Mom's the Word: The Magic of the Third Month

Paul is now 3(+) months old, and we still love him. {sigh of relief because I know you all were SO worried about that} He is so mellow and so easy that it almost makes us think we're okay with having another baby. Almost. If I could get a guarantee that baby (and pregnancy) #2 would be as smooth sailing as this, we'd reproduce again in a heartbeat. (Sorry if that's TMI...) As I will *never* get a guarantee like that, we'll bide our time. :)

Anyway, yes, back to the topic at hand: the magic of the three month marker. Even though I have the best baby (and I will never {quote me on that and get after me if I do} complain about my beautiful boy doing normal baby things like drooling, having blow-out diapers, and crying), nearly every mom I've talked to has told me, "It gets easier at 3 months." Some have even added, "I don't know why exactly, but it's easier after 12 weeks!"

At 10 weeks, I tried to imagine how this baby could get easier. He's happy. He only fusses when he's tired or hungry (as a general rule). He smiles. He laughs. He sleeps SO well: through the night, from 9 PM until at least 5 AM, sometimes even until 8 AM!

At least, he did.

Then Christmas Break happened.

One of the beautiful benefits (which are sometimes few and far between) of having a husband who is a school teacher are these crazy-great breaks, such as two full weeks off around Christmas. We loved having him home. We went on adventures, we played, we stayed up late, we slept in.

We sacrificed baby's wonderfully perfect-for-us sleeping schedule.

In the past week, we've re-established a schedule (hooray for schedules!). This new schedule involves Paul waking up at 4 AM. Honestly, I don't mind waking up at 4 AM to do the mom thing. Hearing my baby coo at me at 4 AM is okay in my book. The problem comes with waking up (again) at 8 AM when Paul is ready to be awake for the day.

I can't do it. 

After being up at 4 AM and going back to bed, my limbs are like lead. My brain is like yucky day-old oatmeal. My eyes feel like sandbags.

So, since I haven't yet figured out how to train Paul to sleep just another hour before waking up (since I and my body are totally 100% okay with waking up for the day at 5 AM), I am adjusting my schedule to make waking up for the day at 4 AM a regular thing.

I'm thinking this is a blessing in disguise, coming under the cover of night. I'm finally getting motivated (by the extra poundage I re-gained thanks to holiday treats) to commit to exercising. Which I have never done. Ever. I've exercised. As part of a class, sure. On a random whim when I had time, definitely. But never regularly, on my own, motivated sheerly by my own willpower (and the post-baby dough belly).

So, this is it. 4 AM (ish) and I are going to be workout buddies.