Edith woke up squalling at 12:30am last night and did not stop. I checked her ears (to see if she was cold) and her diaper (to see if she’d pooped) and then let her go, and it must have been intermittent because I kept falling back asleep, but when I finally looked at the clock again, to see if it had been 15 minutes, it was 2:00am. So I caved and gave her some milk and put her in bed with me.
It was dance dance revolution happy play Edith fun time all night long, until I finally gave up and got up at 7. I guess we both napped periodically in amongst all that. I took some turns pinning her to the mattress with my arms (after which I had dreams that a stranger was holding my hand and jerking it all around as I slept on a bus) and just letting her frolic (after which I had dreams that I had adopted a guinea pig who tap-danced on my head all night). Then when she did sleep deeply and hold still for a bit, I jerked awake in a panic, fearing I had smothered her.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s because it’s colder, and she’s feeling her oats? I was completely zonked today, and this was terrible timing because it was my last work day before taking off for two weeks and I had a lot to get done. She was somehow not tired at all despite reenacting “The Red Shoes” all night long.
Babies need to sleep eventually, right? I had just been feeling like I was back to being a human being, sleep-wise, and now this. It’s like a minor COVID in my bedroom — one step forward, three steps back.