Sleep is still a precious commodity in our house. G. Prefers sleeping in his bouncy chair and stroller to the bassinette.
In an effort to get a handle on this whole baby sleep thing, here are some books I have been reading (and not necessarily retained):
The Baby Whisperer (see the day in chunks of Eating, Activity, Sleep, You, aka EASY. When the baby cries, go and sit with him, but don't pick him up). The Sears Baby Sleep Book (Avoid letting your baby develop abandonment issues. Don't let him cry. Sleep with him or near him. No real info on schedules) Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child (let your baby cry for bouts until he learns to fall asleep. Be firm, not rigid with nap schedules. Babies who sleep well, learn well and are happier babies)
The latest book says that sleep training doesn't really take effect for another month or so, because babies don't start to produce melatonin until that age. I told this to Chris last night, and announced that most of the moms I have met lately recommend "The No Cry Sleep Soloution" , which I have on reserve at the library.
"Um. Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you should read fiction."
Oh yeah. Novels. I forgot about that. I think I have become a bit deranged lately from all this baby stuff which is lovelylovelylovely, but it does funny things to your sense of self.
Example: I was feeling weird about going out on my own sans baby when I realised that I had not totally reconciled that tension between my old and new identities. For a year, almost, I have been identifying myself as pregnant or a mom. Without a baby in my reach, I am just an average woman with a few extra pounds on her. Awful thought, I know. I am embarassed to think that way.
Yesterday I ran into a local musician I know who had a baby in January. She goes out to rock shows 3 nights a week. There is a balance to be had. I am just not quite there, yet.