Kenny, the wee babe, Atticus McPoodle, and I just returned from yet another trip to Houston (we are squeezing in all of our Texas goodbyes before we head northeast). With all our to-and-fro lately, we try to preserve as much routine as possible no matter where we are: the eat/wake/sleep routine (endorsed by Baby Whisperer Tracy Hogg and, well, biology), nightly bath + massage + book (Simon has soaped up in several hotel sinks in the name of “routine”), a fairly consistent bedtime (lies, lies), and, perhaps most important and somewhat controversial: some sort of sleeping straight jacket.
We started with the swaddling blankets that we
stole borrowed interminably from the hospital. We are good people, I swear, but veteran parents far and wide told us to do this. (I just reread that sentence, and I’m sure this is how a life of crime begins.) As Simon grew, we used the Miracle Blanket and loved it. Not all babies like to be swaddled, of course, but Simon did/does and there was no escaping the Miracle Blanket–it has these interior arm flaps that kept him burrito’d all night long. When he started wanting more access to his hands (specifically, the incomparably tasty index finger), we tried swaddling him with one arm out–only to find our dude with bloody scratches on his cheeks that even daily nail-trimming didn’t seem to deter. 😦
Enter a new reflex-suppressor: Baby Merlin’s Magic Sleepsuit. Yes, the words “miracle” and “magic” are coercive and manipulative, especially when uttered in the presence of sleep-deprived parents. And no, we are not proponents of purchasing yet another single-function baby item (this kid’s favorite “toy” is a plastic melon-baller, and his bum is cleaned with medical-grade cloth wipes that the cheapskates in us have cut into eighths). But some friends told us about the Sleepsuit, and we have one-click shipping with Amazon Prime, and it was late, and one thing led to another…
Simon loves it. He actually smiles when we zip him up in it–rather creepy. It looks oppressively hot, but is actually quite breathable, and the neckline scoops low enough that it never rubs against his face. Because you can pop his legs out without removing his arms from the suit, it isn’t even that hard to change a diaper in the middle of the night. I’ll be sad when he outgrows it, because we aren’t shelling out for the next size up–but we already ditched the pacifier, so we can bid adieu to yet another sleep prop. And we DO want him to make friends in college.