In The Blue Corner...

...weighing in at approximately 13 lbs., all the way from Mother's Womb, the Birth Canal featherweight champion...Nathaaaaaniel Robert!

And in the red corner, weighing a combined total of 330 lbs., hailing from the Land of Sleep Deprivation...the Parentaaaaaal Units!

[in my best Michael Buffer impersonation] "Let's get ready to rumble!"

Are you placing bets yet? Who's your money on?


What a rumble it was. One for the history books. I never knew such a tiny being could put up such a huge fight when it came to bedtime. You would have thought we were attempting to solicit him as bait for mountain lions or something.

The funny thing is that Nate, for the most part, has always been a good sleeper. Well, as good as one can expect from a youngling of his stature. We can squeeze a couple of 3-4 hour stretches at night out of him. Sometimes even a 5 hour stretch if he cluster feeds all evening long. Normally, we retreat to bed around 10 or 11pm and after 15-20 minutes of side-laying nursing (which I call "cuddle time" even though it involves nipple play), he and I would slowly drift into co-sleeping dreamland. Easy peazy lemon squeezy. Or so I thought.

Like the flick of a switch, he did a 180 and decided he would protest bedtime. My itty bitty activist could no longer be lulled to sleep.

Round 1: Friday night

Nate came out strong, unyielding. He was "in the zone" and ready to show us who was boss (and no, Tony Danza was nowhere to be found). He was not going to sleep without a showdown. It was surprising. His tactics threw DH and I through a loop. We were knocked into a stupor. Was he hungry? In need of a clean diaper? A soothing glider? Was he overstimulated? Understimulated? Just plain pissed off? From 10pm to 1pm, we tried just about every trick in the book. My poor girls needed a break from their role as human pacifier so this was his retaliation, I thought. Finally, some alone time on the Bouncing Daddy ride helped to quiet him down enough to concede.

Rounds 2-5: Saturday through Tuesday

Or not. The fight continues. He was not ready to surrender to those heavy eyelids just yet. For four more straight nights, he left us in a perplexed daze. We wondered if this was going to be the new nightly routine. Brush teeth. Put on some moisturizer and eye cream. Pray for serenity while baby screams incessantly. Nate was clearly the victor. As DH and I scrambled for the energy to hit the snooze button each morning, he slept soundly. Even smiling in his sleep. What an ego on this kid.

Round 6: Wednesday

We had to make a comeback. We couldn't let him make a mockery of us. We needed a strategy. At 9pm, I decided to take preemptive strike - a bath, soaking him in lavender bath wash. I dried him off, dressed him in a onesie and swaddled him tight with one of his thick, yet soft and cozy blankets, being careful to leave his arms loose but his body tight. I turned off all the lights but turned on our oscillating fan. We crawled into bed, where I began to nurse him.

20 minutes later, ladies and gentlemen, we had a knockout. The parental units were triumphant. We're not sure what the secret weapon was or if he just snapped out of a phase. But there was a return to tranquility. Not just Wednesday but Thursday as well. We are grateful.
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In other news, the cluster feeding has ceased. The girls are relieved and are no longer pleading for my sympathies. I thought I was going to have to invest in these, but it seems two may actually be enough.

His hands are still fair game, however. Those poor souls have not been able to save themselves from the slobber monster. I fear they may never escape. But alas, better them than my nips. I doubt they feel pain equally.

Let's just hope there's no relapse.