The hazards of late-night blogging: I forget what I really wanted to write about, and end up spouting tripe about "celebrity" skanks.
What the Midnight Editor forgot yesterday is the joys of learning to sleep through the night; me, that is, re-learning this important skill. You see, we finally have the baby sleeping in her crib in her own room. She spent most of the first three and a half months with us, for ease of nighttime feedings and so on. There are equal factions who would tell me that I'm some sort of socialist pathological weirdo for having the baby in our room, inhibiting her sense of independence and blah blah blah OR that I'm banishing my tender impressionable child to a cell down the hall, inhibiting attachment and bonding and thus condemning her to a future as a socialist pathological weirdo blah blah blah. I don't care who's right; I care that my husband gets enough sleep to function at work, especially as he is the lone paycheck right now.
But I'm having a hard time sleeping without the baby close by. There's something to be said for the attachment parenting/shared sleep philosophy. Mainly, though, I'm taking twice as long to fall asleep (who'd have thought that would be a problem?) because I'm in a constant state of hyperalert vigilance. Every time I wake up -- at the slightest twitch -- it takes me half an hour to reassure my deepest primordial brain that my daughter isn't about to get stomped on by a mammoth.
On the plus side, I have an added incentive to keep both our bedrooms free of clutter, so I don't break my neck on the way to a midnight snack. And now that the baby is actually using the crib, I feel more justified in having spent the money on the cutesy John Lennon design linens.