We had a major win in the parenting department around these parts last night: the Muffin Man put himself to sleep. We've been working on this particular milestone for the last week or so and it really had not been going well. Up until yesterday our attempts had been utter failures that involved 45 minutes of howling followed by me caving in and nursing the kiddo to sleep. I was absolutely convinced that he would never be able to fall asleep on his own, that we had ruined him by feeding him to get him to go to sleep, and that I would end up having to breast feed him until he was five in order to get some shut eye. As per usual, my neuroses had me so convinced of my parenting failures that I was seriously considering giving up breast feeding just so I could resume taking Klonopin. Thankfully, I don't think I'll have to go to such extremes. It's very possible that we just got lucky last night and that Noah took pity on me, but I'm going to think positive and expect that tonight will go just as well. Because if there's one thing I've learned about this whole parenting thing it's that the only way you make it through each day is by expecting that you will, tonight, get a decent night's sleep. Some days that thought is the only thing that keeps me going. Well, that and several large cups of coffee.
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