There’s no excuse, really, for the long absence. I haven’t downed tools in a huff or anything, I just haven’t felt much like having a presence here. That sounds somewhat mystical, but is not meant to be. Since Christmas there has been One Thing After Another, including query-norovirus, query-teething, a few days off work, several busy days at work, and the allotment, amongst other things.
One of the other things was my boss forcing me to go into London for a meeting with Fizzy Drinks Inc.[1] at 6.30pm last Monday. I resisted this as hard as I could, on the grounds that Bernard has never gone to bed without me in his life, but what seems like an enormous deal to me means nothing to the boss, who has a daughter not much older than the boy. But she wouldn’t be the Director of Operations if such things as childcare were allowed to get in her way. So I kissed him goodbye before teatime, and headed off for my train feeling mutinous, leaving Pete in charge.
Pete, of course, did just fine without me. Bernard was asleep by 7.30, which is his normal time for going to sleep. He woke shortly before I got home (at a quarter to midnight), and wouldn’t be settled by Pete; but at least he didn’t have to wait long for mama. Theoretically this frees me up to gad about the town whenever I want; in practice, I don’t want.
The boy’s sleep has been horrendous since Christmas, and the number of night-wakings increased last week. Mum has helpfully advised me to try leaving him when he wakes up longer to see if eventually he will sleep on his own. The older he gets the harder the habit will be to break. It is not as though you are deserting him, he knows very well that he is secure and you love him. He will test your boundaries even if not consciously.
Yes, Mum. The reason he knows he is secure and I love him, is because I am responsive to his needs. I do wait, as long as I consider to be okay (as long as I can stand it); but I think if he wakes up and cries, then he needs comfort, and I don’t think denying him comfort is a good thing to do. I am happy for him to know that the boundaries include me going to him if he needs me in the night. Before Christmas, he was sleeping well, often waking only once in the night; and it’s because I know that when he is settled in his world, he can sleep well, that I know when he’s waking, it’s because he has a need. The problem is that whenever I grumble about being tired, I receive advice, criticism, or both. The answer? Quit moaning.
Today I gave him his first haircut. He has beautiful blond curls at the back of his head, but it doesn’t take much for them to turn into a matted mess of crazy geek-hair. So I purchased a pair of sharp hairdressing scissors, and we sat on the landing while Pete read The Cat In The Hat very slowly, and I trimmed the back of his head. I think I did a reasonable job: it looks neat and tidy, but I didn’t take too much off. There is still a little bit of geek about him, but whether that’s the hair or the heritage is hard to tell.
He is turning into a real little boy. He is in his second pair of shoes, and tries to run, but can’t yet. He likes to walk, though. When we turn the corner by the garages on the way home, he starts insisting on getting OWT OWT OWT of the pushchair, to walk the rest of the way. Preferably via every car on the street, each of which must be touched once with a fingertip. Owing to a late-night nosebleed, he ran out of sleepsuits and we had to rush out and buy an actual pair of actual pyjamas, with a picture of cars on the front (Sainsbos didn’t have sleepsuits in his size). He looks less babyish in the actual pair of actual pyjamas. He is learning lots of useful non-nouns, such as more, up, down and please, some of which are identifiable by people who are not even his parents. Many of his words begin with D or B, whether they are supposed to or not (e.g. bappy, which is what you are if you know it and you clap your hands, stamp your feet, etc). I mentioned his wicked laugh the other day, didn’t I? He is so much fun.
- not their real name [↩]
Sorry, I know this is advice (which you specifically didn’t want!) but have you got a copy of the “No Cry Sleep Solution” book by Elizabeth Pantley (I think there might also be a toddler specific version)? Was recommended to me when my youngest was a lot smaller and had colic and there were some useful tips and tricks in there – it’s recommended quite a bit on Mumsnet as well.
I have it, although I have a feeling I’ve lent it to someone. I also had the toddler version from the library; maybe I should go and borrow that again. It is definitely time to take action of one sort or another.
We’ve been having non-sleep issues too. In general, if Tom is still crying after about 30 seconds, he isn’t going to stop until soothed/changed/fed/watered as appropriate. This fits just fine with me, as it takes at least 120 seconds at 2.30am for me to move from catatonia to just-about-functioning-enough-to-shift-my-sorry-but-to-his-bedside-and-blearily-find-out-what-the-problem-is. Tom knows this and will persist for that amount of time if he feels that the situation calls for it. If the situation will resolve itself by turning over and clutching Miffy more tightly, then that is exactly what he’ll do.
The night waking seems to be a product of teething and growing pains (it must be pretty uncomfortable if your bones and joints are changing on a constant basis when you are growing so quickly) exacerbated by a cold for the last few days. A spoonful of MediSed seems to ease his discomfort, coupled with yet another round or two of twinkostar (think nursery rhymes) and adjustment of bed covers.