21 November 2008


"Cow. Cow. Cow! Cow! COW!"

That was what I woke up to this morning at 6:15 a.m. The Wombat, looking for the small brown plastic Playmobil cow he has taken to bed with him for the past two weeks.

The Wombat sleeps pretty well now. The 6:15 wake-up this morning was after going to bed last night at 7:15 p.m. 11 hours is pretty fantastic for a boy two weeks away from turning two.

It wasn't always this way. A few months ago in March we had to stage a Sleep Intervention. The Monkey and I went to my parents' house for the weekend, sleeping there for two nights while The Scientist took over The Wombat's bedtime and night waking. I literally couldn't stand to hear him crying - it invoked such a strong response that it was like I was having a mini panic attack, heart and pulse pounding.

The night waking was the worst. It used to be that he'd sleep just until 11 or midnight...long enough for us to fall asleep and wake up feeling hung over. Then it was up and down; our bed, his bed until we maybe got another few hours in from 3-6. I'm not really sure how we functioned so long on such broken sleep, but I do know it took me months to recover from it even after he slept through the night (mostly).

This morning I took him upstairs with me to snuggle our bed for a while before we had to get up for the day (The Scientist had slept on the spare bed because of the fiendish cold/sinus infection we both have - his is worse). After dozing for a while he decided it was time to get up and told me so emphatically, "Up Mama. Up! Go DOWNstairs!" but was willing to stay and play for a few minutes. These mornings are some of the sweetest moments with The Wombat and I hope I always remember them.


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