During the night, a voice cuts through sleep and the dark like an axe through a sweet, innocent chipmunk.

WAAAAAA!!!!!

Now, we haven't been consistently eliminating that last 3 a.m. bottle the way I'd planned, but hey, there's been monster teeth coming through, and I've been away a lot the last month.  The point is, I'm alright with doing the sleepy shuffle out to the kitchen to warm a pre-made bottle. I like the cozy 5 minutes of cuddling with a half asleep bubs. I enjoy the way he smells, and the absolute quiet of the witching hour.

I'm NOT alright with being hauled out of my bed three times a night.  I don't enjoy anything about that.  This morning, 4:45 a.m. found Hubs and I lying on our sides, facing each other, my left hand clapped over his exposed up-turned ear, and his right hand clapped over mine.  Presley had been fed, cuddled, changed, patted and crooned to, and we were NOT getting up for him a fourth time.

And that is how I learned that our darling little monster can whinge for an hour straight.

I'm not sure if we are doing this right, forcing Presley to stay in bed until we are ready to attempt the morning. I don't want to neglect him, but at the same time, I don't want him running roughshod over our lives.  Especially now that he is approaching a year old and should theoretically be sleeping through! I am afraid that if 5 a.m. becomes the norm, then 4 a.m. will be the crappy wake up hour that he moves on to from there.  Sweet Jesus, will I ever sleep normally again?

I left all my parenting books when I moved overseas, and for now, the two of us are our own island nation, making this up as we go along.

Tonight, Hubbalicious brought earplugs home from work.  Hooray.