Fighting it.

June's wailing. She's not sad, neglected or in danger in any way, she's just plum annoyed. I'm making her nap. Again. I can't complain about her reluctance to sleep in the afternoon, especially after her best night to date. She went 10-and-a-half hours straight -- 7 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. -- her first through-the-night sleep.

The baby books and Web sites have been telling me that "sleeping through the night" at her age (14 weeks) is considered a six hour stretch. I'm sorry, but both of us waking at 3 a.m. for a meal and a wardrobe change is not "through the night." Not that I mind, in fact I love getting up to see her and get a little progress report. I just don't appreciate being lied to by the baby blog lobby. It's like getting the school spirit award on athletics banquet night. That's not a real award. I see through your ruse, jerks.

Infant sleep is a peculiar thing I'm finding. June is capable of snoozing through some pretty raucous stuff: dogs barking, phones ringing, pine branches falling inches away from her bedroom window... but if I blow my nose, it will rocket her out of the deepest of slumbers. I've gotten quite good at blowing my nose softly or not at all. I caught myself recently with a piece of Kleenex jammed up one nostril. God knows how long it had been there.

I've had conversations with Greg, my parents, siblings and friends about how strange it is when babies fight naps. Clearly she's tired -- she's been power yawning for the last hour -- and to resist sleep when swaddled in a fleece blanket and tucked into the plush, rocking arms of a swing that I liken to an ether-soaked hug is nonsensical. Conversely, I think back to just this last Saturday when Greg and I met some friends at a bar for an afternoon beer and June fell asleep in my arms as I was doing a borderline violent bouncy sway. I don't know how anyone could fall asleep to that, much less not vomit in terror, but she was down for the count.

With the exception of that little recent three-week hiccup where June was sick and up at all hours of the night, it's been a while since I've felt exhausted myself. I've adjusted to the odd hours babies keep and have felt pretty good. But I've also barred myself from reclining at any semblance of an obtuse angle for fear of a pass out so hard I might hurt myself. Stay upright, stay awake. Fight it.

June's finally sleeping after exhausting all her stay-awake tricks. The squirm, the bellow, the Rodney Dangerfield-face rooting fest, the blow-out-the-diaper-to-buy-20-more-minutes-of-awake-time. She's deep in it, too. Finally.

Ok, we've been experiencing blizzard conditions and rampant power outages throughout the area all day today, but NOW the sun decides to come out of hiding and shine its white-hot rays of awakeness right into her wee eyeball? What the hell.

But wait... she still sleeps.

Don't fight it.