The idiocy of new parenthood

We've been having problems with Ess' sleep in the second half of the night. So far, she goes to bed pretty easily, around 7 or 8, and sleeps for three to four-and-a-half hours pretty reliably. Then we'll usually get another 2.5 or 3-hour chunk out of her, then it all goes to hell. And when I say "hell," I mean waking up every 90 minutes, and fussing in her sleep between feedings such that her beloved food source, aka me, can not sleep much at all. And getting up for the day somewhere in the six o'clock hour, which makes the aforementioned food source truly miserable.

But, lo, this morning was different. I woke from a sound sleep at 8:15 to find Ess cuddled next to me, sweetly, silently asleep. I doublechecked to make sure she was breathing. I ran to the bathroom. I stared at her for a while in disbelief. And eventually I turned off the air conditioner and opened the shades, and she gently roused from sleep.

The big difference? Socks and a hat.

Genius parents that we are, it never occurred to us that she was cold. We've been running the AC every night (and I just received the electric bill to prove it) and putting her to bed wearing a onesie, then swaddled. We thought that was enough, but apparently it wasn't. So all that early-morning waking and grunting and grumbling was most likely little Ess' attempt to ask for more clothing. The true test will be tonight, when we repeat this brilliant maneuver of dressing her more warmly, and see what happens. Boy will I feel like a moron if the solution to our sleep problems -- which, I know, will morph and change and mutate into entirely new horrors as she grows -- turned out to be a pair of pink socks and a stocking cap.