Sleeping Like a Baby

Asher is now almost three months old.  We started putting him to bed at a regular time several weeks ago and at this point his patterns for going to sleep, staying asleep, and periods of sensitivity to noise have mostly regularized... or so I thought.  On Friday, our friend Becca was in town.  We hadn't seen her for months and we wouldn't get to see her again until who knows when.  We got to see her for just a little bit earlier in the evening and show Asher off (He managed to be cute and smile even though he was tired--he's a tough kid.), but she was also throwing a party that started right when Asher normally goes to sleep.  Unfortunately, we couldn't find someone who could come to our house and stay with him while we went out, but our friends Mel and Chad offered to let us put him to bed at their house so that we could go.  I was sure it was a bad idea: Asher's whole night would certainly be messed up because we would have to move him to his own bed during a time when he is easily disturbed by just having someone sneak into the room to go to bed (Ah, to live in a TWO bedroom apartment... :) ).  I also tend to be a little uptight about things that might mess up Asher's nighttime sleeping schedule--you never know if throwing him off for a night might cause the universe to implode.  But, we really wanted to go to the party, so we did it anyway--I just tried not to think about how I was sure that I'd spend more time than normal up with Asher in the middle of the night.  

The party was great, but after a long, rousing game of Taboo (during which I managed to get nine cards in one turn, bwa, ha, ha), I decided that we had better go because if we stayed any longer we were sure to overly inconvenience our very generous babysitters, who usually go to bed pretty early.   We got to their house at about 10:40, and I picked Asher up.  He stretched for a moment and then settled sleepily into my shoulder.  I carried him home and put him in his crib, and after another minute's stretching, his body relaxed.  He was still asleep.  I snuck out and closed the door.  I was positive that in a minute or two he would start crying.  There was no way that all of that hadn't messed up his sleep.  However, after several minutes, it appeared that I was wrong.  He was totally out.  Hugh and I went to bed and Asher eventually woke up at his two normal times to eat.  Behold Asher!! The Wonder Sleeper!!

Or so I thought...

Last night, Hugh went to the John Mayer concert in Salt Lake.  This meant that I had to put Asher to bed by myself.  When we put Asher down, we let him cry for fifteen minutes before picking him up.  We have to pick him up once about half of the time.  Now and again we have to pick him up twice, and a few times we've had to go in three times, but never more than that.  Yesterday, the whole day went pretty normally, including putting him down, so when I closed the door after having picked him up after his first fifteen minutes, I thought that I was done for the night. 

(His 1:00 AM feeding is technically in the "morning," right?) 

 Unfortunately, he kept crying, so I had to go in a second time... and a third time.... and a fourth time.  When I went in the fifth time, I tried feeding him but he didn't want to eat.  I tried burping him: nothing.  His diaper was only slightly wet, but I changed it anyway.  I even took his temperature--just in case--but he was normal.  My first-time-mother-paranoia started to kick in and I thought of calling the doctor, but then I realized that I would sound pretty dumb when the nurse picked up and all I would have to say was that my baby didn't want to go to sleep, so I decided against it.  After all of his attempts to drift off, Asher wasn't anywhere near sleepy (exhausted, yes; sleepy, no). Rather, he was all worked up.  So, I gave up and decided that for that one night, it just wasn't going to work out.  I gave him a pacifier, took him outside, 

and started walking.  He was asleep in about five minutes.  I went back home and put Asher in his bed.  He was fine for the rest of the night, but doesn't it just figure that the worst night yet for going to sleep would be the night that Hugh was gone until an unsaintly hour, leaving me all alone--a state in which I am much more prone to trepidation?

Oh well.  I guess now I know that Asher isn't QUITE as predictable as I thought.  In any case, he went to sleep just fine tonight.  (Of course he did--Hugh is home.)  I guess I'll just take it one night at a time.