I may have referenced this before, but Miss Meg has entered that delightful stage of baby-hood where standing in one's crib is oh so much more fun than sleeping in it. Its a particularly irritating feat when she does it at 2am. The problem is two fold:
a) She can stand up, but she's not quite figured out how to get back down. Stand or sit while out of the crib and sure she'll get it all worked out. Stand or sit in the crib? The child has been known to fall back to sleep sitting up. Yes. She has.
b) Even if she COULD get back down after standing up, well she just simply does not want to. If you help her lay back down, she's sitting back up before your feet hit doorway and she's standing before you can whisper "Shhh, sleep-time Megan Rose. Go to sleep honey. You're fine."
Simultaneously she's decided the bottle is so not worth her time. Its not that she's looking to ditch what's in it, she just has no need for the delivery mechanism. Its so baby and she's ready to be a big kid like her brother. The last two days, Megan has taken the vast majority of her non-solid meals out of a strawed sports cup. Just like the one big brother likes to have his milk in. We're just very happy she's not got to have the regular open topped plastic cup he drinks his water out of. Ack! But I digress. You see, this recent bottle adversion also means she's waking up looking to eat. Sometimes its early - like an hour or two after she's gone to bed. Other times its wee-hours-of-the-morning early - like today when we got up at 4. And other times, frankly before we figured out the whole sippy cup thing, it was both.
Last night we heard her start to fuss at 11pm. We had been sleeping already - wiped out from the previous nights up and down with her. She called out once or twice. Then before one of us could roll out of bed to help her back down, she fell quiet. This morning at 4 she went from silence to hysterics. I walked in her room expecting to find her standing at a side rail, reaching out for a hand out. What I found was a baby frustrated by her own two feet.
We were lazy with the laundry this weekend and Miss Thing's clothes didn't end up in the machine until last night. She's out of her regular PJs. Instead she's wearing a pair that's been hanging in the closet as 'if we need it' back-ups. Old, one piece, pale blue hand-me-down footed PJs. Size 18 month. My daughter only wears a 12 month. The PJs, however are that tight, body fitted style so she can manage the larger size in a pinch - if we're ok with the big floppy feet. And trust me, after last night, I'm more than ok with them.
When Meg wears big, floppy footed pajamas, Meg can't pull up.
When Meg can't pull up, Meg goes back to sleep on her own accord unless she's really hungry.
When Meg polishes off 10 ounces before bed, Meg isn't hungry until early morning.
Mommy LOVES Footy Pajamas.
Its a temporary fix, no doubt. She's a little firecracker of a kid. She'll get this problem of hers figured out soon enough. In the interim, I'm contemplating a trip to the nether regions of my basement to see what other slightly too big in the feet sleepers I can scurry up.
As the big brother has recently taught his little sister to say, "Oh fey." Alas, my kids are tapping into our propensity to use the little Yiddish we've learned from my paternal Grandmother's side of the family. My Great Aunt Millie would be thrilled.