To sleep . . . to dream . . .

It's hard to believe, but in a little over a month, Gus will turn 1. I just can't get my head around it. I still remember vividly the first day back from the hospital. Emily and I sat in the living room with days-old Guster, and I remember thinking, "holy schnikes, what now?" Fortunately there wasn't too much time to think about things, as infant Gus proved to be quite the task-master:

Now it's time for me to sleep. But not in my crib. Not in the bassinet. No, not the car seat! On you. On your chest.

Now it's time to eat. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Good God, where is the food?!

Ok, now it's time to sleep again. Really? The crib, huh? You really think so? Yeah, that's what I though. Lie back and be still, please.

And so on. To be sure the first month clearly hinted at what our biggest challenge of the first year would be. Sleep would be the war. Where, when, and for how long would be the battles.

WHERE
As faithful readers of this blog know, Guster was not a fan of any sleeping destination that wasn't:

A. Mommy's chest
or
B. Daddy's chest

which was all fine and good when he weighed a mere 8 pounds. But as Gus grew, so did our backaches. And so the first battle was waged. We tried to get him to sleep anywhere -- his crib, his car seat, the bassinet, the stroller bassinet, the papa-san swing borrowed from our friends -- and nothing worked. I used to joke at the time -- "Brand new crib, $500 on MasterCard. Stroller, $500 on MasterCard. Swing, $100 on MasterCard. Having a baby boy that won't sleep anywhere but your chest -- priceless."

Eventually Gus relented, and started sleeping in his crib.

WHEN
Ah, bedtime. After some trial and error, we've eschewed a strict bedtime in favor of a range -- Gus goes to sleep for the night between 7:30 and 8:00.

FOR HOW LONG
The sleep war equivalent of The Battle of the Bulge. Every time we thought we were winning, something would throw us for a loop. He actually started sleeping through the night relatively early, but then he got his first winter-long cold, and later developed his first ear infection which made sleeping through the night difficult. Recovered, he would get back on routine, but the wake up time would get progressively earlier. 6:00am, 5:50, 5:35, 5:15, 5:00, 4:40! Just as mysteriously, Gus would reset the clock to something later, like 5:40am. On good nights he either wouldn't get up at all or would wake only once during the night. On bad nights, mom and dad would see every hour from 11:00pm to 5:00am. Not good times.

As my guest blogger wrote in the last post, Gus seemed to go on a sleep strike while I was in Europe. The strike did not cease when I got back and after a few bad nights and with Gus' first birthday looming in the distance, I made the case for the secret weapon: "Tough love." Others know it by a name that includes a certain verb that involves tears and a word that means the opposite of in, but I choose to define the term with love. To borrow a phrase from a song from dad's favorite band -- we were going to "Attack with love." My reluctance to talk tears here doesn't mean that no tears were shed when we unveiled the Tough Love. No, tears were shed, and while most were from the G-Man, I can't say all of them were. But after 30 minutes or so, the brave little boy put himself back to sleep. And slept until 6:30am. The next night there was less than 5 minutes of crying, and again Gus awoke around 6:30am.

We couldn't be prouder of the little man, and I am happy to say that as Gus closes in on cake-smashing day, the battle -- and the war -- appear to have been won.

Check out the little man below:

Gettin' into trouble
G on the floor, U in hand
Where's that S?
Uh-oh. Caught.
Put in the the pie-hole
Nice hair
Standing tall (28")
Sitting with Dad.

Guest Blogging

As many of you know, Kevin is on a work trip so I decided to do a little blogging of my own. Kevin shouldn't have to do all the work! Actually, that leads me to the subject of this post: it's time to give Kevin the credit he deserves by disclosing all of the things he does for Gus & me every day. We have become especially appreciative of these things when he's gone. Especially last night when Gus woke up at 11pm, 2am, 3am, 4am, and at 5am for the day. The boy seems to be on some sort of sleep strike, but I digress – this isn't about me.

I should mention that Gus and I haven't been entirely without help since Kevin's been gone. We went to the zoo with Grandma & Grandpa A. on Sunday, and stayed at their house on Tuesday night because I had a late meeting at work. It's been so nice to have all the help (thanks Mom and Dad!) and I'm not sure how single parents do it. Here is the evidence from the zoo. Can you pick out the monkeys?

Back to my original point, Kevin does a lot. A typical day at our house:

5 or 5:30am – The rooster wakes up. Kevin stops him from testing his climbing skills and changes his diaper. Gus then yells at his daddy to get him to his breakfast, pronto.

5:30-6:30am – I feed the bambino, which would be a great time for Kevin to catch a few more winks, but he usually gets out of bed to a) wash the dishes, b) take out the garbage, c) make coffee, d) get our bags ready to go or e) all of the above.

6:30am – Kevin entertains Guster while I try to get 5 more minutes of sleep. Then I get in the shower and Kevin entertains the boy and gets him a little snack because his appetite is never quite sated.

7-7:10am – Kevin showers and gets ready for the day. He usually gets about 10 minutes for this before Gus is climbing all over him. 15 minutes on a good day.

7:15-8:30am – This is the time warp where we're not exactly sure what happens but we have the hardest time getting out of the house before 8:30. I should note that when it's just me and Gus we leave around 7am. I should also note that Gus and I are not very clean when left to our own devices.

8:45am – I drop Kevin and Gus off at daycare/work and Kevin drags sleeping baby, bottle, food, extra outfits, etc. into building.

* * *

5:45pm – After working all day, I call Kevin and say there's no way I'm going to make it to pick him and Gus up by 6pm, so he'll have to run down to day care and bring Gus back up to his office.

6:30pm – We get home and change, and Kevin makes Gus's dinner and feeds him while I contemplate our dinner.

7pm – I feed Gus after deciding a vegetarian cassoulet would make for a tasty meal and hand the recipe and ingredients to Kevin. He brings me a glass of wine and whips up dinner.

8pm – I put Gus to bed and Kevin and I eat. He then turns to his work for a few hours and hopes he doesn't have to get up in the night with a baby who is teething/having bad dreams/congested.

I should add that Kevin rarely complains about any of this (except for the time it takes us to get out the door in the morning – but I'm working on it!) and insists that our little guy is totally worth all the effort. I have to say I agree.

This is what Gus thinks of Mom's cooking:

It gets better the next night:

The Mother of All Mailbags

John Bucigross writes a weekly column about the NHL for espn.com. At the end of the column, he includes comments from readers in a feature called The Mother of All Mailbags.

The G-Man makes an appearance this week. Check it out!

http://sports.espn.go.com/nhl/columns/story?columnist=buccigross_john&id=3287968

And in this corner, from Minneapolis, Minnesota . . .

It's The Preacher!

When I was a kid, I was a big fan of professional wrestling. I remember going to matches with my friends and our dads and cheering wildly for Hulk Hogan, The Road Warriors, and The Junkyard Dog, and jeering with just as much gusto, the "heels" -- Ric Flair, Paul Orndorff, and Bobby "the Brain" Heenan. I loved the characters with their signature finishing moves -- The Undertaker with his "Tombstone" piledriver, The Honky Tonk May with his "Shake Rattle and Roll" neckbreaker, and of course, Razor Ramon's, "The Razor's Edge."

It seems that the love for the squared circle has been passed down, and Guster may be destined to join the spandexed ranks of the luminaries listed above. If he does, Em and I have decided that his ring name will be The Preacher. Gus has taken to raising one hand above his head and yelling at us -- it looks like he's giving us a sermon. Gus also likes to wrestle with us. (Gus likes to go for the eyes and the nose). The other day, he and I were wrestling, and Gus pushed himself up into a standing position using my prone body for balance, put both hands in the air and started "preaching" before belly flopping onto my chest. This was it -- his signature finishing move . . . "The Bible Thump." 1, 2, 3!

Pictures of the future champ below:

Gus with Grandpa.

A cracker and a faux-hawk.

Doin' some preaching.

Gus exploring the Children's Museum.

Smile for the camera.

At the Children's Museum.

Where's Guster?

He Scores!

One of the Team of 18,000.

So Tired.