I just brewed my second cup. I am tired. Cause I have a manipulator. She's to die for. You could eat her. Case and point.
2:30 and 5 in the morning. She was awake. Crying. I let her cry. For what felt like an eternity last night. Finally I gave in. Fed her. Prayed for her to sleep until 7. Not so much. 5. Another bottle.
I know better. I do. I know that she doesn't need to eat in the middle of the night. I would call it an ear infection. Only I know better. I would call it teething. But I know better. I would call it a growth spurt. I may still call it that. But most likely, it's manipulation. She likes to eat in the middle of the night. I understand that. I would like it too. Someone brings me some peanut butter m&m's at 3am, I'll eat them.
It has to stop. She's old enough. More than old enough. Her brother slept from 7-7 at 12 weeks. 11 months. She's 11 months. In my defense it hasn't always been this way, just the last few weeks. And I am sucker for her. And I want to savor every last ounce of her baby-ness. And I don't want her to turn one. So I am a sucker.
It has to stop. We need to sleep more than four hours at a time. Need to. Tonight will not be that night. Tonight. She cries. I gave it 20 minutes last night which terrifies me for tonight.
So Mamas. I need a pep talk. I need someone to remind me it's not torture. I need someone to remind me how good sleep is. And I need someone to come take my place tonight. Cause I'm a sucker for her.
Ready, set, go.