When I had my son everyone, including our pediatrician, Warned me about the witching hour. That glorious time of day where your newborn is fussy and it is nearly impossible to console, let alone get anything done because you are wearing holes in the hallway or doing squats while singing. Really, doing whatever it takes to keep your baby from crying, counting the minutes until your husband gets home and takes over while you cook dinner. As the witching hour phase passed we entered a new phase, the phase no one warned me about! For me, it was a much less enjoyable stage - the one where my husband and I were both back to work… and someone still had to make dinner.