Adjusting

Adjusting to having five kids (seven and under) has been a little slower than I expected.  Heh.  I feel like I say this every time I have a new baby.  Seriously, I need to write myself a note and remember to read it the next time (God willing) I'm close to giving birth.  It would say something like: 

Yes, newborns are easier than toddlers, and yes they do sleep most of the day.  But remember that their schedule is totally unpredictable.  They are going to need to nurse, or be changed, or be bounced for twenty minutes at random and unexpected times - usually the moment you were finally about to start a new task or run out the door.  Don't expect to get as much done as you're used to, and definitely don't expect to do everything in the same order or at the same time as you were hoping.  In other words, newborns force you to just be flexible and let go of the things that are less important.

We're doing fine, really, but I think starting the schoolyear almost at exactly the same time as we had a new baby made things extra challenging - because I had only had a week of trying to get into the homeschooling groove before Felix came along and totally threw us off.  And now we're trying to tackle the increased challenge of schooling the two big kids at once for the first time AND juggling a crying baby, super troublesome toddler, and whiney three-year old.  (All while failing to keep up with laundry, dishes, cleaning, etc.  Thank goodness for the meal train the members of my Catholic Mom's group have been so generously participating in!)

This past week, we didn't even have an actual official school day, because we were busy dealing with a potential medical issue with Felix, and had to spend a couple days in the hospital.  Long story short, he does this weird thing where he constantly bends his head all the way back - it seems to be his preferred posture.  He does show signs of reflux, and a similar back-arching posture is common for reflux.  But he does this all the time - even when he's calm or asleep, not just when he's having a reflux episode.  So our pediatrician was "very concerned" and wanted us to check with a neurologist, since peculiar posturing like this sometimes indicates a neurological problem.

His usual posture

The neurologist wasn't sure what was causing it, and decided to admit him to the hospital so they could figure out what was going on.  Felix had a full team of doctors working with him, and none of them had ever seen a baby do this with his head.  My poor little guy (6 weeks old) was subjected to: a head ultrasound, an EEG, an EKG, a neck x-ray, an MRI, blood draws, a bunch of wires that monitored his basic functions, and (totally unnecessary), tubes for supplemental oxygen.  

With 26 probes on his head during his EEG

And....all the tests came back normal.  Which I'm definitely thankful for.  But it's a frustrating non-conclusion to the whole ordeal.  At this point, the working theory is that perhaps it's just a weird response he has to reflux.  So we're going to try him on some stronger medication for that, and see what happens.  If the unusual head positioning continues, we may have to look into physical therapy.

*****

A few things we have managed to find the time for during this busy phase of life:

We had Felix baptized!

We've gone on a few more family nature walks, and are hoping to fit in one or two more before winter sets in.  We all really enjoy doing this together, and have discovered a couple great woods for walking.  Each of the three "big kids" has their own nature journal that they use to keep a record of our interesting finds.

Stella: proving once again that *any* creature can be snuggled

Another worm for the journal

Tom finally took the time to show the kids how to use the Mass kit I made for them to play Mass.  I've seriously dreamed about them doing this since they were born, and it just melts my heart.

Fr. Sly getting vested before Mass

The elevation.  Linus is an altar boy, and is ringing the bell

Fe.Linus baptizing Stella's baby (named "Florabelle" - I wonder where she got that from? :-P ), whom she had been begging to have baptized all morning.

Another mom whose kids are in Catechesis of the Good Shepherd with Stella and Linus heard that I was a big fan of "old-fashioned" baby clothes, and gave me an amazing little collection of old baby boy clothes.  Those are like the holy grail of baby clothes for me.  I've found some adorable smocked and laced baby girl dresses at thrift stores and rummage sales in my day, but I have never ever come across a good old-fashioned baby boy outfit.  Look at some of these!!

And lastly, after almost a year of very slow-going work, I have finally finished Linus' quilt for his bed.  It turned out a lot bigger than a twin size, actually, so it will definitely grow with him.  When he was only two, and I asked him what sort of quilt he wanted, he had answered, "Blue. And Green.  And squares."  I think I pulled it off!

The pattern is called an Irish Chain

Easter and More Than You Want to Hear About Breastfeeding

Happy Easter to all!

Our Easter was sort of a blur for me, because I was sick for much of it.  I'm pretty sure I had mastitis (an infection related to breastfeeding) over the weekend.  We had all been planning to go to the Vigil Mass on Saturday night.  We were going to put the kids to bed early, then carry them to the car when it was time to leave, still in pajamas, and just let them lay on the pews and sleep through the Mass.  It worked for us last year.  I'd been feeling cold all day, and Tom kept saying I was crazy, because it was so nice out and the rest of the family was in short sleeves, while I was in a sweater and slippers.  As the kids' bedtime approached, it got really bad, and I was developing major chills, soreness, and other symptoms.  It was clear that I had a fever, so Tom ended up going to the vigil alone and I stayed home in bed.

When he got home at three in the morning (he'd gone out for delcicious unhealthy food afterwards with friends, as used to be our tradition before we had kids...I'm only a little jealous), I croaked out instructions to him as to where he could find all the hidden Easter goodies for the kids, and how I wanted them all layed out in their baskets.

Sly was so excited to see his basket in the morning, and kept saying, "I LOVE Easter!".  And we did our first-ever egg hunt for the kids, because we actually have a yard now (have I exclaimed this enough times yet?)

Sly changed into more a Spring-appropriate outfit later

I still didn't feel great, but the fever had broken, so I didn't feel like I was sick enough to miss Easter Mass entirely.  Though he didn't need to go again, Tom decided to come too so we bring the kids. We ended up at the Easter morning Mass, which I don't think I've attended for many years.  I wasn't prepared for it, so I didn't really have an outfit picked out (I feel like the vigil Mass calls for darker colors, and the morning Mass for brighter ones....but that might just be a personal opinion).  It's almost impossible to find a dress in my closet that both fits me and works for nursing.  I didn't even remember to wear a fun hat, let alone a nicer-than-usual veil!

And this was the best family photo we got, after many attempts.

Later, at our big family dinner, my uncle asked Sly, "So did the Easter Bunny visit you last night?"  Sly just gave him a look as if he thought he was totally insane, then said, "you're goofy."  We've never actually mentioned the Easter Bunny to him.  I just think it/he(?) is kind of silly, and doesn't really hold the same magic and legend status for me as Santa Claus.  We haven't explained how the baskets get filled, and Sly hasn't asked, so...I think we're all happy for now.

As the party wore on, I started getting feverish again, so we went home.  I sweated through another miserable night.  In the morning, I called up the midwives, and said basically, "I think I have mastitis, and I need antibiotics!!" But the midwives tend to prefer the least intervention possible, so I was told that instead I should spend the whole day "resting, drinking fluids, nursing my baby, and not doing anything else."  Ha - yeah right.  I think I actually laughed on the phone. 

I didn't get a ton of rest, but I tried to keep my workload light.  Thankfully, I seem to be getting over whatever it was, and the fever hasn't come back.

***

So I know we really should have done this long ago, but we haven't provided Sly with the actual word for "breasts". He knows all about how babies nurse from their mothers, and he asks me a lot of rather personal questions about it when I nurse Linus.  But each time, he's fumbling around in his speech, because he doesn't have terms for the parts he's asking about.  The other day, he asked if it hurt me if Linus pulled on "those little things" (nipples).

I should probably just tell him what everything is called, but I don't know - I guess I'm embarrassed about it?  Anyone have suggestions?

On a related note, today, Sly pointed to one of my breasts while Linus was nursing, and said "half gallon" then to the other, saying, "whole milk."  Oh my.

Too Much Christmas!

Total mess.  TOTAL.

I'm finally getting a chance to write after the craziness and busyness of Christmas and the days surrounding. We had what was, in all respects, a happy and joyful Christmas - we got to spend time with many different friends and family, we enjoyed much good food, exchanged many gifts, got a couple beautiful snowfalls, and there were no mishaps or fights or anything like that.  However....it was stressful.  The social obligations ended up just being too much.  Tom and I are already planning out ways to ensure that next year's Christmas is calmer and simpler.

The thing that made it hardest was the fact that Sly was kept at an intense level of excitement for days on end, which was inevitably followed by many huge "crashes".  He did nothing but go to parties, see lots of fun people he loves, eat cookies, eat candy, drink pop [soda, for those of you who don't call it the right name], miss naptimes, and stay up way past his bedtime.  He turned into an ABSOLUTE mess for a few days, and made us all miserable.

*****
Here's a rundown of the past week:

Friday the 21st
Our community had a little Christmas party.  Sly ate nothing but cake and ice cream for dinner, and then met Santa.

Saturday the 22nd
We had a cookie exchange party at our house, an annual tradition dating back to our college years. It was a wonderful time.  So many of our friends have scattered across the country since college, and many of them travelled back to Pittsburgh just for this party.  It made seeing them all together so much more special than it was back in the early days of this party.  Overwhelmingly positive.  But Sly ate nothing but cookies, helping to set him up for future disaster.

Sunday the 23rd
Mass, then brunch with friends who had stayed with us the night before.  Then, unless I'm forgetting something....it must have been a blissfully activity-free rest of the day!

Monday the 24th
On Christmas Eve, we went downtown to see the Christmas displays.  We ate lunch there, and my dad  met us there.  Sly got to meet Santa (again).  Stella screamed her head off while we were waiting in line because she wanted to be swadled, but the only thing we had in our under-packed bag was a travel changing pad - so yes, we used that instead.  We enjoyed the seasonal stuff downtown, and when we were all too tired to move, we went home for the briefest of naps.

Then it was time to get dressed up and head to my mom's house.  We ate some appetizers there, and opened all our gifts from her.   My mom went completely and utterly too far with gifts the kids, and we need to have a serious talk with her to ensure that it never happens again!!  Our intention is to keep gift-giving for various holidays on a moderate scale.  For Sly's birthday so far, we have given him one gift.  For Christmas, about three, plus some little dollar-store stocking stuffers.  I think this is plenty.  And we are, of course, factoring in the expected additional gifts from family members.  But I don't think any grandparent should be giving the kids more than "Santa" gives, and my mom gave many times more.  We had to totally rearrange the kids' bedroom just to fit all the new stuff!  It's a ridiculous situation , and has been causing some tension between Tom and me.  I hate to be so strict about it, but we're going to have to establish a "one gift only" rule for the future, at least for my mother.

After exchanging gifts with my mom and brothers, we went to my aunt's house for a little party with my mom's side of the family.  We loaded the car with the absolutely ridiculous number of gifts from my mom (and we actually had to come back later for a second trip), and I realized that my camera was missing.  We were already rather tired and stressed at this point, and Tom and I had been snipping at each other a lot, and I just kinda lost it.  I got upset and started crying, insisting that we had to find my camera right then.  I was convinced it would be destroyed if we didn't find it.  Either it was lost inside wherethe dog would likely find it first and chew it to bits,  Or it had dropped on the ground somewhere outside, where there was a freezing rain falling.  I searched all over with a flashlight, but couldn't find it.  Resigned, we finally left for the party half an hour later.  Sly stayed up way too late, and ate nothing but junk, and got very riled up by my three brothers.  But luckily, at the end of the night we found my camera!  Stella had been sleeping on it in her carseat.

Tuesday the 25th
On Christmas morning, we pried ourselves out of bed around nine.  We had to rush through present-opening more than we liked, so we would have time to get ready for Mass at eleven.  Sly kept having little tantrums throughout the morning.  He opened one gift from "Santa", which was a drum (in great shape, found by us at a thrift store).  He was excited for a moment, then asked where the drumsticks were.  Uhhh...oops.  We didn't really realize he knew what drumsticks were, and wouldn't have thought he needed them anyways.  Can't kids just play with their hands?  But he flipped out because he wanted drumsticks.  Tom grabbed two wooden spoons from the kitchen, and showed Sly how to use them instead.  Sly was elated and asked to try.  But as Tom handed them over, Sly realized they weren't actually drumsticks, but were spoons, and had a screaming, wailing break down.  Ughh.

 
Mass was spent mostly in the back of the church where Sly was being b-a-d.  It lasted until almost one, and then we had to stop home quickly to pack diapers, presents, etc.  Leaving the house a huge mess, we headed over to my dad's house to exchange gifts with him.  Another load too big to fit in the car.  After that, it was over to my uncle's house for Christmas dinner with my dad's whole side of the family.  Again, Sly ate no real food whatsoever.  And he developed an aggravating new habit of picking up full cups and dumping them on the floor intentionally.  Ooh, did that make us mad!  We punished him so many times on Christmas day, but I think he was too tired and cranky and full of sugar for it to have any effect.  We ended up leaving the party earlier than I've ever left it in my life.  I hated having to "answer" to everyone about why we didn't want to stay.  But it felt so nice to just go home and go to bed.

My dad's side of the family, minus 26 people.

Wednesday the 26th
We let Sly open more presents, which had been mailed to us by various relatives.  I was intending to hit the stores in the morning to score some great discounts, but there was a snowstorm, and the roads didn't seem safe.  I really think this was a grace from God, as it forced us to spend part of a day just staying home as a family.  Tom decided during naptime, though, to drive over my mom's to pick up the rest of the gifts.  What should have been less than an hour round trip took him more than three.  Poor guy.  As soon as he got in the door, it was already time to leave for yet another family party.  Again, Sly was spilling people's drinks on purpose, and making his parents very angry!

Thursday the 27th
I went to see Les Mis with my best friend.  It was the only day we could do it, but Tom was working a half day, so I had to get my dad to come over to watch the kids until he got home.  I was out of the house about four hours total, and Stella screamed her head off and refused to take the bottle the whole time.  Awesome.  Tom's parents came to town for a visit.  We went out to dinner, then came home for yet more present-opening.

*****
I think we managed to pull off a fairly holy Advent this year (not to say that there isn't room for improvement), but we have a long way to go on celebrating Christmas appropriately.  I feel like there are too many family obligations on us right now.  While they should help make it festive and jolly, they instead have felt like they were weighing us down this year.  Christmas was just much more stressful than it should have been.  Each individual activity, party, etc. was enjoyable.  But added up, and in such quick succession, it was just too much.  We barely got a break between activities.  Sly was a total nutcase for about five days, missing naps, going to bed late, and being the crankiest we've ever seen him.  One good I can say about this year is that it was a useful learning experience for us.  Next Christmas, we will just have to put our foot down.  We will insist that the grandparents cut down on the present-giving, and prepare them for the reality of us possibly arriving late or leaving early from parties.  Also, I want to insist that Christmas day itself be "immediate family only" time, at least up until dinner.

Things have calmed down a bit now...except that Tom and his dad are currently constructing built-in bookshelves downstairs so the dining room is a wreck.  Oh, and Stella is sick.  I feel like I've finally officially joined the "parent club" because I've actually been thrown up on now.  Sly has never - literally never - been sick.  So this is all new to us.  In the past 24 hours, poor little Stella has vomited on basically every blanket and sheet in the house, and also the Boppy, the couch, the floor, and a few other things.  The pediatrician's office says she probably just has a virus and to keep breastfeeding as usual, but to monitor her for dehydration.  And luckily, she's still been pretty pleasant and smiley, so I don't think she minds too much.  I'm glad I don't have to drive her to the doctor (yet), because there was another snowfall this morning, and the roads are not looking friendly. Overall, yesterday was a success because I finally had a chance to catch up on many little projects while Sly was entertained by Grammy. 


How was everyone else's Christmas?

Adventures in Migraineland

Twice in the past week and a half, I have gotten migraines.  It's weird because these days, I rarely get them anymore.  I think the cause is the broken sleep I've been getting at night (through to her credit, Stella has been a stellar - ha! terrible pun! - sleeper, compared to a lot of little ones) combined with some serious dehydration.  I've just been really bad about drinking enough, which is especially important now since I'm nursing.  Also, I'm still kinda in the excited post-partum stage of "YES! I can drink coffee again!  I can drink beer! I can drink wine!", and have been choosing too many of these yummy yet dehydrating drinks over good-for-me things like water.


I always know when a migraine is coming, because there are a series of unpleasant pre-migraine symptoms that I go through.  First there's the visual weirdness, where I can't really focus on any one object, and everything in my vision is sorta fading in and out.  Then comes the phase where the part of my brain that deals with formulating thoughts and whatever part deals with actually turning that into language and speech seems to be basically disconnected .  It's like I can think of a concept or idea that I want to say, but when it tries to come out of my mouth, I'm either speaking completely different words or else actual nonsense.  And lastly I move into the stage where consecutively different parts of my body goes numb one at a time - my foot, then my arm, then my mouth, etc.  And then finally it's time for the awesome pounding headache to kick in.

The good news, though, is that as soon as the symptoms start, I know a migraine's coming and can often head it off by taking Excedrin.  Unfortunately, that has aspirin in it, which - who knew? - can cause a breastfed baby to experience random and dangerous hemorrhaging!  According to the internet (which, I agree, is not an expression that should inspire a ton of confidence) after taking aspirin, you should not breastfeed for several hours, then things should be alright.  Newborns don't wait a couple hours.  So this means I've been forced to deplete my precious and already-tiny stores of pumped milk in the freezer, thus prolonging any longed-for baby-free excursions on my part.


The second pre-migraine stage - the brain-not-working one - is my favorite.  When I was going through that craziness last week, we happened to be driving back home in the car.  Tom had never actually been present when I was experiencing my pre-migraine symptoms (in the past, he's only had the joy of coming home from work to a wife in an excellent mood due to a long day of migraine-suffering), so I think he didn't really believe me when I warned him about the whole not being able to speak properly part.  The rest of the ride basically looked like this: Tom driving the car at a very unsafe speed, trying to get me home in time to take some drugs before the headache got worse, me laughing/crying in frustration at my completely failed attempts to say anything I wanted to say to him, and Tom just getting a total kick out of the whole thing.

I tried for a full minute to get out the word "mouth", without being able to clearly wrap my head around the word for mouth, only the concept of it (i.e. "that thing on my face that's supposed to be speaking the right words for me right now, but is totally letting me down").   I eventually had to point to my actual mouth, and ask "what's this called?!!".

Tom then gave me a little test.  He pointed at a sign, asking me to read it.  The sign said "runaway truck ramp."  "Okay, I've got this", I thought, as I confidently said, "trutch!"  Tom burst out laughing, and told me to try that again.  But even the word had already flitted out of my confused little brain.  I had to ask him to repeat the word again just so I could hear it.  He did, only for me to say again, "trutch"....about eight more times!  We finally gave up on that one.  The next sign said exit: "Edgup!".  Tom burst out laughing again, and I finally decided to give up.  We arrived home, and I lay on the couch, resigning all attempts to speak for a while.


This same verbal-impairment stage provided some more amusement today. As it was just starting up, I became convinced that I could fool it.  I was certain that my brain didn't work properly only if I actually tried to speak, but that it would be fine if I was writing.  I typed off an e-mail to my husband, convinced that it made perfect sense.  Several hours later, I came back to the computer and saw his response saying that he wasn't even going to try to understand me because he had no idea what I was trying to say.  Huh?  I looked back to see what I'd sent:

"my mind is sorta fussy now. It's weird, but it's harder to hard than it is to type right now. I'm hoping that this time I can do away again before it too bad actually again. Wow. I can't talk now, but write. Weird now."

Ha!  That's awesome.  And that e-mail was after I'd gone through a few times and edited some of the more obvious mistakes.  The worst part is, though,  that after sending what I believed to be a perfectly coherent e-mail to my husband this morning, I felt confident enough to use the next fifteen minutes to finish writing (and mailing off!) a pile of thank-you cards to Tom's various relatives who have sent baby gifts recently!!  Yes sir, they're going to think very highly of the obviously intelligent woman Tom chose for his wife...

Cognition Study

Sly has another bad cold. For the past two nights, he's slept next to me in bed. Basically, it's the same story as a few weeks ago (see post: First Illness). He keeps coughing, which startles him awake, and then he cries and won't fall back asleep. On Tuesday night, he was up about once every 20 minutes, but was easy to soothe back to sleep. Last night, he woke up only a handful of times, but was very difficult to calm down each time. He just cried and cried. So much so, that even Tom was woken up by it (!!!), and managed to be helpful in getting him back to sleep a few times.

Before Sly was born, I was sure that I would never let my baby sleep in the bed with me. Every baby book or website you read, and all the health professionals you talk to try to pound into your head that it's basically the MOST DANGEROUS THING EVER, and to consider it would be scandalous. Early on, we were really careful about it. Before he was sleeping through the night, we did the whole cradle right-next-to-the-bed deal. When he cried, I nursed or calmed him, then returned him to the cradle. But as I lost more and more sleep, I became less and less able to ensure that I stayed awake long enough to get him back into his own little bed. Soon, I found myself accidentally falling asleep while he was nursing. I guess it was really my fault,since I would just scoop him in next to me, never actually sitting up in the bed. When I would wake up a few hours later, there was my little baby, snuggled in next to me! Safe and sound.

So now when it makes sense to have Sly in the same bed, I don't worry about it. Having him next to me forces me to sleep on my side (I much prefer stomach sleeping). This way, I'm able to cradle him and protect him - either from rolling off the edge of the bed if he's on the outside, or from getting rolled on by Tom if he's on the inside. The ideal situation, of course, is having him in his own room. But when he's sick and waking up constantly, I just can't keep trekking back and forth all night.


Yesterday, Sly participated in a study at the Infant Cognition Lab at Carnegie Mellon University. I had seen a flyer at the library about how they need babies for different studies all the time, so I contacted them. It sounded like a potentially fun experience. I also had this vision of myself being able to tease him about it one day: "Hey son, when you were little, we put you into psychological studies. ha ha ha."

The whole thing was pretty quick and simple. The research student brought us into a little room, and put Velcro mittens onto Sly's hands. I was just supposed to keep him sitting in my lap the whole time, while the experiment was being filmed. The girl put out a tray with some Velcro balls on it. Sly had three minutes wherein he would be observed as he played with the balls. It was pretty amusing, though, because for at least the first two minutes, all he did was look at her and smile, and occasionally crane his head backwards to smile at me. I was silently giggling the whole time. Even though she really wasn't supposed to offer any "help," the researcher eventually pointed out the balls to Sly - I guess so that she could actually get some sort of useful data! Once he got the mittens hooked onto the balls, he just flailed his arms around, causing them to detach from the mittens and roll away. And then he sat there, happily chewing on the mittens. hehehe - I still giggle now, remembering it.

After the "playing" phase, she pulled a dark curtain around us and turned out the lights, making the only real focal point a video screen. She put on a five-minute cartoon of a little baby arm wearing a mitten and touching balls. It was really boring for me, but Sly seemed interested. Well, most of the time, anyways. I really don't know what the whole study was testing, but I do know that the purpose of this second phase was to measure how long he actually paid attention to the video. The research student was watching him in the camera, and clicking a button to record when he looked towards or away from the screen. And then it was over. Maybe ten minutes total.

I mostly signed him up for this because I thought it would be an interesting experience. I've read results and summaries from plenty of cognitive or developmental studies of babies and children, but I've never actually seen one carried out. If they asked us to come back for another one, I would definitely consider it. There was no monetary compensation for it. However, they did give us a free baby t-shirt.


The shirt is sort of dumb. I mean, being a scientist and being a subject in a scientific study are two very different things. But it's still cute, I suppose, and I expect he'll wear it once the weather turns more appropriate for t-shirts.

First Illness

Sly's been a bit sick the past two days. On Saturday when we got home from church, I noticed that he was very warm. So I broke out the thermometer. You know...the special baby one.....the kind that goes in their bums. I've been dreading having to do this. I thought it would be gross and painful, and that he would scream the whole time. Or that he would have to, um, go to the bathroom while I was very much in range. But I have to say, it really was not too bad. I took his temperature it in the middle of changing his diaper, and I don't think he even realized there was a thermometer in there! He ended up having a slight fever, so I gave him some baby Tylenol, and rocked him into a nap.

Saturday night, his fever seemed to be lessening, but he was developing a very stuffy nose and a bad cough. I'm used to hearing his "I'm irritated and about to start crying" cough, which warns us that we'd better pick him up now, or else. So it was so strange to hear him coughing for real the other night. He had a different voice. He didn't sound like my baby at all. It was more like an odd dog bark.

We used the nose-sucker bulb on him, which is always satisfyingly effective, but a much-hated experience for him. I never knew these things existed until I had a baby, but it's such a cleverly simple invention. I mean, Sly has no idea how to blow his nose into a tissue. So the only way to relieve him of some of his snot-abundance is to suck it out of there!

The snot-sucker

Saturday night, I experienced what all moms have warned me about - the sleeplessness of a sick baby. Let me preface this by explaining that Tom and I have been very fortunate in getting a baby who sleeps AWESOMELY through the night. True, his first week home was terrible - his days and nights were "switched" as with most babies. But we also had my mother-in-law staying with us, to share some "shifts" during the night, and help us calm him down. After that first week of life, though, he started learning to sleep through the night. Four-hour stretches at first, then five, and so on. By one month old, he was sleeping for nine straight hours, waking up just to nurse, and then back to sleep for another hour or two! We have been massively spoiled.

So Saturday night was quite an unpleasant shift. My poor little man woke up at least every half hour. All night long. He'd cough and sniffle himself awake repeatedly. It seemed as if he was actually being scared awake, from the violent and sudden reaction each time. And Tom, who never even stirred once, was completely unhelpful. After Sly woke up the second time in twenty minutes, I realized it was going to be a long night. I took him out of his own bedroom where we'd set up a nice humidifier for him, and just brought him into bed with me. Throughout the night, he continued to wake up from his coughing. We soon developed a pattern: He'd wake us up with a deep cough, sounding like a little changeling baby instead of my Sly; I'd grab the saline drops and snot-sucker to quickly perform a nose-clearing job that made him scream even louder (and yet Tom still wouldn't budge from his sleep); then I'd nestle him into the crook of my arm, and rock and shush him back to sleep by my side.

We made it through, though, and I think the worst is past. He still has his cold, but last night went much more smoothly. Today he has his four-month doctor's visit, so we'll see what he says.