This spring has been eventful. I regret not finding the time to write things down as they happen, which ensures that so many touching small moments are perhaps lost in my sieve of bad early-motherhood memory forever. I still approach this blogging thing as an event - my brain has not yet been Twitterized enough to be able to download 144-character fleeting recollections on the go, a fact I will find highly remorseful when I'm 80 (God willing!) and trying to remember how my children's lives sped past me.

One of the major accomplishments of this season of our lives has been the incredibly long anticipated, and in retrospect hugely anticlimatic, undertaking of teaching Jack to sleep through the night. I decided to go through with The Trial of Wills during Spring Break when I knew I could find some time to rest during the day if the nights turned out a little more sleepless (due to being loud) than before. We asked Jack's new pediatrician the question we knew the answer to (yes, it's important to wean him off nighttime bottles; yes, it's important for both of us involved for him to learn to settle himself back to sleep). In an ironic 'coincidence' I ran into a saleswoman at Williams Sonoma who related her own experience of going through that with her own daughter, of similar age, and told of three nights worth of wails and hour-long screaming sessions, after which peace returned and all were happier thereafter.

Looking back, I marvel that *I* get so ingrained into the process that I distrust mine and Jack's collective ability to keep shaking things up and progressing to better places in life. He had some complaints the first couple of nights, but nothing major; and by night #3 he was mostly OK with the new routine, and has been ever since. The only question I have looking back is - What Took Me So Long?! Geez.

Encouraged by the speedy success, we grabbed the bull by the horns and gave up the baby bottles altogether - this change Jack failed to notice completely and moved right on. For the record, Maya was still drinking her bedtime milk out of Dr. Brown's near the time that Jack was born (two and a half, for her, at the time), and it was my Mom's simple removal that got those archived for Jackman's use. It is true that these HUGE events (sarcasm implied) are easier for a Number 2 in general, although Jackman's rich history of ... being special continues to ensure that I fret over every. little. thing that has to do with him, his health, and general wellbeing.

My next adventure will be scheduled for this Memorial Day and involve removal of pacifiers from our house. Because I am now of good conviction that past 18 months, the suckers (pun was not intended, but funny nevertheless) are unnecessary and create more toddler drama than they're worth. Giddy up!