This morning, Exton woke up at 3 a.m. Well, I'm not sure if he was exactly awake. Is it possible to sleep-play? I'm not sure if his eyes were fully open because mine were not. I have no idea what he was doing. Having a growth spurt? Exercising his lungs? Trying to walk?
Since we are still co-sleeping (and night-nursing! I thought we might be ready to start tapering that off, but he was sick for two weeks earlier this month, and I feel like the little guy needs fattening up; that means, if he's hungry at 12:30, 3:30 and 5:30.. I'm going to feed him), and he and I are on one side of the bed, with Patrick and Franny on the other (though the other night that cat was infiltrating our side), I get the privilege of him pouncing on me, talking to me, climbing all over me.
It sounds cute. It is cute. Well... slightly less cute at 3 o'clock in the morning.
I fed him. I got up and walked around the house with him. I cuddled him in the chair in his room. He continued to babble, point at my nose, and mostly be in a good mood. Finally I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, so I took him back to bed, where we woke up Patrick. I felt bad, because he had to get up early to go to training in West Hollywood today, but I was sooo sleepy. And the baby was not. Patrick took him out to the chair in his room, and returned in a little while with him asleep. I mean, CONKED OUT. I don't know how he does that; I can get him to sleep during the day for naps, but at night he sometimes gets all fidgety with me. I used to be good at the nighttime bedtime routine, but I think Ex can sense when I'm sleepier than he is, and it is at those times he decides he wants to play.
Finally we all slept until 6, when Patrick had to leave (I'm sure he got up before then to get ready but I totally slept through that), and then at 6:30, I got up to start getting ready for work and to take Ex to daycare.
It was kind of fun getting him ready for daycare - we sang songs and I kept calling him things like "party animal," "playboy," and "the most interesting man in the world!" He liked all that, and laughed a lot (not so much while I was cleaning his little nose). He looked so cute in his little outfit this morning. He woke up with great hair. I, on the other hand, did not. I tried brushing it with a wet brush and slapping some product in it, but I know the back of my head is totally jacked up. Oh, well, I can't do anything about it. There are women with babies at my work who show up looking glamorous and beautiful, fully coiffed and made up, but I'm happy to be clean, relatively wrinkle free, and moisturized. It's enough.
Everything took longer this morning than I expected it to, even nursing him before we left - we got out the door 15 minutes late, me with my arms full of baby, car seat, breast pump, and his lunch bag with his bottles and food in it for the day.
I dropped him off at daycare one day last week, too. Since Patrick usually does it, I'm not as good at the "goodbye" routine as he is... Ex cried when I left then, and he cried when I left today. Patrick said he doesn't usually do that. Maybe separation anxiety only works with me? I didn't know what to do... walking out on a crying baby seems mean, but his teacher told me not to prolong it. I kissed him and left. I did hear him stop when I was out in the hall putting on my shoes, so that's good, I guess, but I felt awful.
Yesterday, knowing I had to take him to daycare, I asked for an hour off this morning from work because of the possibility of being late (though, if we had gotten up at 5:30 like we normally do, and I'd left for the daycare at 6:15, we conceivable could've made it on time); I forgot that traffic is totally different at 7:30 than it is at 6:30, so I was 15 minutes late. I got here right on time for the taco truck... I got a breakfast burrito before heading upstairs.
I do have to say, the only good part about being the one to drop him off at daycare is, I get to be the one to pick him up. I can't wait to see that little face later today, a whole hour and a half earlier than usual.