Couch Bound

For the past month or more, Mason's been waking up approximately every ninety minutes throughout the night. It seems that he does this no matter when (or if) he naps, what he eats, or how many times he poops. He wakes whether he takes a long bath or a short bath, whether I read the Berenstain Bears or Dr. Seuss, and whether I put him to bed at six or seven or eight o'clock. He wakes if he's sleeping in his crib, in our bed, or out on the front lawn. I've started keeping a log of everything we do during the day to see if I can find a pattern between how the day goes and how the night goes. So far - nothing. The kid just can't sleep.

Last night, Mase went to sleep at eight after an hour of wrestling, begging, and pleading. He woke at ten and again somewhere around midnight, when I brought him into bed with me. At one thirty, when I still couldn't get the little bugger to sleep, I woke up George in tears and, out of complete frustration and exhaustion, retreated to the couch. I fell right asleep and the next thing I knew, it was seven forty-five. Six straight hours. Six beautiful, amazing hours of sleep in a row.

The kicker? Mason slept... well, like a baby. I wasn't the only one who slept six hours in a row. Mase did too. He fell asleep as soon as George and I traded places, and apparently didn't bat an eye 'til morning. We'll see what happens tonight, but it could be that this whole time, the problem was me. Maybe I'm so much fun to be around that the reason he wakes up at three in the morning (and one and five and six) is just so that he and I can hang out. At least, that's what I'll keep telling myself. Either way, Mommy's sleeping on the couch again tonight.