In Anna’s 4-month update I compared a baby sleep regression to spring weather. Since I am living through both barbaric phases right now, I keep revisiting the comparison.
February was mild, warm, and felt like spring. In February I ordered my girls Easter outfits — both sleeveless and light. But March has been windy, cold, and snowy. In a word, disappointing. Where is spring? Every time I ask that question, I remind myself, “It’s March. March is always like this. I’m only mad at March because of those warm days in February.”
Similarly, when Anna was two months old, she settled into a night sleep pattern of waking once, and occasionally even sleeping from 10 p.m. all the way to 7 a.m., which counts as sleeping through the night.
Baby sleep is not linear. One good night does not mean the next night will be better or even the same. One good night means we had a good night. Period. It might snow tomorrow, and your baby might decide to remind you who’s boss. And all babies know that the best time to do that is between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.
A list of Anna’s wake ups one night:
In my bedroom there is a sound machine, blackout curtains, and three different baby beds. Anna isn’t interested in any of them. There is also at least $200 worth of swaddles and sleep suits we’ve either borrowed or bought. They all have names that include words like “miracle” or “magic.”
But to call those names over-promises is an understatement. Those names are reckless at best, manipulative at worst. Especially when you consider that the target audience is exhausted and desperate.
It’s not as catchy, but “Miracle blanket for some babies, maybe not yours” would be much more accurate. Or “Merlin Magic Sleep Suit. We can guarantee your baby will look hilarious! You might not get sleep but you’ll definitely get a good laugh!”
We are to get 18 inches of snow tomorrow, and another storm on Sunday. I love snow, I mean I really really love snow, so I’m not complaining. Winter here was compressed into the past three weeks, but people are acting like there has been a major storm every 3-4 days. My bulbs, however, are about 3 inches above ground, as those warm days in February convinced them it was time to appear.
When I practice the winter storm tradition of hot chocolate, I’ll think of you. Too bad she is too young for it. There is something very soothing and relaxing about warm chocolate and heavy cream.
That said, my grandmother’s cure for a fussy baby, including teething babies, was to rub whiskey on their gums. When we had colds, we were given a warm drink comprised of whiskey, honey, and lemon. When physicians ask me if I want anesthesia for something, I always say, my philosophy is knock me out and wake me out when it is over. I must have inherited that view from my grandmother, as her view must have been knock us both out, and don’t wake me up before the baby wakes up.
Per the news, it is a hot chocolate day for you too.