When Finn was born, he went into a plastic and metal transport womb. He was wheeled through a tunnel into the NICU, where he was placed in another plastic womb. He moved rooms twice, then moved into an open plastic womb, then back into a transport womb for a trip back through the tunnel, and into a metal and plastic crib. Then carseat, then home.
When he came home, he slept in a co-sleeper in the living room and on daddywhumpus or on me. Then, we moved the co-sleeper to our bedroom, and the boy slept on daddywhumpus or on me. We've shuffled back and forth between the bedroom and the guest room for a little over a year. In July, we set up his crib in our room, and a few weeks later, we instituted The Routine to try to get him to sleep better. It worked, for a while. Then we went away; then he got sick; and it all went to hell. We stuck to The Routine, though, and that was still working pretty well, at least the getting-him-to-go-to-sleep part.
His record so far is two nights in a row of 7.5 hours in a row. That was before the weekend getaway.
This past weekend, we moved his hutch and crib into the guest room and my dresser back into our room. This also involved some moving of furniture to the basement, and it was quite a production. Now, he has his own room, and we keep him in there at night. Instead of bringing the baby back and forth when he wakes up, the parents change places. Oh, and Fritz the old cat has taken to peeing in Finn's room. That's a refreshing burst of flavor in our otherwise bland lives, now isn't it?
Having Finn's room is really nice. His toys are in there, and this weekend, I am going to put up some pictures that my mother has cross-stitched or embroidered over the years. Cats and the like. His toys are in there on the floor, and he can go in and play with them at will. Except for the fact that we have to have the door closed so that nothing gets peed on.
He'll do it right in front of us, the brazen little pussy.