We’ve been through the night-weaning a lot lately. It was working well the first time; he was sleeping until 3 a.m.! But then he got sick. And couldn’t breathe. And wasn’t eating well. And I just couldn’t refuse.

He’s better now. Teething, but that’s not going to stop anytime soon. So after we got back from Missouri, we went through it again. He cried. And crawled all over me. And cuddled. And cried. And crawled all over me.

I tried the sippy to see if quenching his thirst would help, but no. That just wasn’t what he was looking for.

I didn’t sleep much that night.

Last night I tried a different approach. Which makes it difficult to tell which changes were from the repetition and which were from my different approach.

But last night, I tried explaining to him my expectations. In two-word sentences, of course. But that’s something I don’t do well as a mommy. I think things out in my head, I blog about them, I may *even* discuss them with Josh, but I don’t explain what’s going on to my children very often. When I do, changes go over SO MUCH MORE SMOOTHLY.

Like when I told Olivia our last day of dursing was coming. And when I talk endlessly about car-rides and train-rides, and visiting family in far-off lands.

But I feel silly honestly trying to communicate with a 15 month old. Who doesn’t try to communicate with me. Beyond, “Bah!” (Ball) and “Wooh, wooh!” (Woof woof, a.k.a. “dog”).

Regardless of the silliness, I tried that approach last night. I told him, “No nursings. Nursings in morning. Just cuddles. Cuddles Mommy.”

(Forgive my English – it was late, and I was trying my hardest to talk in a way that a 15 months old would understand. For the most part, I was imitating the way Olivia talks!)

I said that ONCE, the very first time I brought him to bed, after he started to cry and root and fuss, and he grabbed my head with his chubby little hands, pulled his face so close it was touching mine, and fell asleep.

(Let’s just enjoy that moment a bit longer)

(Sigh.)

However, that wasn’t the end of the night right there. He woke other times and fussed. And had to be told over and over that “nursings are for mornings” Sometimes he was happy to drink from his sippy, sometimes he was happy to cuddle, but sometimes he was just sad that he couldn’t nurse.

He did get a bit goofy at one point and threw his sippy at me. I know it wasn’t vengeance because of the stinker-laugh that followed.

But overall, I got a lot more sleep.

Like I said earlier, though, it could all be just because this was our second night. And our second attempt.

We’ll see what happens tonight.