Choo Choo

It was a lovely morning. Sawyer woke up at 6:45 a.m. Nursed and ate his cereal. Played (see photo). Got tired. I put him down at 9 a.m. with a full warm bottle which he polished off and when I returned to check on him at 9:15 he was out cold. He had found his own pacifier and was sucking on that. I took the bottle, shut off the light and tip toed off to the computer. Everything was going exactly as planned. The sitter and I have been working hard to coordinate schedules and to get Sawyer to start taking longer, better naps twice a day. So far in his short life he has been a pretty terrible napper. I am lucky to get 45 minutes out of him twice a day. Meanwhile, all the other babies at daycare take two, two-hour naps. It would be fine with me if Sawyer took short naps and then was a happy camper. But he seems to be living in a constant state of sleep deprivation as evidenced by his recent increased crankiness during waking hours. So I am going Nazi on him. We have already been very strict about the 7 pm-7 am sleep time at night. Now I am setting a strict nap schedule and STICKING TO IT. I shout that over his cries from downstairs. The major problem is that he wakes up and gets himself into a bind that he can't escape without help. When he was learning to crawl and stuck in reverse he would back his legs between the slats of the crib and then wail. Now that he's pulling up he gets into standing or kneeling position and then can't get down. That's what he's done right now. At 9:45 a.m. he woke up. Got stuck. Cried. I went in there, made sure his pacifier was within reach and told him that he needed to figure out how to get down by himself. He screamed TORTURE as I walked out the door. Now, I could have just put him down on his back and stuck the pacifier in his mouth and he would have gone right back to sleep like we've done a hundred times. But then we would be doing that a hundred more times, right? Twenty minutes later, he is still stuck and still crying. Five more minutes go by and I can't take it anymore. I will show him how to get down. Oh, he looks so pathetic, hanging there. Clinging for dear life. Hiccuping between cries. I sit him down. I put the pacifier in his mouth. I give him his blankie with the stuffed animal head. He tilts over, hiccuping, and passes out. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I am going to be a Nazi.