Zane’s back to his sneaky, short sleep stage again. It’s mostly not a problem except for the early morning wake-up. Faith usually goes to bed by one and I usually wake up at four, so all Zane has to do is sleep through that period and everyone is happy.
So. Simple. A. Baby. Can. Do. It.
That doesn’t make a very good acronym, but somewhere lurking in the letters you’ll find SAD, as in “Faith sure is SAD to have to wake up at 3:45am when baby could have waited another quarter hour for DAD.” I will feel guilt and stay home a bit longer so she can sleep while the incredible googly, crawly thing is out of range of hearing.
Yesterday I didn’t head to work until almost 8am, which is really LATE (the day’s half over!). A few of us from work headed down to Boston for a conference, which meant that I didn’t get back home until 8pm, a full 12 hours without baby! Faith had already put him to bed and my day felt a little less complete without an afternoon and evening of baby interaction.
Which brings us to the topic of baby separation.
An event approaches where one of us is going somewhere and the question of what the other person does and where the baby goes comes up. “I’ll take him with me.” “Oh, that’s ok, you go ahead and have some baby-free time and I’ll take care of him.” “Well, maybe you should come WITH me too?” “No, that’s ok. You enjoy yourself, we’ll be fine.” It’s like a staring contest where we each are afraid to blink lest the baby not be there afterward.
A while back I asked for a day or two to myself, to work on long neglected projects, but then when the reality of being sans baby hit I did a quick back-pedal, “Oh, no, I meant an hour or two in the evening. That’s all!”