On the (not) sleep(ing) train! Woo woooo!

This morning when it was nearly eight o'clock (we usually leave the house at 7:30) and I was sitting on the living room floor in an old tshirt that I had slept in and no pants changing and dressing Wesley and Ryan was bumping around upstairs searching for a pair of shoes for Charlie to wear I was desperately wishing getting back in bed and pulling the covers over my head was an option. But, the only thing standing me between a life of free time, disposable income, and (gasp) hobbies is my defense, so I must press on.

Friday night went spectacularly well with the sleep training. He woke up at 11:30 and fell asleep easily with a pacifier and some tummy patting. Same thing at 3:30, 4:30, and 6:00. I got to sleep from 9:30 to 7:30. It was unbelievable! Our experience with Charlie told us that eventually he would grow bored with the pacifier and stop waking us up to get it for him. Thus far, Wesley's response has been more like "DAMMIT I said I was HUNGRY! YOU CAN'T FOOL ME!!" Last night was a big fat failure including half an hour of crying, which resulted in sleep (yay! After reading Moxie's discussion of cry-it-out I was sure Wesley was a "gains tension by crying" kid and that we were doomed to cosleeping until he was old enough to get the jokes on The Tonight Show, so I was ecstatic to learn that he IS capable of calming himself down), but he got all tangled up in his swaddling blanket in the process (boo!) and I had to wake him up to free him for safety reasons. Twenty-ish minutes later he was back out but by six he was in bed with me, probably because he was cold without his blanket (bang bang bang head on desk).

And now I will entertain you with some fancy pageant walkin' pictures of our weekend (which was very nice despite the sleep issues and obstructed sinus cavities) while I dive back into the sordid world of non-parametric statistics (as it turns out, the name of the test I need is "Kruskal-Wallis", not "Crisco-Wallace" like I had written in my notes from the mini-defense. I guess I was hungry.)


His cuteness out for a little morning swinging (which is absolutely terrifying, let me tell you.


My sister and I briefly made Ryan carry all the kids. He secretly liked it. Charlie cried for most of this walk. We thought he was tired, but as it turns out, he had part of a banana stem stuck in his nose. Oops.


This one's for Godmother, who will probably name her firstborn son "Roethlisberger". I also like the way Charlie is looking humbly away from the camera like a cherub in a Renaissance painting.


Playing "drive-in".