I’m here to tell you the four month wakeful is real. It is alive and kicking and it has taken up residence in our little home. And mostly we would prefer it wouldn’t really because we like our home sleepy and we liked it better when a certain little boy would soothe himself to sleep and took proper naps and swings weren’t required and you didn’t have to sit by its side with your own eyes closed to trick a baby into thinking the world wasn’t going on without him.
For now, we really try to not let Wes “cry it out”, day or night. This probably has less to do with philosophy and more to do with the fact that we just can’t stand the negative sounds Wes is capable of producing. So yes, of late right as we ourselves are drifting off to sleep, we’re getting out of bed and hanging out with Wes for an hour near midnight, and waking some time in the middle of the night to pacify, and up at 5 am because somebody thinks that’s a perfectly acceptable time at which to begin the day.
And we’re parading all over the house, moving quickly from playmat to blanket to chair to arms, from the nursery to the living room to the kitchen to the office. There’s so much to see, he must think, so much to discover. This, if we can find it in ourselves to see it as he sees it, must be the upside of the wakeful.
I tried to keep that in my heart so that when last night I returned from my first real day back at work to discover Wes awake a mere half hour after falling asleep, supposedly, for the night and his daddy thoroughly cooked from the experience of the evening, I would still have it in me to entertain him for a while — with the happiest of results — and later, after an hour of trying to get him back to sleep, to whisper in his ear: “you are right; it is a wonderful world but you must sleep now and rest so that we can laugh again tomorrow and the day after that and all the days of our lives.”