Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Happy New Year!

One of our writers reminded me that yesterday was Rosh Hashanah, and, although I'm not Jewish and know very little of the religion or culture, I feel like I am in desperate need of a new year and have decided to participate in the holiday. It began at sundown yesterday as I was, fittingly, painting my new apartment. The fresh paint covering the drab, well-worn walls of an apartment that is turning out to be more than I bargained for (lots of problems I hadn't seen until now: a missing lever on the toilet, broken hot water handle in the kitchen, fridge covered in black mold) was somewhat reassuring. I'm definitely ready for a fresh start.

Today was my going-away lunch at UTW, and it was nice to know my time here has been appreciated and I will actually be missed. Even K went out of his way to tell me, first privately and then publicly, that both he and the paper are indebted to me in numerous ways for my passion and service over the past two and a half years. His gratitude is much appreciated, and while part of me wished he'd been more vocal about it earlier, another part is glad he waited for my departure to tell me what I mean to him. I think, had I heard it sooner, I would have stayed and not taken this new opportunity. And now, it's more about that than anything else. Before, it was about anger and about my need to feel like my work matters. Now that I know it does, I think it's more about needing to expand my horizons. K offered an open invitation back to the paper, should my future endeavors not work out, and I don't think that option is totally out of the question. The thought has crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, spending the next few years working at different publications could be a learning experience that I can bring back here in the future. I do care deeply and am very passionate about UTW and its place in Tulsa's media market. I love the business of alt weeklies and would like to find my way back to one of them some day.

I still think, though, that moving on is the right decision right now. I think Katie still has the spark that has sort of fizzled out in me. I think she'll lead the paper in a good direction for as long as she's here, and I think it'll be better for her contribution. And really, it deserves that. It deserves someone who's ferociously driven to make it a better paper. My excitement over the last year has waned to indifference, and UTW deserves better than that. Like I said, maybe in a few years, it'll all work out again. Maybe I'll realize that I care more about this brand of media than any other and that this is really where I belong. Until then, a toast to fresh beginnings.

I think the same is true in regards to the termination of my relationship with John, although I don't ever see us getting back together. (I just realized that John and I started dating only a couple of weeks before my first day at UTW. The irony is astounding, yes?) I don't miss the John I just broke up with; I miss the John I knew two and a half years ago. I miss the John who fell madly in love with me for reasons still unbeknownst to me and ones that not even he could explain (or, at least, never bothered to vocalize). I miss the John who went out of his way to make me happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own wants. I miss the John who planned romantic outings and sent flowers (once), not because they were things he did but because he thought to do them. When we moved in together, everything changed. He didn't go out of his way to do things, we started arguing a lot and I started wondering how quickly one person could fall out of love with another.

I know John cares deeply about his friends; he's always the one they call when they need something, and he never hesitates to drop what he's doing and answer their calls. I've often felt he cares more about his friends than he does me, and their high opinions of him probably make it difficult for them to understand why I felt the need to end the relationship. I just want to feel the way I did when he first met, like I meant the world to him. I think I deserve that much. I deserve to mean that much to someone.

For now, I just want to move into my new apartment with my new paint and new furniture with my new baby and enjoy my family, my work, my life. I'm still a little scared shitless at the thought of doing it on my own, but I have faith that everything is meant to be exactly the way it is now. If it weren't, I don't think God would have provided me so many open doors to new opportunities.

I do know, however, that we need to get out of my parents' house fast. While I love them more than anything (except Isaac), I am so tired of hearing Fox News droning in the background morning and night. My dad actually said yesterday morning, while watching Good Morning America, "Why can't they just report the news instead of giving their opinions on everything?" and then changed the channel to Fox News. I laughed out loud. But I'm worried they are going to brainwash Isaac. My grandmother held him the other day while I ate dinner and mocked me, saying she was going to turn Isaac into a Republican by exposing him to Fox News. Then she did. Expose him to Fox, anyway. Hopefully I can undo any damage she's done. He is still young, after all.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


Slammed my finger in the car door this a.m. I quit.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

If I were the writing kind...

I've long wanted to write a book of some kind. I've never been too good at fiction, although, briefly, I kind of got into short stories while studying creative writing at TCC under Penny Colglazier. I always told her I couldn't write stories, but, somehow, for a semester, she drew it out of me and I came up with some pretty good stuff. Not good enough for a book, though. I'd thought of trying to publish some volume of poetry, but I haven't even been able to write that in a couple of years.

I'd always thought I'd like to do some sort of journalistic non-fiction piece, inspired by a book called Random Family by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc. She spent a period of her life living in the Bronx, reporting on the drugs, crime, poverty, love and trouble that bound the people living there, both to each other and to their neighborhood. And it all started when, working as a reporter, she was covering the trial of a crime committed there. It's a beautiful book, and, since I read it, I've been waiting for my big break, wanting to write with the depth and insight LeBlanc did.

I'd ruled out writing a memoir long ago. My life isn't that interesting (except for this week). And I know it's not about having exciting or unusual things happen to you, how some of the best stories are the most mundane, that it's all about being able to tell a good story. But it'd be like trying to sell subscriptions to my blog. My friends read it because they're nice and they love me and Isaac, but I doubt anyone else gives a hoot.

The one thing thing I've thought might be worth writing about it my relationship with my maternal grandmother. She died when I was 13, and, growing up, we were very, very close. I spent every Saturday night (and sometimes Friday) at her house, and she took me to church every Sunday. But there are things about her, about the things we did together, that were very strange. I just never realized how strange they were until I looked back on them as an adult. As a young girl, I'd sit down with her at the dining room table, we'd pore through her church hymnal, and she'd select the songs she wanted sung at her funeral. I was young enough to still believe she'd never die (even though she'd bought me a book about death, specifically, the death of a grandparent), but, for some reason, she entrusted me with her funeral plans. She'd also have me scour through her nick knacks and collectibles and mark anything I wanted after she died. I did this at least once a month, and, after a while, my initials were on little white stickers stuck to the bottom of everything on her china shelves.

When my friend Melanie would spend the night, we'd play communion, passing saltine crackers and a big cup of grape juice back and forth, taking nibbles and sips between reading scriptures and praying. I think we thought we were practicing.

I had the idea to compile these anecdotes into some sort of memoir, and I've had fun making notes, remembering these crazy moments. Each memory would lead to another, and I've been trying to get them all down on paper lest I forget again.

I've considered the possibility of helping my mom write her memoir. She's actually got some pretty amazing stories to tell: raising me alone, suffering a stroke induced by an aneurysm, recovering from the stroke when no one believed she would, asking my dad to marry her. She's pretty amazing. She's suffered some debilitating side effects from the stroke, which have prevented her from doing much writing (she used to write all the time), but she talks from time to time about writing her memoir, even if it's just for her kids and grand kids.

And hey, if hers becomes a best seller, maybe I can start commissioning memoirs! Not a bad idea... Got a story to tell?

I know this is one of those times I'll look back on and laugh...

My weekend culminated Tuesday morning when my grandmother backed into my car.

It started Thursday night with the dissolution of my two and a half-year relationship with John. It hasn't been working out for some time now, and I decided it was finally time to call it quits. I wanted so badly to be with him forever, to raise our child together, but, in the end, there was too much fighting and not enough selfless love to make the relationship work. I'm tired of bickering, tired of feeling like a single parent raising one sweet baby and one rebellious teenager. We agreed I would move out, and, in the meantime, I planned to stay in the house.

I spent half of Saturday looking for apartments and houses before meeting Natasha and family at Greek Fest for a gyro (the highlight of my day). I found an amazing duplex near Cherry Street, and worked the numbers over and over again in my head before admitting that there was no way I'd be able to afford the rent on my own. I prayed for something more affordable i the same area, but it seemed impossible, given the quality of the neighborhood.

Saturday night, Isaac got sick. I had been at Urban Brew, and, when I picked Isaac up from his Grandma Robinson's, she said he had been coughing and sneezing and congested all evening. By 1am, he was worse. He couldn't sleep because he couldn't breathe. I called John and asked him to bring us some saline spray and baby Benadryl. He couldn't because he was too drunk to drive and planned to stay at a friend's house. Furious, I took Isaac to my parents', and we've been there since.

After Isaac finally fell asleep at around 1:45, I got on Craig's List (where I'd found the amazing duplex) to see if any new amazing properties had been posted, and one had--an apartment a block away from and $200 less than the duplex I loved. I called the owner first thing Sunday morning, and her assistant agreed to show me the place. He warned me, though, that it was pretty messy. Whoever had been living there left in the middle of the night, and there was crap and dirt everywhere. I didn't care. I felt like this place was meant for me.

It's huge, nearly 1,000 square feet, with a big living room, big dining room, tiny kitchen, average bath and two decent-sized bedrooms. It's also got a couple extra closets for added storage. It's got wood floors and large windows that offer tons of natural light. It was dirty and the walls were covered with some pretty hideous shades of paint (the living room color resembles the greenish brown of baby poop, and the dining room is plaid and striped, circa 1970s), but, with a little cleaning and some fresh paint, it's just what I'm looking for.

I wanted to fill out an application, so I agreed to follow the guy to another property so he would be on time for his next appointment, and I was happy to see that the place was immaculate. It was reassuring to know that the property owner does take very good care of her apartments and that, after she was finished cleaning mine, it would be immaculate, too.

So I filled out the app, put down a deposit, and I sign the lease Friday. I'll be painting it myself, which is okay, because I'm excited about picking out the paint colors. I also have to buy new furniture since I gave nearly everything I owned to Youth Services of Tulsa when I moved back in with John, but I've been looking at Craig's List for that, too, and will be able to put together a ramshackle assortment of old, unique pieces for a couple hundred dollars. It's been fun planning the interior design of our new place, and I'm trying not to make it too girly so Isaac will have nothing to complain about, once he's old enough to complain.

Isaac stayed sick all day Sunday, and, by Monday, his cold had turned into croup. He woke us both up at about 4:30 Monday morning with an awful, barking cough and didn't go back to sleep until about 6am. I stayed home from work to take care of him, and he was (understandably) clingy and fussy all day. We went to the doctor that afternoon, and she confirmed my diagnosis and gave us an oral steroid, which helped as soon as we gave it to him. I spent a couple of hours that evening packing some of our stuff, and, at some point, my phone broke. It dialed and received calls, but the screen was completely black, so I couldn't retrieve any of my numbers or read the five or so text messages I got.

After another sleepless night, I grudgingly drug myself out of bed and into the shower to get ready for work. As I was heading out the door, my grandmother came in the house, nearly in tears, saying she backed into my car. She was so upset, but all I could see was a minor scratch on the front bumper, so I told her it was no big deal, not to worry about it, and set off to work. But my driver's side door wouldn't open. Apparently, when she backed into me, she pushed my fender back. So I spent all day climbing into and out of my car from the passenger side. At that point, all I could do was laugh.

So in two weeks, I've changed jobs, ended a relationship and will move into a new home. I'm pooped. It's a lot to take in all at once, but I feel like all of it, every bit (well, except Isaac getting sick), was meant to be and is for the best. I'm nervous about being a single mother, but I know I'm not alone. I have an amazing support group of family and friends who will make sure I have more than the help I need. And I know (hope) that John will play an active role in his son's life. I also think the breakup will probably help my relationship with John. I was back at the house last night packing, and we were able to get along fine, probably better than we have in the last couple of months. I do worry about the day Isaac comes home and says, "But dad lets me drink pop and play in the street..." or we face some other discrepancy in our parenting styles, but I figure I can't worry too much about that kind of stuff now. I have plenty to worry about now; I can worry about everything else when the time comes.

And being at my parents' house this week has been more of a blessing than the burden I thought it was going to be. At midnight last night, after trying (and failing) for hours to get Isaac to sleep, my parents took him into their room so I could get a couple hours of much-needed rest. I have so much support, and Isaac has so many amazing family members who love him and want to take care of him. I couldn't be more blessed or more grateful.

Monday night, after helping one of his employees move, my dad came into the living room with this tiny golf club, a putter no more than two feet tall, and said, "This is Isaac's." I think he had made it (he used to have a little shop in Sand Springs where he made golf clubs years and years ago before we moved to Houston) for my brother, but I have no idea where, after all this time, he found it. But he's keeping it in their bedroom until Isaac is old enough to go to the driving range with him. It's the club he'll use to teach Isaac to golf.

I know everything will work out.

But, rather than end on a high note, let's include today's happenings:
I dropped my phone for the last time. the flip top broke free from the phone and it's done. Completely. Then, as I was leaving for lunch, I heard something scraping the ground behind my car. It was my phone charger. It had fallen out of my backseat and I ran over it. The plastic pulled away from the wires and then the cord snapped in two.

At this point, I'm just being really, really careful. I feel like I've had all of the emotional and technological bad luck I can get, and the next thing to happen will be physical. I'm nervous I' going to trip on a crack in the sidewalk and break my leg or something.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Bombs Away

Isaac jumped off my parents' dining room table yesterday. Literally.

My mom strapped him into his bouncy seat and put it on the table while she finished the morning's crossword puzzle. She said she looked down at the paper and looked up just in time to see the bouncy seat fall face first off the table. The mobile took the brunt of the fall, and Isaac was more shaken up than he was hurt. My parents called me about 20 minutes after it happened, and he had stopped crying and was playing and laughing like normal, but we took him to the doctor anyway, just to make sure there weren't any injuries we hadn't seen.

He was fine, but it was a pretty terrifying experience for a new mom. My mom was more upset than anyone, though. She cried nearly the whole day, worrying that I wouldn't want her to watch Isaac anymore. I was angry, but not that angry. I just asked her to promise never to put Isaac's bouncy seat on any elevated surface. And, to baby-proof the house before she puts him in the walker she's been dying to buy.

Moving On, Moving Up

Wed., Oct. 1 will be my last day at UTW. I've accepted a position at the Tulsa Business Journal as Assistant Editor, and I'm really excited about the new opportunity. I'd been looking to move on for some time now, so I was surprised at the mixed emotions that sort of rushed at me when Stephen made the offer. I expected to feel overjoyed, and I did, but I also felt nervous and a little scared. I've spent two and a half years at UTW, and, until recently, they'd been really, really good years. I'd been so miserable of late that I'd sort of forgotten how much I used to love my job. In an instant, I was reminded of how much I've learned and grown while working here, and I'm very, very appreciative of that.

I'm also appreciative of where I'm going, of starting a new chapter and of working in an enviornment where I feel valued and respected. It's almost funny that, while interviewing for TBJ, I was all-of-a-sudden reminded that I am someone with experience and talent. I am someone worth having as an employee who has a lot to offer any company. Dammit! It's crazy that I had somehow forgotten all these things. And I didn't realize I had forgotten until I remembered.

It hasn't all been bad, but the last few months haven't been good. I'm excited to move on to a less stressful, more rewarding work enviornment. I'm tired of going home angry and of having my work life affect my home life. When my home life revolves around my son, it's not worth it to be unhappy.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Green Tulsa

I started a new blog called Green Tulsa (http://greentulsa.blogspot.com) after hearing about an blog started and maintained by the Oklahoma Sustainability Network called Fresh Greens (http://freshgreens.typepad.com). Fresh Greens involves various members of OSN blogging about sustainability issues specific to Oklahoma City, and I hope Green Tulsa will do the same for Tulsa.

This is one of those instances where, after hearing about Fresh Greens, I asked if there is anything similar to it in Tulsa. Then someone said, "Why don't you start one?" And so, I've added yet another thing to my list.

I've got a handful of people who've said they'd be willing to contribute monthly blogs, but so far, only one person has actually sent me something (but it's not posted yet). If you or anyone you know is interested in participating, I'd love to have some more help.

Until then, please visit the blog and leave your comments and constructive criticisms!

Friday, September 12, 2008

THANKFUL THURSDAYS: the week in gratitude

Okay, I know it's not Thursday, but I liked Tasha's idea of theme days, and I have a lot to be grateful for, so I'm doing it anyway.

1. Isaac's health
2. Isaac's smiles
3. Isaac's laughter
4. Isaac's grandparents, both my parents and John's parents. I'm grateful that my parents watch him every day while I'm at work and that John's parents watch him any time I'll let them. I'm grateful for the love they have for him and for the support they give John and me.
5. New opportunities (or the promise of such)
6. Fellow mommies, good friends
7. The weekend
8. Being nearly finished with the Annual Manual

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

More of Isaac's Incredible Feats (not feets)

We went to the doctor today, and Mr. Isaac weighed in at 15 pounds and is 27 inches long. As Dr. Ludlow gave him his OMT, I talked about some of the developmental milestones Isaac is reaching, and she was very encouraging, assuring me that, yes, my baby is the only baby to have ever done those things. Okay, maybe she didn't go that far, but she was encouraging and reminded me how even the smallest things can be such a big deal and how quickly we forget them.

Well, thank goodness for my blog. Isaac and I will never forget a moment of his childhood, thanks to his mother's careful documentation. He probably won't care, when he's older, how old he was when he took his first step or made his first sound, and the people reading this probably don't care, either (though I thank you for pacifying me), but I certainly care. Last night, after I wrote the entry about Isaac's amazing acrobatics, I read through all of my pregnancy journal entries, a feeling of nostalgia washing over me as I read. They weren't written that long ago, but already I'd forgotten the magic I felt while writing them. I hadn't forgotten what a miraculous experience being pregnant was; rather, I'd forgotten the detailed emotion embedded in each moment. I'm glad I wrote it down. I wish I'd written more often.

I need to write more often about Isaac. Everyone talks about how quickly babies grow into children. Even I was casually spouting off the other night how, in only a couple of years, Isaac won't be so needy and I'll be my own person again, separate from this little life that clings so desperately to me now. Later, I thought about what I had said. Rather than anticipate the freedom of Isaac's maturity, I was saddened by the fact that, in a few years, he really won't need me as much as he does now. In fact, it probably won't be too long before he wants nothing to do with me, him being so cool and his mom cramping his style and all. So, I no longer look forward to baby-free outings. Sure, I enjoy them when they come along, but I don't crave them. I appreciate every moment Isaac needs me and that I have the privilege of being his mommy.

And I said all of that, really, to say that I'd missed out on writing down some of Isaac's most recent accomplishments. Here's a list:

1. In addition to rolling over, Isaac is also holding his head steady while on his tummy and lifting his shoulders with his arms.

2. He can almost crawl. Okay, not really, but every time I leave him on his tummy and go to a different room, even if only for a minute, by the time I come back, he's either inched his way forward a foot or spun himself in a complete circle. He keeps his forehead on the ground and kicks off with his legs, propelling himself forward inch by inch. More recently, he's begun pushing himself backwards with his arms. I'm out shopping for room-sized tummy time mats.

3. Last week, when he was really learning to hold his head and shoulders up, he'd get up on his left hand and his right elbow, lift his shoulders and look around, then drop his head back to the floor so quickly and suddenly that it landed with a soft thud. It was as though his neck just couldn't handle the strain for very long and would give out after about 30 seconds. He'd lift his head again, then drop it back to the ground with another thud. He'd do this about four or five times before getting tired and cranky.

The World's Most Amazing Baby

I wrote this yesterday evening...

Isaac rolled over today. All by himself. When I arrived at my parents’ house this afternoon to pick him up, my mom told me he rolled over during tummy time. I made a deal with myself, though, that, if Isaac did something for the first time while I was at work, it doesn’t count. It only counts if I see it. If he does it while I’m there, then it’s the first time.

Still at my parents’ house, I put him on his tummy on a blanket on the floor and watched as he struggled to hoist his little body over onto his back. He’d stick his butt up in the air, bringing his knees forward to his chest, and kick off with his feet, attempting to catapult his body to the side (the right side) and onto his back. It took about five attempts, and he rolled over. I screamed and clapped and praised him relentlessly. He looked a little unnerved by my reaction, like he wasn’t sure what the big deal was. I rolled him back over on his tummy, and, after about four tries, he rolled over onto his back again. I clapped and cheered and told him what a smart, strong, amazing baby boy his was. Obviously this was the first time in the history of the world a baby ever rolled over. It was his momma’s proudest moment thus far.

Of course, I rolled him over again, hoping to see him accomplish this amazing feat just one more time, but he seemed tired and annoyed, and he fussed as he attempted to launch his body over. After the third attempt, when he was about three-quarters of the way over, I gave him a little push to help him onto his back. Yes, I know he could have done it himself, but I felt a fit coming on that I wanted to avoid. I didn’t even think to grab the camera; I was so caught up in the moment. Next time I’ll be sure to provide photographic proof of his accomplishment.

He’s also trying more and more to sit up. I’ve stopped putting him in his bouncy seat so much because I worry that forcing him into such a reclined position might keep him from sitting up. But even when I do set him in it, he attempts to sit up, pulling his body up straight and tight before losing his balance and falling over to the side. I straighten him out and he does it all over again. I put him in his Bumbo more and more now and set him in front of this mirrored, blinking, music-playing toy I got for him at the Just Between Friends sale. He kicks it and hits the buttons to make it light up and play nursery rhymes. He’s become much more interested in toys over the last couple of weeks, and our prized possession is this Leap Frog caterpillar also purchased at the sale. I mean it when I say “we.” I love that thing as much (maybe more) as he does.

Speaking of the sale, I went last Saturday on half-price day and got tons and tons of winter clothes in 6-9 months, and I’ve put him in a couple of sleepers (he gets colder in his crib than he did sleeping with me), and they already fit him. Now I’m worried that by the time it’s cold enough to wear all of the clothes I bought, they’ll be too small and he’ll have to go all winter stark naked. I’m thinking of swinging by the Broken Arrow sale this weekend and picking up a few things in 12 months just in case. I love an excuse to shop for my little man.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Independent Sleeping Experiment: Part 2

Isaac did well last night. I got him down at about 9:15 after a long, loud trip home from grandma and grandpa's. He woke up three times between 9:15 and 10:15 and then didn't wake up again until 2:40. I had the same anxious feeling I'd had the night before, not having him in my bed, and I laid there awake for a good 30 minutes before I finally went in and checked on him. I'd been trying to stay out of his room for fear of waking him up, but, just once, I had go to put my hand on his tummy and assure myself he was still breathing and everything was okay. It was, of course. After that, I fell asleep and slept pretty well. After his 2:40 waking, he woke up again at about 5:30. Then, I brought him to bed, nursed him, and we (over)slept until about 7am.

All in all, not a bad night. I am considering moving him to the cradle that's still in our bedroom so I'll stop freaking out so much about the ridiculous, unknown perils I imagine await him in his own room. That, or I could just get a grip. Either one. We'll see.

John still slept on the couch.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Who needs sleep?

Isaac slept in his crib for the first time last night. We had only started cosleeping because I couldn't find any other way to get him to sleep at night. It worked for a while, but for the past three or four weeks he's been waking up every two hours again, just as he did when he was a newborn. I started to wonder if sleeping so close to me wasn't keeping him up now instead of helping him sleep. Wondering if, every time I moved, I woke him up, which woke me up. I thought I'd experiment to see if sleeping in his crib would help him sleep better. And help me sleep better. Also, I'd been thinking about transitioning him out of the bed and transitioning John back in. John hasn't slept in the bed since Isaac started sleeping there.

So, last night I tossed everything that was in his crib on the floor (I'd been using it as storage, since he wasn't sleeping in it anyway), yanked the crib bumper out, turned on the night light and prepared for a long battle. The first time I got him down, it was about 9pm. I left his room with mixed feelings. In a way, I was excited about the prospect of getting some sleep, but I was also kind of depressed. I missed Isaac. I enjoyed having him in my bed, even if we were constantly waking up. But I realized I may be cosleeping because it's better for me, and not necessarily because it's better for Isaac. I know my little man needs to sleep, and I want to do whatever I can to help him sleep. But I definitely missed having him in bed.

I was also, of course, running through my mind all of the horrible things that could happen to him in his sleep, without me right next to him. I was worrying myself sick about SIDS when, to make matters worse, I found John in the living room watching a Discovery Health program about a man who almost lost his leg to a brown recluse bite. So then I start thinking Isaac's going to be bitten by a spider or other horrible creature, all the while remembering a story I'd heard about a snake that got into a baby's bed and wrapped itself around the baby's little body. I was a nervous wreck, and John just shook his head, thinking I was absolutely crazy to be so worried.

I didn't have to worry long. Isaac was up again by 10. Then again at 11. And again at 12. I finally went to sleep at 12 and didn't wake up again until I heard him at 5am. I was excited that he'd slept five hours. Maybe there's something to this crib sleeping, I thought. Then I realized, he was sleeping in the opposite direction I had left him. John said he woke up at about 1am, but John got to him before he could wake me up. When he woke up at 5, I just brought him to bed with me, and by 7, we were up for the day. So, four hours. I'm not sure he did any better than he would have in bed with me, but I figured we'd try it a few more nights. If there's a chance it's going to help him sleep better, then I want to try it.

The funny thing? After all that, John still slept on the couch. I think it's become a habit.

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