the one where I sleep on the couch
so…I slept on the couch last night. No, I wasn’t in the dog house. I just love my wife. And, no, I don’t snore. Really. (pay no attention to what my wife might say on the subject)
Sammy has been having a bitch of a time sleeping for the last few weeks. It’s advanced from the up-once-a-night-for-a-bottle bitch of a time to a full-blown night-terrorish bitch of a time.
As much as I know that it’s not the best thing to and that it might make things harder for us in the long run, we usually bring him downstairs, sooner than later, and put him in the swing. He likes the swing, and the swing likes him — he stops crying…for the most part.
When I say “we” I mean Erika. Until last night.
Sammy woke up at 10:30 pm, and was only up for 15 minutes.
Sammy woke up at 11:00 pm, and was up for 10 more minutes.
I fell alseep.
Sammy woke up at 11:45 pm.
We went downstairs.
Erika hasn’t been sleeping well, and since I don’t have work on Wednesdays I figured I would just sleep downstairs with Sammy instead of having him up every hour, and having me up every hour — well, at some point I would manage to sleep through the cries and then Erika would need to get up…and that’s no good.
Sammy managed to sleep from 12:15am until 7am, with a brief break for a bottle. I managed to catch a late-night showing of Animal House and the 87th showing of Pink Floyd’s Pulse on WGBH.
I think we both made out in that deal.