Friday night was a rough night. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night. Elliot was up and screaming for a good portion of it. This was by far the longest crying jag we've had in our house. And Craig and I were especially unhappy about it because on Saturday we were leaving our supposedly perfect and well-behaved babies in the care of my parents, Nanny and Papa. I warned them that they should expect little to no sleep that night and that we had tried everything to get the Bear to sleep to no avail. My mom flippantly declared that she was going to try to let him sleep unswaddled and I laughed and laughed (in my head, obvs). That will NEVER work! He can't handle arm-freedom and all the flailing and flapping about it entails. Trust me. I'm his mother. Yadda, yadda, yadda… He slept through the night. Unswaddled. Color me an unintuitive ninny. Then last night, Craig fed Elliot and put him in the pack-n-play with a sleep sack and… wait for it... Not a peep until 6:30 this morning. I respectfully ask, WTF, Elliot? WTF? So the moral of the story is that I haven't a clue what I am doing.
In other news, Leah is like this close to crawling. She is getting up on all fours and trying so hard. She can also do the backstroke at an amazing clip, and therefore cannot be left alone on elevated surfaces (like our bed). I'm betting crawling will happen in mere weeks.