Best laid plans...

I feel like death warmed over today. A magnificent headache is sitting on my temples like a two ton hippopotamus. An alcohol free hangover :o(

Charlie was up for hours last night. It started a little before 2am. He didn't really cry, just felt like whining/moaning/talking to himself. I knew there was nothing wrong with him or I would have rushed in (I even checked him quietly in the dark without him noticing).

Joe and I sat and listened to him for an hour and a half and then I cried uncle. "He must be hungry, he didn't eat as much as he normally does," I mumbled as I staggered to the kitchen for a bottle. Joe was telling me, pleading with me to ignore it and let Charlie ride it out. I couldn't take it anymore-I needed (and need) sleep.

Went in and fed Charlie and what did my little bean take? Not 7, 6.5, or 6 oz...3 oz of formula. "You've just been played by the master manipulator," is what my husband said as I collapsed back into be at 4am. He's right, and now I have to be twice as strong tonight. Consistency is the key to 'sleep training,' and I just screwed the whole thing up. Oh well, you live, you learn.

As I drifted off to sleep at 4:30 I sent a silent prayer out that Charlie would sleep late today- but he had other plans ;o)