Sleep, friends. Sleep is my problem.
To all you sleep trainers out there, I have nothing but love for you. And I'm not opposed to tears, as long as they are productive. But we've had close to a month of tears with no success. I've had all the crying I can take. So this is me, throwing up a white flag. Score one for the baby. I don't care if I rock him until his first prom, I'm done forcing the sleep issue.
I am also done obsessing over why he's not sleeping. It feels like my life's work is to get this child to take a nap. And really? It's not. For a while I blamed stress in the home. Then I blamed a tooth (I'm still partly blaming a tooth, because that's the standard catchall for baby weirdness). Then, today, I remembered a curse Georgia's mom bestowed on me when Georgia was the age Asher is now. "You did this," she said, after a string of sleepless days. "You taught my child how to sit up, and now she won't lie down." Maybe Georgia's mom has more spiritual power than she realized. Or maybe karma exists.
Or maybe he just doesn't want to take a nap. How should I know? What I do know is this - between his burst of movement, and his lack of naps, I feel like our lives are too negative. I'm saying "no" and lamenting his nap all day, every day. No more. If that means fewer naps, or even a more tired baby, so be it.