To Paul: this is how you spent the day you turned 4 months old.
You sleep downstairs, in a pack-and-play in the TV room; we moved you out of ours about a week ago to begin sleep training, and you’ll be rooming with Annie as soon as your nightly schedules align. I hear you crying at 3:20 am, but we’re on The Program, so I just watch you squirm on the baby monitor until you fall asleep again at 3:40. We repeat the drill from 5-5:20. If you’d cried for a few minutes longer, I would have gone down to reassure you that you are not alone in the world, but it’s really better for everyone if you can find your own way back to sleep. Your ability to do this is developing rapidly. Your parents are almost normal, rested human beings again.
At 6:15, almost 10 hours after you went to bed, you are up for the day. We cuddle up in bed for your breakfast as the sun rises. You kick and coo as I read you snatches of the paper; then I take you down to Dad while I get myself together. The rest of the family eats breakfast while you hang out in your pillow throne. Annie and I leave for school/work, and Dad puts you down at 8:15, a little early for your first nap. An hour later, you’re up and eating, and then you head to the pediatrician with Dad for your 4-month well visit. You weigh in at 16.5 pounds. Your head remains in the 95th percentile.
Our usual doctor is out, so Dad has a long conversation with the nurse practitioner while you sit on him and peace out. You handle all your poking and prodding well, but your mood is beginning to fray by the time the nurse shows up with the shots. Oy. You do not approve of being stuck with needles. Your Dad describes your reaction as “absolutely the worst scream I’ve ever heard him make.” Much jiggling later, you’re falling asleep in the carseat, headed home to Charly for an overdue nap while Dad dashes off to work.
You have a rough day with Charly, probably due to shots and short naps. Standing in your bouncer for the first time distracts you from your rage, and you manage a decent afternoon nap.
Dad and Annie come home a few minutes after 5 to general chaos. Sous freaks out; Dad rushes around to make dinner while toting Annie, who refuses to be put down; Charly holds you and feeds Sous dinner. At 5:30, you fall instantly asleep for your scheduled nap. You wake after 45 minutes but stay in bed for another 15 while Dad finishes Annie’s bath. (I am away all evening at a work event.) On the way down to rescue you from bassinet-prison, Annie misses the last step on the stairs, bonks her head, and starts screaming. You, too, are screaming. Dad rescues you both. He gives you a small bottle while Annie sits on the couch with you and tries making video calls.
Annie goes to bed at 7, and you have Dad all to yourself. The two of you hang out on our bed, and you work on your furious kicks. When you’re too cranky to stay awake any longer, Dad puts you to bed with The Belly Button Book and a song. It’s 8:20.
Fifteen minutes later, I get home and scoop you back up. You’re more than half-asleep and all instincts, but you know what to do, and drink until your belly is taut. I lay you back down and tiptoe out. 9pm.