Thwarted. Soaked. Fail.

Punky's closing in on her one year birthday in less than a month now, and still is not sleeping through the night. No, really, I'm serious. So that means that since I was about eight months pregnant -- over a YEAR, people -- I haven't had a full, uninterrupted night's sleep.

I've convinced myself that it's okay and I don't mind. At the very least, she's pretty regular about when she wakes up -- usually around 4 and again at 7 -- and it's a quick fix. This kid doesn't cry it out. I tried it. (Great, now the Crazies are going to put a Grand Blogging Ban on my blog because I'm an advocate of crying it out... just not with my kid because have I mentioned she is fucking stubborn, and hell if I know where she got that?) Punky stayed up wailing, nonstop, for THREE HOURS. After three hours, I finally trudged into her room, defeated, sleep deprived, and frustrated, boobed her, and watched her drift back to sleep. After that point she and I reached a silent, mutual agreement that we wouldn't do this again.

So A's mother, the Christ of Childcare, suggested giving her a bottle of warm water -- the idea being that she'll realize all she's waking up and wailing for is water, which sucks in comparison to formula, and will decide it's not worth showing up to the party if nobody's bringing the keg, so to speak. I regard this woman as a wise sage of childbearing (not holding it against her that she raised A., which...eeeeehhhhh...), so I tried it.

Punky loved the water.

Chugged 8 oz. of water in record time without so much as a breather.

Can her stomach even hold 8 ounces? I don't even know. Along with my stubbornness, outspokenness, fabulous dark brunette hair (yes, Shaken Mama, she's finally getting some hair), and insane lung capacity, she's also inherited my ability to imbibe at a fascinating, inhuman rate. Baby bongs. There's an idea. To the patent office!!!

Anyway. She wasn't even phased by the water, and the end result was a very soaked diaper, baby, set of footie PJs and velour sheets in the morning. It looked like the New Orleans levies had broken all over the crib. Pretty sure I saw Sean Penn floating by in a boat with a camera crew.

So after cleaning up , we're back to the drawing board. Someday I'll sleep. Someday.

(PS, the official talk has taken place and, pending we don't have anymore statistical surprises *ahem, Hello Punky, goodbye Nuvaring*, we will begin trying for Spawn #2 in about 2.5 years. So that gives me 2.5 years to get maybe, MAYBE, one good night of sleep in.)