D'oh!

It finally happened. Up until now, B. had been going, at most, six hours between feeds. We tried to time those at night, of course, but they've been few and far between.

Well, last night he went a whopping eight hours between feeds (sleeping for seven of them)! And what was I doing?

I was wide awake, waiting it out. I fed him at 8 o'clock, he got sleepy around 9, so we decided to forgo his bath until he ate around 10 or 10:30 (that has been the trend, or so I thought). After he went to sleep, C. and I finished watching the rest of the Steelers-Jaguars game (sorry to all my peeps in PA!), ate hot dogs for a late-late dinner, and watched a Saturday Night Live rerun that had one of our favorite skits (promise to post that later).

When 11 o'clock rolled around, I started to get antsy. Should we B. to feed, burp and bathe him? Should we let him sleep? Only one problem with the latter: I was still awake. I would be missing out on valuable ZZZZs if this was his long sleep of the night.

We just said, "Screw it! Let him sleep!" and C. and I started playing Tiger Woods '05 on XBox. We played 18 holes at St. Andrews and I scored a 63 (woot!), all the while hearing little peeps out of B. on the baby monitor. He never full-on woke up, and I even joked to C. this is going to be the night he's going to sleep for eight hours.

At 1:30 a.m., when I needed toothpicks to keep my eyes open, I tiptoed into bed, trying not to make a sound. B. didn't rouse until 3:50 to feed, then again at 8:20 a.m.

I've had six hours of sleep, which is usually great in my book, but I'm lamenting the precious seven-hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep I missed out on. Hopefully this wasn't a freak occurrence and he'll do it again this week, then more and more until it's a nightly ritual.