Don't get me wrong, we love, love, love Lil' Lamb. He's cute, chubby, and funny. He's also a handful! He's into everything, especially trouble. We spend most of his waking hours chasing after him, protecting him from falling down stairs and sweeping his mouth for choking hazards. Yesterday alone, we swept his mouth for a bead, a lego, a nerf dart tip, and a raw carrot. He has us on constant alert.
He's also a horrible sleeper; one of my worst. I can't seem to figure out his schedule. He does have a definite morning alarm clock that goes off at 7:00 am every day, but I have no idea when he will nap, or for how long. We also can't seem to figure out what time he will go down for the night, and when he finally does settle down, it's never for long. He tosses and turns, kicks and scratches all night long. I've probably had only a handful of good night's rest since before my second trimester with him. I'm too old for this.
I thought I had this baby thing all figured out with Lil' Wingnut. I exclusively breastfed, practiced attachment parenting, took a nap with him every day, and we shared a family bed at night. He was the best little sleeper and always happy and content. I always knew what time he'd take a nap and for how long. His bedtime was very consistent every night and he slept mostly peacefully through it. After six kids I believed I had finally found the magic formula for nurturing a happy baby.
Lil' Lamb is God's little reminder that each and every one of us is a precious and unique human being. There isn't a formula for the perfect baby, child, teenager, or adult. Each one of us needs to be loved for who we are as individuals.
And off he goes. My ramblings will have to stop here for now.