Monday, April 26, 2010
Social Life on Horizon?
Sorry the posts on this blog have been so sparse. To summarize, we've been either sick or just plain exhausted over the last few months. Add finals to that and you'll maybe understand why I haven't had a creative bone in my body. Sure, I have lots of other bones, as I've been trying desperately to learn in Anatomy / Physiology. But no creative ones (though I've always adored the term "xyphoid process". And I love the beauty of the sphenoid bone. Very creative).
So, at great risk of jinxing it, last night we had a glimmer of what our future might hold in terms of Mac and sleep. We had a sleepless and desperate Saturday night / Sunday morning, followed by lots of enforced napping and last night, a full 12-hour night with only two feedings. Today, no less than three hours of napping and he put himself to sleep just now at 6:30PM.
The trick for the boy, it seems, is lots of napping and an early bedtime and no deviation from this, even if one of us has to leave the party. I know my family must roll their eyes at how obsessive we've become about his sleep, but the byproduct of his NOT sleeping have been neglected pets, foggy, uncreative brains, half-assed and shabby attempts at maintaining the household, and an unhappy marriage with us snapping at each other all the time. Not to mention the low self-esteems from missing CrossFit and reaching constantly for quick calories just to stay awake.
So now that we're heading in the direction of something that works, you can see why we'd cling to it like a life preserver. And things are definitely looking up. This kid loves his sleep and we love when he sleeps and we love when we sleep and then we love when we're all happily rested and awake and having fun together. I'm starting to have daydreams; if he is going to continue to sleep this successfully, it's possible we may be able to install a sitter and actually leave the house. Together.
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Thursday, April 22, 2010
Sleep Update
Mac just put himself to sleep. He'd had a bath and a good nurse and a cuddle and even though it was about an hour ahead of schedule he seemed tired, so I put him into his bed. I was completely ready for the screaming but it never came. He gazed up at the window, sucking his thumb. So I left the room (normally I sit by the bed to console and kiss and hug and to insist firmly that he lay back down). Over the baby monitor I heard him talking a little to himself and now... silence but for the deep breathing of sleep.
Next step: through the night but for one feed? And sleeping in until at least 6:00AM? I don't want to be greedy but please, Universe. It's been nine months. Pretty, pretty please.
Next step: through the night but for one feed? And sleeping in until at least 6:00AM? I don't want to be greedy but please, Universe. It's been nine months. Pretty, pretty please.
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Monday, April 19, 2010
Dear Mac: Nine Months Old
Nine months old seems so grown up. I mean, you're definitely not an infant anymore. These are the non-infant things you're getting up to this month:- You look like a little boy now. A brawny child with a big blue eyes, gapped teeth and a blond brush cut punctuated by crazy long, wild hairs that suggest just a hint of glorious baby mullet to come.
- You took your first steps last week. You tried it, you thought it was cool, then you shelved it.
- You did the same with stairs. Just not that into it yet.
- You're eating a bit more, but it has to be big people food and not on a spoon for some reason (I must have traumatized you with my, um, enthusiastic feeding style). Now I mostly feed you with my fingers. It gets messy for both of us. Favourite snacks: banana and puffed wheat and whatever happens to be mashed into the floor any given day (What? It's strengthening your immune system).
- (Or not) You have another cold. Or allergies? Anyway, it sucks. We had you going down by yourself and almost sleeping through the night but for two feedings and if it weren't for the buckets of snot threatening to drown you every time you lie down, I'm sure you'd be a great sleeper by now. We'll have to start all over again, but I don't care. I just want you to feel better.
- You love to be outside, on the move, going places, doing things. This house is so boring already. You've explored every nook and cranny and opened every drawer and chewed on every bit of wire/ electronic /furniture / household pet. Time for the wider world.
- That said, you're still not that into playing with other kids. We went over to a dinner party the other night and you were pretty content to play by yourself despite the tempting chaos of older children around you. One older blond girl made you smile particularly brightly, and you were obsessed with the strawberry blonde locks of another little girl. So if they're girls, you'll pay attention? Huh.
- You have a great sense of humour, with some caveats. We can get you laughing if it's new and innovative. If you've seen it before, forget it. Exception: you pull an animal card off of your wall (where I stuck them with velcro) and if it's the bee, I bzzzz-bzzz-bzzzz into your neck. Cow is moo-mooo-mooo on your cheeks. Horse is a swish of bangs into your face. Hen is peck-peck-peck on your tummy. It makes you lose it every time (I hope you don't reach the zebra card anytime soon, cuz I'm drawing a blank on that one).
- You don't like to be separated from us. You throw temper tantrums if I leave the room (actually, if I leave your immediate vicinity) and, oh, how I love your dramatics. Eyes screwed up, mouth pinched, face beet-red as you try to work up the best mad you can. And if I laugh at you, you throw yourself screaming, face first on the floor. Usually this means you mash your lips against your teeth and so now you have renewed purpose and glare at me accusingly, see what you did?! I think it's all high-larious.
- The tub is still the best thing ever. Yesterday you learned to belly flop yourself through the water. You almost drowned a few times and, well, I let you. You got the hang of keeping your head up pretty quick. You even experimented with putting your face in the water. Swimming lessons are in your future.
- We still read to you even if you'd rather be across the room emptying the shelves or dismantling the baby monitor again. Eventually you will love books as much as we do, whether you want to or not.
- I say this poem to you every night:
Now I lay my head to rest,I pray that all the world be blessed.Moon so high and twinkling stars,Shine upon me from afar.The world of dreams will dance and sing,And to me sweetest stories bring.And when I wake to greet the day,The sun so bright will light my way.
- I adapted it from a pagan prayer I found on the Internet. I took out all the "lord of dreams", "lady moon" and "sister star" stuff. If you must know, gender assignment of natural elements bothers me. And yes, I read tarot. And yes, I get the hypocrisy. You can nail me on it when you're 16.
- You are so cute I could die. Your smile melts me. I adore you. I love to hug and kiss and cuddle you. You're not super cuddly back, but you like to be held and once in awhile you'll snuggle into me, or stroke my arm or play with my earlobes and then my heart bursts. Until you bite me and the moment's so over.
Love you Doodles,Mommy
- You look like a little boy now. A brawny child with a big blue eyes, gapped teeth and a blond brush cut punctuated by crazy long, wild hairs that suggest just a hint of glorious baby mullet to come.
- You took your first steps last week. You tried it, you thought it was cool, then you shelved it.
- You did the same with stairs. Just not that into it yet.
- You're eating a bit more, but it has to be big people food and not on a spoon for some reason (I must have traumatized you with my, um, enthusiastic feeding style). Now I mostly feed you with my fingers. It gets messy for both of us. Favourite snacks: banana and puffed wheat and whatever happens to be mashed into the floor any given day (What? It's strengthening your immune system).
- (Or not) You have another cold. Or allergies? Anyway, it sucks. We had you going down by yourself and almost sleeping through the night but for two feedings and if it weren't for the buckets of snot threatening to drown you every time you lie down, I'm sure you'd be a great sleeper by now. We'll have to start all over again, but I don't care. I just want you to feel better.
- You love to be outside, on the move, going places, doing things. This house is so boring already. You've explored every nook and cranny and opened every drawer and chewed on every bit of wire/ electronic /furniture / household pet. Time for the wider world.
- That said, you're still not that into playing with other kids. We went over to a dinner party the other night and you were pretty content to play by yourself despite the tempting chaos of older children around you. One older blond girl made you smile particularly brightly, and you were obsessed with the strawberry blonde locks of another little girl. So if they're girls, you'll pay attention? Huh.
- You have a great sense of humour, with some caveats. We can get you laughing if it's new and innovative. If you've seen it before, forget it. Exception: you pull an animal card off of your wall (where I stuck them with velcro) and if it's the bee, I bzzzz-bzzz-bzzzz into your neck. Cow is moo-mooo-mooo on your cheeks. Horse is a swish of bangs into your face. Hen is peck-peck-peck on your tummy. It makes you lose it every time (I hope you don't reach the zebra card anytime soon, cuz I'm drawing a blank on that one).
- You don't like to be separated from us. You throw temper tantrums if I leave the room (actually, if I leave your immediate vicinity) and, oh, how I love your dramatics. Eyes screwed up, mouth pinched, face beet-red as you try to work up the best mad you can. And if I laugh at you, you throw yourself screaming, face first on the floor. Usually this means you mash your lips against your teeth and so now you have renewed purpose and glare at me accusingly, see what you did?! I think it's all high-larious.
- The tub is still the best thing ever. Yesterday you learned to belly flop yourself through the water. You almost drowned a few times and, well, I let you. You got the hang of keeping your head up pretty quick. You even experimented with putting your face in the water. Swimming lessons are in your future.
- We still read to you even if you'd rather be across the room emptying the shelves or dismantling the baby monitor again. Eventually you will love books as much as we do, whether you want to or not.
- I say this poem to you every night:
Now I lay my head to rest,I pray that all the world be blessed.Moon so high and twinkling stars,Shine upon me from afar.The world of dreams will dance and sing,And to me sweetest stories bring.And when I wake to greet the day,The sun so bright will light my way.
- I adapted it from a pagan prayer I found on the Internet. I took out all the "lord of dreams", "lady moon" and "sister star" stuff. If you must know, gender assignment of natural elements bothers me. And yes, I read tarot. And yes, I get the hypocrisy. You can nail me on it when you're 16.
- You are so cute I could die. Your smile melts me. I adore you. I love to hug and kiss and cuddle you. You're not super cuddly back, but you like to be held and once in awhile you'll snuggle into me, or stroke my arm or play with my earlobes and then my heart bursts. Until you bite me and the moment's so over.
Love you Doodles,
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Marital Conversations
Working: (hands Trevor a pair of shoes to put on Mac)TREV: Why don't you just make me solve the Rubik's Cube before we leave?
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Monday, April 12, 2010
Redhead
WORKING: Do you think I'd look good as a redhead?TREVOR: Yeah, I think you'd look good.WORKING: I might go red next appointment.TREVOR: How red?
WORKING: I don't know. Not too, too light but definitely red. I get freckles in the summer so it might be a good summer look.TREVOR: You've been red before.WORKING: Yeah, but more burgundy. You know, darker.TREVOR: Yeah. And I don't think dark works for you.WORKING: Yeah, I think definitely lighter.TREVOR: It'd look good.WORKING: Wait, did you just say you don't think dark works for me?TREVOR: Huh?
WORKING: You just said you don't like me in dark hair.TREVOR: No!WORKING: You did so!TREVOR: No! I meant not as much!WORKING: You hate me in dark hair and I've had dark hair for years. Most of our relationship in fact.TREVOR: That's not what I meant! I like your dark hair!WORKING: Wow, you really screwed yourself there, buddy.TREVOR: Well at least someone's screwing me.(pause)WORKING: Good one. High-fives.
WORKING: I don't know. Not too, too light but definitely red. I get freckles in the summer so it might be a good summer look.
WORKING: You just said you don't like me in dark hair.
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Sunday, April 04, 2010
Movement and Progress
This kid moves. This kid moves all of the time. If he's awake, he's moving. He stands more than he sits, lowering himself only to crawl over to the next standing opportunity.
He moves so much that he literally can't stop. He'll be so tired that his eyes go red and bleary and his yawns come from his toes, and when I put him on his bed he pops his thumb in his mouth, shuts his eyes and flops over on his face. But then his body starts again, legs pushing and digging, seemingly of their own accord. He's moving, he's moving, he's moving, and I swear I see in his tired, tired eyes the sheer frustration of, "oh no, not again."
Then he's standing again. He's frustrated. He cries. He tries again - thumb in, eyes closed, nose dive into the blankets. But no, his legs betray him again and he's now at the end of the bed. Again - eyes shut, thumb in, face plant. No go - now he's across the room.
I have successfully taught him to find his own comfort in his thumb, to relate his bed with sleep. I just haven't managed to help him learn how to put his own little body to sleep. Nursing worked because at least it gave his body something else to focus on.
But obviously we have to move beyond that. Today I forcibly restrained him, actually pinned him to the bed and he screamed and screamed. Then within five minutes, he drifted off to sleep and I swear his expression was one of pure relief. No rocking, no nursing, no crawling, no standing, hitting or biting.
He's been asleep for over an hour.
For the next nap, I'm going to try just the pressure of my hands, no full body hug. I have faith. We're getting close.
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CURRENT MOON