Conversations

Little man had a lot to tell me at half past six this morning after a long weekend with daddy.

'B a big boy. Mummy a lady. Daddy a big man. B grow da big man [B will grow up into a big man.] B is your friend. Hide, mummy, a big drag[on] come. A big green drag[on]. Mummy's feet in. Daddy got cars film on his phone. Daddy bumped his car in the ice. Daddy broke his old car. Daddy got a new car. B get da bogey in mine nose. B squash dat [my boob, that is]. My wood hammer is downdestairs. My wood hammer. Go downdestairs get mine wood hammer. Warm milk, mummy. WARM MILK, MUMMY!'

I tried to tell him that mummy could also be referred to as a woman, since I am not a member of the nobility. But he wasn't having it. He is also adamant that he is not a little boy any more. And daddy did in fact write his car off in the ice last week and have to buy a new one.

Here be dragons

'Good  morning little man,' I say, as the boy climbs into my bed for a snuggle.
'A crab, mummy,' he declares. 'Crab pic [nip] mummy's finger.'
'Oh, a crab? Ouch, nip, nip.' The crab then has to nip little man's finger, of course, and his nose.
Next up is a visit from the dragon. It might be red, green or blue. The green one always reminds me of the Green Dragon at Bywater. (Short cuts make for long delays, but inns make longer ones...LotR, yes I'm a nerd.) Anyway, it's beware any exposed toes.
'Tent. Hide de tent. [Let's hide in a tent made out of the duvet.]' Mummy has to hold up the duvet over us, while little man declares that it is raining.
'Pitter, patter,' I say, over and over again. Little man puts on his imaginary boots and puts up his imaginary umbrella so he can go out in the rain.
Then the sun comes out: 'Pop.' The sun always comes out with a pop, because in The Very Hungry Caterpillar the caterpillar emerges from the egg with a pop when the sun comes out.
'Bite mummy's finger.'
'No, don't bite mummy's finger please. Be nice to mummy.' Cue a little sigh and a big hug. 'Hug mummy. Mummy hug me.' He still tries to bite my finger.
Next up: 'Mummy sing.' Mummy begins a rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle. 'Stop.' Mummy stops mid-sentence. 'Go.' 'Stop.' And so on until the song is finished. 'Again.'
I start to sing Rock-a-Bye Baby.
'[C]ome on, mummy, [s]tand up. Me de baby.' This wasn't part of my plan for remaining horizontal as long as possible. I have to stand up and rock little man, who does his baby impression - half-closed eyes, scrunched up arms and lots of little sighs - before I drop him at the appropriate point. Well not really drop him, obviously. Not quite.
'[C]ome on, mummy. Down de stairs. Play de cars.'
Snuggle time is over.

Bed hopping

Before I get on to the subject of sleep, and the lack thereof, I just have to tell you that today in the park, little man rubbed two sticks together and declared that he had made fire. No idea where that has come from. I think he's been secretly watching Ray Mears.

Anyway, sleep. I like it. A lot of it. Pre-child I would happily go to bed at 9pm and get up around 7am. Then there was all the usual baby shenanigans. At ten months, he 'slept through' for the first time and gradually started to do so quite reliably. For months - maybe seven or eight. I allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security, congratulate myself for never having considered any sleep training methods when he was a baby and came to believe that he would continue to sleep twelve hours straight for ever.

Yeah, right. He's a toddler. He still has one tooth to come. He's learning to talk. He's trying to work out what it's all about. It being the meaning of life and other momentous issues such as why mummy's bracelets always fall off his arm. Sometimes he wakes up thirsty. Usually he just wants a cuddle, and who can blame him? That's why I'm all for co-sleeping, in theory.

Unfortunately, he's fidgety and I'm a light sleeper, which is not a good combination. And I find that a tired mummy is one less able to remain patient in the face of toddler upsets and pestering. So after a few months of putting up with his arrival in my bed in the middle of the night, I've started returning him to his own bed. A couple of times he has bounced straight back up again, but he hasn't yet persisted enough to turn it into an issue. In general, I try to avoid anything becoming an 'issue' because you only start worrying about it and questioning what you're doing wrong. So we'll see how the current approach goes. And I'll try to go to bed early too, just in case.

Snoozing

Well, it's taken a couple of weeks in the big boy's bed but he has finally realised he can get up by himself in the morning. And come and find mummy, which is fine. And run her over with the Fat Controller's car or a tractor or whatever other mode of motorised transport he took to bed the previous night, which is not so good. With this realisation have come some earlier mornings. Previously, he was sleeping past seven most mornings. This week it's been mostly half six, culminating in a cheery 'Mummy!' at 5am this morning. Followed by much fidgeting and digging of tiny toes into my ribs.

I realise I'm very lucky compared with some folks that my little man does now usually sleep a good twelve hours solid. And, just to rub it in, this morning I got so fed up of his constant fidgeting I carried him back to his own bed at half five, tucked him in, said night night and he actually stayed there and went back to sleep until quarter past seven. I was rather surprised.

Daytime naps still usually require a trip in the car though. Yesterday, I took him out for an hour's walk to get some fresh air and sunshine, thinking he would doze off in the buggy. (I couldn't be bothered carrying him, ok; I'm not supermum!) Anyway, he whinged and whined and was still wide awake when we got home. I stuck him in the car and two minutes down the Daresbury Expressway he was fast asleep.

That was the day I had the funny dream about barbecuing. Apologies to facebook people who read it on my status. I carried the little man inside and thought, bugger the housework I'm having a snooze too. I duly dozed off only to be startled awake when I dreamed I was having a barbecue and that I burned my hand on the tongs. Yes, I'm that clumsy. Clumsy enough to burn myself in my sleep with an imaginary kitchen utensil.

What I wanted to write...

...was this: Imagine my surprise when I suggested to little man that an afternoon snooze would be a good idea and he curled up in bed with me and actually fell asleep!

Unfortunately, what he actually did was stand on my head, poke me in the eye, pinch my tummy, rattle the blinds and try to insert The Tiger who Came to Tea up my left nostril.

Let's just hope he sleeps tonight. Last night it was a 12.45am wake-up followed by a 6am start to the day. And of course I didn't go to bed as early as I knew I should. And tonight I don't even have any wine to help me wind down. Yes, I have run out again due to very poor grocery planning.

Ho hum. Still on the subject of sleeping arrangements my new tent arrived: http://www.terra-nova.co.uk/Brand/Wild_Country/Tents/Halo_43_Green_.html. So now I can go and sleep badly and be woken at dawn in the beautiful countryside.

Sleep is for wimps

Just when you think you can't get any more tired whilst continuing to function like a normal human being, your little one is subjected to the sudden appearance of molars.

Last night: I went to bed around 10pm, read for a bit (I am re-reading the Lord of the Rings for the three-dozenth time because that's what I do when I can't think what else to read), then put my light off and attempt to go to sleep. Midnight arrives. I am still half awake. Little man starts crying. I stick some Bonjela on his gums and lie down with him in my bed. Around an hour later I think he is asleep enough to pop him back in his cot. I would co-sleep if I could but the slightest thing wakes me. Even when STBE husband and I were actually acting like partners we didn't sleep in the same bed. Strange, I know, but we disturbed each other's sleep.

Then just after 5am little man wakes crying again. I try everything to get him to settle for another hour or two's sleep. I give him a bottle of milk, paracetamol, Bonjela, teething powder (baby crack). I walk up and down the landing with him, rocking and humming. I sit in bed rocking him. I lie down and cuddle him. No. He wants me to read him The Tiger who Came to Tea or open the blinds so he can look out of the window for the dog across the road. So we go downstairs and, for once, I stick CBeebies on so we can both stare at it like zombies. Because despite all his crying and struggling, little man is still knackered. I watch the Teletubbies with him for the first time and find myself wondering how on earth they could have called one Tinky Winky. I find myself deeply irritated by the Tweenies.

I go to a playgroup. I come home. Ben sleeps in the car. For an hour and a half. This is my half-hour cat-napping baby. I go to work. I knit. I work (really, I do). I drink tea. I attempt to not yawn too frequently. I come home. I go on the computer and watch an episode of Robin Hood, check my facebook, write my blog, check my email and catch the latest posts on the Baby Led Weaning forum.

It is now 10pm. Why am I not in bed? Pre-child I was usually in bed by 9.30pm. Now, when I really need an early night I don't do it. Because I have learnt that it's perfectly possible to function on an ever-decreasing amount of sleep. Sleep is for wimps.

A glass of wine

When STBE husband left, my alcohol intake went down dramatically. It was usually him who bought it previously. I took up knitting and was therefore too busy to guzzle. I really only drank when with family or friends a couple of times a week.

Now I am feeling quite stressed and very tired, juggling little man, work, everyday stuff, communications with STBE husband and the occasional bit of me time. And I keep having to make emergency trips to the shops for wine on the way home from work.

So here's the conundrum: should I just stock up so it's there whenever I fancy it or should I try to resist? Should I bother putting pressure on myself to not drink at a time like this? Or should I take control and decide to save money and not put my health at risk just because I am going through a difficult time?

Right now I am supping a glass of a half-price Chilean cabernet sauvignon from Tesco Express near work. I got home from work to be told that little man had been left to cry for ten minutes when he was put to bed. He has resisted going to bed a few times in the last week, but it is highly unusual. He is usually zonked out by 7pm. Last night I read him books and cuddled up with him in my bed until he was fast asleep and transferred him to his cot at 8.30pm. I believe that if he is upset he needs security and reassurance. I do not believe that crying himself to sleep is a good association to make: going to bed should be a lovely, cosy thing. And I know from experience that this phase will pass in its own good time.

So I am off to fill my glass while I ponder how I can remain in control of the manner in which my little man is brought up at the same time as earning some money and handing him over to his wider clan members. And after that glass I am definitely having an early night in case whatever is bothering him wakes him up before 6am.

Sleep

I need it more than I need the catharsis of blogging tonight. Little man and I were supposed to be staying at a friend's overnight. But said little man still hadn't settled by 9.30pm, which is unprecedented. Having had only one glass of wine by that point I decided to bring him home. And I'm really hoping his late night sees him sleep in past this morning's point of 5.45am - although I am aware it doesn't always work like that.

Anyway, so you don't feel like I'm selling you short feel free to tune in for some entertainment to The Mom Song on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIRkNK8xEHo.

Good night... bugs etc.

Sea air

I'm hoping a dose of it might help little fella sleep longer. This morning he woke at 5.45am sounding immediately upset. Not the sort of sniffing and fidgeting that means you can ignore him for a few minutes. It was instant howling. So we had a snuggle in my bed and he went back to sleep. At 7am.

So that made us late, but we eventually went to Crosby for some breeze and drizzle. And beachcombing for holey bricks. And a walk that justified the cake (coffee and walnut, cafe in Little Crosby not very friendly to two mums and two tots but old tractor on lawn very exciting).

When I was a kid we would often go and stay at my grandmother's near Llandudno. The sea air there used to make me really tired. I remember fighting to stay awake on summer evenings but having to give in and go to bed far earlier than normal. So I'm hoping it might help little man make it past 6.30am. As for me, I don't need sea air to feel knackered these days.

Before and after

Before becoming a mum:

1. All that stuff about lack of sleep is surely an exaggeration. Everyone knows children need lots of sleep.
2. I'm not having a house full of brightly coloured plastic.
3. Children should always sit down to eat.
4. I won't need to babyproof. He will just have to learn what is off limits.
5. I can do some freelance work at home while he naps or plays.
6. I don't want him watching television.
7. The best place for a child to be raised is in a home where there are two parents.

After:

1. Tell him that at 6am. Or at midnight when he's teething. He didn't regularly sleep through (ie past 5am) until he was 10 months old.
2. It's everywhere. And he likes it.
3. Until he gets fed up of sitting still, manages to squirm out of the highchair straps and tries to climb out. Or helps himself from the fridge.
4. He doesn't understand the word no, wanted to spend all day climbing the stairs as soon as he could crawl, likes eating fake coal and is fascinated by plug sockets.
5. Ha ha.
6. I do want 10 minutes to put my feet up every now and again. Like once a week...
7. Just shows how you can make all the plans you like but you can't account for other people.

Self-destructive habits

No, don't worry. I'm referring to why oh why I don't go to bed early when I'm really tired and I know I'm going to be woken up at 6am. And why oh why does my little man decide to wake up at 6am when he's still so obviously tired and really grizzly until he has a nap around 9am? Clamped-to-my-hip grizzly. I'm hoping a new blackout-lined curtain might make a difference in his east-facing little room. But I think he might just be a natural early waker. That's how I would usually describe myself. But it feels like there is such a big difference between waking up at six-something and waking up at seven-something.

But then the little man does now sleep through the night. Which makes me much luckier than some of my fellow parents. It took him until around 10 months to stop waking for a feed in the night but he got there in his own time. Of course, he was only doing it for comfort. And what is wrong with that exactly?

Tonight I can go to bed knowing I will not be woken at 6am because little man has gone to stay with daddy. Which means I will probably end up going to bed even later. And I'll be having a glass of wine, or two, just for comfort.

Hello world!

That's what my son and I say when we look out of my bedroom window first thing in the morning. Well, I say it in response to his wave. Since the wave is to no-one in particular I assume he's saying 'hello world'. He can't actually say it as he's 14 months old. Which is why he's still fascinated with looking out of the window at ordinary things like houses and cars and trees and the odd starling. Baby-signing parents please insert signs as you read. Ben signs 'bird'. Lots. Often when he's just seeing a tree (go on, you can remember tree can't you?) as he obviously thinks this is where there should be birds.

Anyway, hello world. This is my first blog entry. Now I have to go away and think about what the hell I'm doing writing a blog (thanks K) and why I'm not in bed yet as we'll be saying hello world at around 6am tomorrow.