spicetart

Sleepless

My formerly good sleeper has stopped sleeping.  Much.  during the day she'll sleep for 30 minutes at a time.  At night, anywhere from 1-3 hours.  Only nursing her gets her back to sleep, otherwise she screams and thrashes about.

It feels like torture to be sleep deprived, especially when waking up after being deeply asleep.  And it's frustrating to know that we were in the good sleep zone, that she could put herself to sleep and sleep for 6 hours at a time - and now, it's crap.

The book I'm reading: "At four months babies should be able to sleep about eight hours at night without a feeding".  Screw you Sleep Lady.

So I'm bitching about it because it sucks.  And I'm eating chocolate.

Mother of the Year

I won't be winning any awards today.  While I was busy trying to take pictures of Ivy on our walk today, some woman saved Scarlett's life.  We were on a 30 foot foot-bridge that has a ramp up and a ramp down.  I was taking pictures of Ivy while Scarlett hung out in the stroller and all of a sudden, this woman rushes past me.  I look up and she has stopped the stroller from flying down the other side of the bridge.  I ran over and thanked her profusely and she gave me the "oh my God you are the worst mother ever!" look.  I was horribly ashamed and gathered up my kids and walked quickly away, the whole time the woman and her companion glaring at me.

Yikes.  Please don't call CPS.

The good news is that the pictures turned out well.

Give me strength.

"What's enon!  Mommy! Mommy!"

I have no idea what she is saying.  I get about 85% of what she is saying but 'enon'?  No clue.  I sometimes look into her eyes to see if I can see the tiny demon inside. See this picture?  There's a demon in there somewhere.

Ivy's speaking in tongues again, and squishing her breakfast, oatmeal, between her fingers, spreading it recklessly over the table.  "Dirty! Dirty!"  She complains, she suddenly hates to have dirty hands even though she purposefully made them that way when she squished oatmeal between her fingers.  But now it's my problem.

And then the freak out over the "fly" that's landed on her arm.  I calmly explain that the "fly" is really a piece of oatmeal that she has flung there during her assault on her breakfast.  She looks at me as if to say "You may be right but I'm going to freak out anyway".

The egg gets no better treatment, torn into small pieces and then squished, a fine sprinkling decorating the smeared, dried-on oatmeal.  Some days she'll eat an egg in 2 minutes, and even ask for more.  Today, the egg is the enemy and the breakfast table is the battle ground.

She's taken to storing food in her cheek, and it's not even that it's food she doesn't like or won't swallow, it's just all of a sudden a good place to keep the last of the oatmeal that made it into her mouth.  Twenty minutes after she has gotten down from the table, I'll notice it still in there when she's talking.  Here you have to be really careful.  Calling attention to the cheek food may result in her showing it to me by spitting it out.

The books say that my toddler is engaged in tactile exploration and sensory experimentation, and who the heck would discourage that??  They, however, do not have to clean up my dining room floor.

What NOT to say.

Chris's company always has a holiday party in January, and they always do it right.  Lots of food, music and liquor - works for me! This year they reserved Foreign Cinema for the night, and the bar next door (which we never went to because we turn into pumpkins at midnight), and it was lovely.  All the good wine and cocktails and freshly shucked oysters we could eat.  Plus passed tapas.  Yes, passed, with full sized forks and little plates.  The food was great but talk about awkward, we were trying to eat while juggling a plate, fork and wine glass - watch out Cirque de Soleil!

So.  As we were waiting at the raw bar for some more of the aforementioned oysters, Chris said hi to a work acquaintance and introduced me to his girlfriend.  After exchanging hellos, the woman put her hand in front of my belly and made that goofy "baby" face people make, like "Hey there pregnant lady with a little baby inside".  Giving her an opportunity to redeem herself, I tilted my head and said "Pardon me?" like, I have no idea what you could possibly mean.  So she did it again.  Hand, goofy face and now "Expecting?".  Of course, I couldn't play dumb again, so I laughed it off, "Well, yeah, two months ago."  The smile never left her face but she was frozen as she searched for something that might in anyway make the moment just go away.  She did the best thing and said nothing, and we went on our way.  Sigh.

So then.  This little guy, a guy I had seen earlier in the night eating at the raw bar (there was no real room to eat, just a place to get oysters), talking loudly on his cell phone.  We walked by him a bit later that evening and he said "Congratulations".  Yep, for the baby.  My unborn baby.  Sigh.

So to sum up.  Unless a woman volunteers the fact that she is pregnant, or you see a baby actually emerging from the womb, it's best to just avoid the whole subject altogether.  I guess that answers the question, Do I look fat in this?

To Cry or Not to Cry?

If your baby cries in her crib, and no one is there to see her, will she fall asleep?

I know, I know, the thought of a tiny, cute baby crying alone in her crib is such a sad thought.  Pick up that crying baby, Mama, or she will grow up to think that she can't rely on you for love and support.  Right?

Or.

Letting her cry helps her learn how to put herself to sleep, a very valuable skill that will mean you are helping your baby get what they truly need: enough sleep.

The truth is, my baby cries whether she is laying in her crib trying to go to sleep or if I am rocking her trying to get her to go to sleep.  And we're talking ear drum shattering crying.  I keep earplugs next to the rocker just for these occassions.  So if my baby cries for 10 minutes when she is alone in the crib, and 30 minutes when she is rocked back to sleep, am I still a terrible mom to let her cry by herself?  Oy.

At 6 months, Ivy still wakes up twice a night, sometimes as many as 3 times, and I still get up and nurse her back down.  Basically I choose between Chris, me and Ivy being awake for 30 mintues while he rocks her (screaming) back to sleep, and me nursing her (quietly sucking) for 10 minutes and her falling right back to sleep.  For the peace alone (and so that the neighbors don't fire-bomb our house), I nurse her back to sleep most nights. 

But the day is coming when that baby will just have to learn that the milk cart isn't coming by her crib at 3:30 a.m. every night.  No more big boob from heaven, nope, the milk shack is closing it's doors.  One day that'll happen, I'll get all hard core on her.  But for now, I indulge her, and me.  She's still so tiny and sweet and, as a friend reminded me recently, it's still the most tender moment of my day.  And, as I am constantly reminded by parents of teenagers, I try to remember to really enjoy this time.  All of a sudden, they say, your precious one is all grown up and she'll want you to drop her off a block away from school and won't let you hug her and smooch her neck and bite her toes.  So yeah, for now, here comes the milk cart.  Ding ding.