagine parenting any other way. But problems arise for this gentle parenting scenario not from any inherent flaws in a plan that seeks to parent gently and respectfully, but from other parents who have found an "easier" way. See, this kind of parenting requires a mom and dad who are fully committed to sacrificing much of their own needs for that of their baby's. In other words, it takes dedication and patience--a lot, a lot of patience--and a great deal of self-sacrifice.

I am specifically talking about the issue of nighttime sleeping. Fewer issues get as much airtime during playdates, mommy groups, or any other gathering of moms and babies--it's simply at the heart of every discussion. Exhausted, delirious and desperate mommies eagerly compare notes and exchange sleep tricks in search of something that will help them get more sleep. And, no matter how you try and spin it or how much you try to avoid the inevitable final conclusion, the sleep issue comes down to two dismal options: "sleep training" your baby, or not.

Sleep training methods vary greatly from one to another, but the one thing that they all have in common is that they all include some degree of crying. I have written before about my feelings as they pertain to "crying it out" and though that was many sleepless months ago, I still do have a problem with my baby crying--yes, I've said it, I do not let my baby cry without intervening in an effort to alleviate the cause whatever that cause may be. Why? Because I believe that my son is communicating with us when he is crying--I do not believe that babies cry just to cry, in other words. Sometime this communication may be asking for basic needs to be met and other times it may just be a way to ask for a hug, a cuddle, or a kiss. But, you see, one does not surpass the other in importance for me. My baby's need to be touched is just as importance as his need to be fed or changed. I will respond in either case and at any time. And that is where myself and my husband diverge from the parents who try to sell us the success of sleep training and tout the amount of sleep that it has brought them. But, at what cost, I want to ask them.

I believe family bed advocates when they claim that co-sleeping raises independent, confident and secure children--I also believe that leaving your baby to fend for them self during these times of nighttime need may produce children who are more dependent, anxious and insecure. I also know that these one or two or three years dealing with his sleeplessness as a baby is small in scale when compared to the number of years that we won't have to. I will be old and he will no longer by my baby--I will look back on these years with a tender heart yearning for the moments when I was able to hold him in my arms to return.

I do, however, from time to time grow weak--very weak. I do whine and fuss and complain about exhaustion and the need for a moment to myself. During these times I do momentarily wonder if we should not also "train" Noah to self soothe, to sleep alone, to quiet his need for love, comfort and affection just because it is the moon, not the sun, that has risen above the horizon. Those parents are convincing and proud. They're confident and I suppose, maybe even some look rested.

But, then I give it a second thought. I listen to my heart and am reminded of why I have chosen the more challenging path. When I grow weak and weary, I turn a listening ear to my instinct, my mama gut--and find that I know deep down in my heart that parenting this way, for me, is the "right" way to parent. And, like all things that are "right" it is most certainly the more difficult choice--it may continue to be for a while still to come. But . . . doing the "right" thing is never easy, right?

Midnight Mommying, Nightime Nuturing.

You don't cease being a parent just because the sun sets--so, why would you want to act like you do?

Parenting is a 24 hour job. Your child needs you during the daytime, so you go to him. Your child needs you at nighttime, so you go to him, right? You would think so, but there are more books out there on sleep training then I can shake a stick at and I think it's darn right scary.

I posted a heated rant on one of the most controversial of those sleep methods, Babywise, a few weeks ago and it sparked commenter debate mostly in my favor. But, still I feel unease at the quantity of literature, mothers and even complete strangers who try to convince me to practice crying it out methods.

This is why reading Danielle's post on Attachment Parenting's blog today called, "Adventures in Nighttime Parenting" really struck a chord with me. Choosing to be a mom who does not believe in crying it out, can be a isolating decision. And, hearing mom after mom tout their child's healthy independence as a result of their successful sleep training just doesn't sit well with me.

The needs of your child don't dissipate with the setting sun--they still may find themselves uncomfortable in a dirty or wet diaper, they still might have grumbling bellies, they possibly could be enduring pain from teething or experiencing moments of loneliness. Allowing a child to cry them self to sleep and throughout the night is essentially the equivalent to taking the night off as a parent. If you wouldn't let them cry for these reasons during the day, then why would you at night?

Danielle and the 12 commenters on her blog have given me the gift of confidence in the fact that I am not alone on those long dark nights of sleeplessness--those nights of constant nursing, fussing, fidgeting and waking. I find comfort in knowing that there are other mothers facing the same challenges at night as I am and responding in the same way--being there no matter what.

Some nights I feel desperate. Some days I feel exhausted. But, the most important thing for me to remember is that these first years are fleeting. Noah will one day, when he's ready, sleep on his own in his own way and on his own terms. I look forward to looking back at these long, weary, foggy nights of little sleep with no regrets. I find peace in knowing that my son never cried for me in the night when I did not appear--that when he reached for me I was there.

These moments in our dark moonlit room are special. Time briefly pauses long enough for me to watch him grow, feel his breath against my breast and know that he is comforted by my nearness.

My role of mommy continues even with the setting sun. And, with a little nighttime help from daddy, I know that I can make it, albeit sleepily, to see it set and rise again.

When Baby Advice Goes Wrong. Seriously Wrong.

This is going to be a long one folks.

Where have I been? Living under a rock? Well, yes, kind of--I have an infant--same thing. But, still . . . how have I not been following the controversy surrounding Babywise? Seriously.

I stumbled upon a post about it today on SortaCrunchy's blog. Trying to find out what all the fuss was about, I Googled it, of course, and was shocked (to say the least) by what I found.

The book's "Product Description" on Amazon refers to the concepts found in the book as "Infant Management". Infant management!? Seriously? What the hell is that? The word "managing" near the word "baby" sort of replaces the warm and fuzzies with an image of a cold and tinny dictator waving a bull whip near a nest of baby chicks.

It continues by stating that the book is "an alternative to sleepless nights and fussy babies." Isn't that what babies naturally do? Seriously. They can't talk. My friend Asami told me that in Japan they have a one word sentiment that means "babies cry at night" and that Japanese people often refer to the first year with baby by using this word. Why? Because that's what babies do. The first year of life is wrought with jarring and tumultuous change and crying is the only way that babies can express their concern, or worry, or angst, or pain, or hunger.

And don't think I don't know what it's like not to sleep. I have a seven month old insomniac who hasn't caught more than an hour or two at a time of shut eye since the day he was born. I know. I so know. But, I am mom. I will mother and nurture and care for and parent him until he is old enough to sleep through the night and explain his woes through language rather than tears at 3 a.m. Am I tired? Yes. But, sleepless nights and fussy babies are part and parcel to parenting. It's the contract you signed when you made the kid bargain.

I saved the best for last. The description also claims that the book's methods aim to free parents who are "enslaved to the infant's unknown needs". Okay, hold the freakin' diaper cream. Enslaved? Unknown needs? Seriously? I'd rather refer to it as feeding my baby who has not yet learned the skill of lifting fork to mouth. I'd rather refer to it as removing the poop from the butt crack of my child who has not yet learned to control his bowels. I know what he needs and I intend to give it to him.

Point in short--I have never seen more terrifying words in the same sentence as the word "baby". What are these people thinking? This "so called sleep training method" completely removes nurturing from mothering and mothering from parenting and parenting from raising a child.

The most shocking of all is the description of the book and it's author, Gary Ezzo, given on Christianity Today--which is uber interesting as the book, it seems, is most popular among Christians.

"A central element of Ezzo's plan in Babywise is feeding newborns on a firm schedule, controlled by parents, rather than "on-demand," whenever a newborn seems hungry. Ezzo says his parent-directed method is essential to develop respectful, obedient, and godly children. Yet many breast-feeding mothers report that they have been unable to produce an adequate milk supply when following the program according to Matthew Aney, a California pediatrician.

A major focus of Babywise is to get infants to sleep all night as soon as possible. But some pediatricians, when comparing newborns whose parents use Ezzo's guidelines to other infants, have noted a higher incidence of inadequate weight gain, dehydration, and failure to thrive. Critics also sharply question other Babywise emphases, such as introducing a form of spanking in children younger than 2 (CT, Nov. 13, 2000, p. 70)."

Before I burst a blood vessel, I am going to close with the comment that I left for SortaCrunchy in response to her post and her other reader's comments. You'll notice my very agreeable and restrained tone. I posted it before I researched "Babywise". Nevertheless, it still holds true and it is a lot more eloquent than the above enraged babbling. And someone, please tell me that I've got this all wrong. Please tell me that I have gravely misunderstood an otherwise innocuous guide that simply offers gentle suggestions for helping your baby sleep more soundly at night. Please tell me that people don't actually envision parenting this way. Please tell me.

"Other than reading the post and comments, I have no personal experience with Babywise. But I do know that as a new parent, we can all use a little guidance . . . knowing where to find it, however, isn't always easy.

My husband and I have discovered the joys of "Attachment Parenting". It, so far, has provided us with a guide for a gentle, natural and rewarding parenting style. It's a "philosophy" that really only puts in print what most mothers already inherently know . . . go to your baby when he needs you to be there, hold your baby when he wants to be held, soothe your baby when he needs to be soothed--love your baby when he wants to be loved.

I don't believe that the answers to parenting can be found in a book. Parenting is not black and white enough to put in print. Rigid rules and dogmatic directions sour the natural instinct that a mother has for caring for her baby.

Following instincts and receiving a little bit of guidance when that instinct clouds from time to time is our chosen path . . . and so far, so good."

Eureka! We've Struck Gold!

Enameled gold, that is! Like early west-heading proprietors excitedly seeking that sparkly stuff among riverbed rocks, new parents yearn longingly for the eruption of baby's first tooth--hoping that the months of excruciating pain for both them and their wee tot will, if only temporarily, subside.

Noah has been teething since he was three months old and for the most part--aside from the rosy red cheek rashes, sleepless nights and more drool than a St. Bernard--teething has been tolerable. That is, until the last three weeks. Dean and I were beginning to seriously consider taking our cradle crab to a baby behavioral specialist (Is there even such a thing? There should be!). We were convinced that the non-stop whining, clinginess and downright 24 hour dissatisfaction was due to either something we did or didn't do to/or for him during his very short 5.5 months here on earth . . . or we were cursed with a baby that would grow into a tot who'd get us thrown out of every restaurant, movie theater and theme park until his 18th birthday.

That is until this morning. While groggily chewing on Dean's fingers in the wee hours of the early morn--his favorite first thing to do in the morning after I pry him from my boob--Dean felt a razor sharp edge. After attempting to peer in the busy wet mouth for next to half an hour, we finally spotted in gleaming white, peeking out from beneath the soft pinkness of swollen gums . . . Noah's first tooth . . . and the reason we almost committed our little cherub to a cell with padded walls.

Cursed teeth . . . 1 down and 19 more to go. Why can't they just come already "attached" when born? Like fingers and toes?

Dean Slept On The Couch Last Night.

. . . not because he was in the doghouse, though--I slept there with him.

Noah's version of sleeping for the large part since he was born is, well, really not sleeping. He's never been a champion snoozer and with the addition of all of these fantastically exciting new skills he is picking up on a daily basis compounded with a furious case of the teething blues, he has turned into an downright insomniac.

So, after he finally went down for the seven-hundred-and-seventieth time last night, we hunkered down on our oversized craig's list couch at midnight and decided to call it our head's home for as long as he slept . . . so as not to wake him when we finally crawled into bed.

Sound crazy? Maybe. Yes, even! But . . . he slept for a delicious two hours! And we were ecstatic.

Don't Wake The Sleeping Giant, Please.

Okay, he's not a giant by any measure, but his presence at any time after bedtime sure does feel portentous.

In response to my parent's efforts at keeping quite during their visit when Noah was three weeks old, Dean and I proudly declared that we were not going to have that kind of baby--one that you have to go out of your way not to wake. Nope. We planned to go about our domestic tasks as before and, as a result, the baby would become naturally acclimated to the sounds of our home. Yeah . . . no. That's not really the way it works in real life. No.

We live in a one bedroom apartment, but it's a fairly large well laid out one bedroom apartment. Nevertheless, all activity that produces more than a whisper of noise stops after Noah goes down for anything even resembling sleep. We tip toe, we whisper, we mute the t.v., we silence the phones, we plan showers or wardrobe changes prior to the sleep act else we must brave the world in whatever we find ourselves wearing without access to our closets or dresser drawers, we don't do dishes, we don't do laundry else the creaking of the wicker basket under the weight of a full dirty load is considered in the noise "danger zone".

Why do we do all of this? Because there are only very few things that return the babe to his sweet, albeit always brief, slumber--okay, there's really only one--my boob, and it cherishes its few sweet minutes of freedom from the sticky grips of drowsy infant paws as much as its owner does. And because the promise of a few minutes of rest for the weary, both him and us, is well needed on all fronts.

If anyone out there has any tips on helping an infant sleep more soundly we're open to all advice because the dishes and laundry are piling up . . .

Bring On The Blankies.

So, since we've last reported we've made leaps and bounds in the sleep department. I don't want to speak too soon or jinx our newly found sleeping success (because things change very fast in baby raising land), but I must rejoice in the progress we've made. Well, and I shouldn't even say "we", because as everyone who has a child knows, there really is no "we" when it comes to a tiny tot's decision or readiness, as it may be in many cases, to do or not do something. It's solely the child's doing--we, as parents, just sit on the sidelines, powerlessly watching, wishing and hoping that whatever we are waiting for (potty training, sleeping through the night, weaning, etc.) comes with great speed and ease (either of which is rarely the case).

So what's all the fuss about, you ask? Well, today is day two--mark it, the second day of Noah napping twice--hear me, twice--in one day. Without a swaddle, without white noise, without bouncing, bopping, swishing or swaying, without waking up two dozen times, without clinging longingly to my boob keeping me a naptime prisonmate, without any tricks, trances or trepidation he has slept for two--hear me, two--hours twice--hear me, twice--a day.

Big deal, you say. Big deal? No. This is huge. For a child who has not napped twice (much less once lately) since he had his umbilicus stump still attached, this is huge and we are so proud. He's sleeping like a big boy, a real big boy. Leaps and bounds I say, leaps and bounds.

Much to our chagrin, however, he has recently developed a fondness for one fuzzy polyester (oie!) blanket from the PX (similar to a Wal-Mart, just on a military base) in Fayetteville, North Carolina to be his newest sleeping companion/naptime soothing/insomnia slaying trick--but hey, whatever, we'll take it. Opps, did I say we weren't using sleep tricks anymore? Well, okay, maybe just one.

Now, let's just work on nighttime. Opps, did I say *let us*? I meant, Dean and I will sit on the sidelines, powerlessly watching, wishing and hoping that Noah's "readiness" for nighttime sleep comes with great speed and ease (neither of which will probably be the case). But, we can wish, can't we? Because like everything else with our little Noah Finn, he'll surprise us when we're least expecting it. And, we'll be proud, so proud of our big, big boy.

Confessions Of A Killer.

Or, sleep killer, that is. What . . . or . . . Who is a "sleep killer", you ask? My son. My son is the killer of sleep. He has efficiently and effectively snuffed any rogue Zzzz's that were managing to occasionally pay a visit to our sleep deprived abode since his arrival four and a half months ago--and he is standing guard at the front door to ensure that none return, at least any time soon.

Last week we decided to ditch our robust social schedule of yoga, play dates, classes and play groups for a more sleep-attentive one--one where I would "pay attention to his tired cues" and attempt to immediately follow with a "prenaptime or prebedtime routine". This we were trying in lieu of our previous non-method method which included Noah sleeping wherever we happen to be whenever the mood of sleep may strike him as we had been doing with lukewarm success. Some days this worked quite well while others it didn't.

The results of our sleep experiment of sorts, however, failed to bring the rewards of rest we were anticipating. Instead it brought Noah no closer to naps or nighttime sleep than before and created an incredibly frustrated and interaction-deprived mommy. We are returning to our social schedule--we must, or else mommy will have to join the league of cuckoos at an institution with padded walls and drooling babblers--and we are crossing our fingers that Noey Finn one day finds the gentle folds of sleep as appealing as mommy and daddy do. In the meantime, on we trek down the dense woozy path of sleep deprivation--seeking a cozy cottage somewhere in a clearing hopefully up ahead where babies and their parents sleep all night and even perhaps nap during the day.

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.

Thank You, Dr. Harvey Karp.

To say, "oh, he's growing so fast", would be falling prey to an age old cliché--but can I be at fault if it IS really true? Noah Finn is growing like a weed, physically and developmentally. Here's a laundry list of recent developments for YOU, Grandmas and Great Grandmas, since I know you feel like you're just missing it all:

At 5 Weeks:

• loves laying on our bed and ceiling fan gazing for as long as we'll let him
• smiles beautiful heart-wrenching gummy smiles at least several times an hour (even in his sleep) in response to mom and dad's nauseating baby speak
• goos and gaas at a rate that has convinced us he'll be calling up Tickle Me Elmo for a play date by sometime next week
• absolutely, positively relishes laying on his changing table--regardless of any fit that precedes a diaper changing, a good stint on the changing table solves it all
• holds up his head (but he's been doing this since week 1) with the confidence of an athletic ostrich
• adores bath time--even if unpreventable "unmentionables" often make it into the bathing tub
• makes incredible attempts at standing (even though I know this is too early and is not good for his leg development--but he does it on his own while we're holding him in our laps!)
  

Dr. Harvey Karp's "Five S's" warrants a mention here too. Mom first introduced us to the method and Jessica sealed the deal with her visit and offering of his book and tutorial DVD. The five S's, Swaddling, Shooshing, Swinging, Side lying and Sucking, has turned arduous hours of consoling a fussy "fourth trimester" baby into a cooing bundle of smiling bliss. Yes, we have fallen prey yet again, this time to gimmicky tricks for calming our fussy baby. But, hey, when you're operating on a torture victim at Guantánamo Bay's amount of nightly sleep, you'll likely try just about anything. THANK YOU, Dr. Harvey Karp!