Check check, one, two, ssssyphilis

This thing on?

Hoooo doggy it's been cray-cray around these parts. I apologize for the lack of updates. I have a few entries in the queue, but actually sitting down and typing words and uploading photos is a comparible to writing a dissertation or running a marathon right now.

So here's a brief rundown of what's going on in life:

- Day job. Short staffed this week so I am literally buried. I can't see the surface of my desk or the light at the end of the tunnel. Send help and a reliable temp.

- Side job. Real writing takes a lot longer than this blogging shiz.

- Sleep issues. Still going strong with those. But guys, one day last week Des actually slept through the night until 6:45am! And there was a string of restful nights with no peeps and a reasonable waking hour! I would wake up each morning in another realm of reality. Colors were brighter, I could think and speak in full sentences, the world was at my fingertips! Unfortunately that is all a distant memory. With a single cough in his crib, I knew The Cold That Never Ends was back for another round. And now we are back in the zombie zone. Des is usually up around 11pm until 1 or 2am, and then bright and early at 5-5:30am (or earlier if he's feeling especially cruel).

This zombie is lucky he's cute.


Stick with me. I'll be back in full effect soon, hopefully well-rested and incredibly amusing.

And There It Is

I knew it was coming. I dreaded the day. And now it's here. Karmic retribution for speaking publicly about Desmond's amazing ability to sleep. It's been 2+ weeks of zombie hell with no end in sight.

It started off as waking up earlier than usual. His typical 6am rise went to 5:45, then 5:30 (oh how I long for those days), 5... 4:45... 4:30. There were a couple mornings of 3:45 and even a 2am morning, just for shits 'n giggles. Up for the day! Let's play! And cry and babble and whine, and do ANYTHING but SLEEP.

We tried everything to get him to go back down. Rocking vs. soothing in the crib, milk vs. no bottle at all, crying it out vs. taking him in our bed. White noise, soft music, TV. Nothing. Worked. When he was up, he was up. And so were we.

Then he got yet another cold. I've lost count of how many colds he has had this winter. He kicks one and then another strain creeps up in a matter of days. The congestion makes it tough for him to be laying down for long periods. So his pattern lately is to go down at his usual time of 6:30pm, sleep soundly until 11:15pm, and then wake up like there was an alarm blasting in his crib. He'll fall asleep just fine in my arms, but if I put him down, no matter if he's awake or asleep or drowsy, he screams bloody murder.

I finally decided to just lay down and hold that heavy kid in our bed. And that's where he's been staying from 11:30 until the morning the past few days. Tony and I will pass him back and forth to try to give the other some rest. He wakes up every hour or so, giving us a little time to catch some z's. But restful, it is not.

Naps? Who knows. He could go down just fine, he could fight it with all his might. In those cases, it's usually a complete meltdown for all involved and then this:


I'm currently reading a book on this topic, because lord knows we're doing a hundred things wrong through this process. But I can't keep my eyes open long enough to get through a whole chapter.

I don't think we'll start any of the sleep training techniques until he's over this yucky cold. We're not totally heartless. But the mood around the house has been a little frosty. Tony and I are either totally silent or speaking in monosyllabic phrases. We're cordial to eachother on a good day. Sleep deprivation is a cruel mistress.

Goodnight everyone. Sigh...