I am obsessed with my daughter’s sleep schedule. It’s her own fault – she’s been a pretty good sleeper since Day 1. And so, anything less than an 11-hour stretch at night, I’m ready to take notes and start a sleep log and talk to the doctor at her next appointment.
I’ve started a sleep log for my 23-month old.
Her dad was away for 2 weeks in March-April, and then we went on vacation for a week in April (*sigh* Brasil), and it seems like things just haven’t been right with her nighttime sleep.
And, it’s been about a month. And, she’s not even teething. I can’t handle it.
Yes, we’ve been spoiled rotten when it comes to her sleep, and I like it that way. When her sleep gets out of whack, I feel like it’s no different from actual bad behavior like biting or hitting — it’s just unacceptable. (more…)
Where else would I start? I’m talking about the beginning of motherhood – the day my daughter was born is the date I’m going to use for myself. Certainly, many people would say a woman becomes a mother from the moment she conceives for the very first time, and I’m not going to refute or debate that.
I definitely bonded with my baby while she was in my belly, but in the interest of keeping things simple, I began this thing called motherhood on June 7, 2009, just about 22-months ago.
Our daughter arrived on her due date – right on time. I was working from home that week on account of it being hot and humid and not being able to rely on the good graces or [un]common courtesy of Metro riders in Washington, DC to give up their seat to a VERY pregnant lady. In addition to the hazards of commuting, the hazards of sitting at my desk had just gotten to be too much and so it made sense to really take it easy at Week 40. (more…)