No rest for the weary.

Eliot is nearly 8 months old. He has had quite a seventh month. His Grandpa (Pap-Pap) came for a visit as did his Aunt Danielle and cousin Ava (the star of Beantastic). In the course of these visits, a miracle happened. Eliot started sleeping. Not only was he putting in eight straight in some instances, he was going to bed without assistance. As in boob-sistance. I could lay him down in his crib, actually say, "Night, night Eliot" leave the room, and then within 20 minutes he was sound asleep. For hours. It was bliss.

And it was, of course, short lived. While Danielle was here, we secured babysitters (thank you to Laura and Karissa) to look after the kids and we were going to make a night of it at an art auction fundraiser that Justin donated a photograph to. I bought a new shirt, and I planned on wearing it with a bra that was not of the nursing variety. I was wearing shoes with a heel. I had on eyeliner. This was going to be awesome. The freezer was stocked with milk and I was going to drink wine. To tipsiness. We put the babies to bed and crept out, anticipating a midnight return.

Within an hour, Laura was calling. She didn't have to say a word as all I could hear was my child screaming his lungs out. "He's been at it for about a half an hour," was all I could make out over his wails. No tipsiness for this mommy.

I could hear him when we got out of the car in front of our house. He sounded terrified, as if I had actually run away to join some band of child leaving ne'er do wells and left him behind. As soon as he saw me he stopped, and then nursed as though he had been fasting for weeks. He slept great that night, but that was the end of that. No more him drifting off on his own, no more eight straights. It was back to the nurse-down and the up and down, sometimes 3 or 4 times a night.

We're getting there. The past couple of nights have been promising. Last night he only woke up once at midnight, was back to sleep in no time, and he slept until almost 7 a.m. I'll take it. For now.