The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
–Dorothy Nevill
Today So Far
After the last post, I felt better. Freer. My mother called back and gave me excellent motherly support. Then I made peanut butter toast and ate while talking to Bean. Then we played more, then she ate, then she was very sleepy.
So a few minutes shy of noon, I took her to her room and rocked her. By noon she was asleep. And I? I had made sure to use the bathroom before we sat down, I had eaten, and I brought the Charles Schulz biography with me. At the beginning I dozed with her (I recently bought a Bucky pillow to prevent cricks in my neck). About an hour later I became alert when the phone rang. I stirred, she opened her eyes, but she went back to sleep, still on me. I began to read. Finally after 2.5 hours it appeared she’d happily remain asleep, but I was thirsty and my butt was numb. So I rose from the chair, and she woke. She was ravenous.
The Las Madres group I’m in had a date to meet at Central Park from 1-3 p.m. I’ve been going there every day now, and although it was 3:10 by the time we arrived, I approached a young woman with an infant in a stroller. It turned out to be the nanny of one of the mothers. So we chatted and strolled awhile, after which she departed with her charge, and I strolled a bit more with Bean. At 4:00 we stopped at the store for fruit, and then we got home.
She’s in the swing right now, because she’s tired, but she’s a bit restless and whiny. We did play and dance first, so it’s her usual sleep resistance.
I also emailed the Las Madres play group members and another Las Madres support group for mothers age 40+ and shared I was having a rough day. The responses have been sweet and supportive — and I’ve never even seen most of these women. One thing I discovered from reading their responses is that I am not alone in having a child who dislikes napping in her crib, or who takes short naps, or who is assertive and not “an easy baby.” Someone made a point that when she’s mobile, she’ll want to be held less and less, and I might come to cherish the chance to cuddle and rest with her.
And now the Pixie has given in to the Sandman, and is finally asleep in the swing. She’ll wake ravenous again soon, then Daddy will be home, and it’s his turn!
Playing Hooky
I stayed up too late last night, until 11 p.m., and I woke at 5 a.m. I’m paying for it today. I’m heavy-lidded, weary, and feel like spun glass.
Today I don’t want to deal with Bean crying, so I’ll hold her whenever she sleeps, unless she is willing to go into the swing.
Today I don’t care if I should have tried to get her to go back to sleep at 6 a.m. to finish her night sleep rather than keep her awake until 6:45 when it was clear she needed to sleep, so that she needed what will be the first of many naps today.
Today I don’t care if the Las Madres play date from 1-3 p.m. at Central Park happens during Bean’s typical afternoon nap time; if I want to go, I will, because my sanity requires it.
Today I don’t care what dinner will be.
Today if Bean whines because she’s bored with her play gym and wants me, I will let her whine awhile so I can drink my morning coffee, or eat a snack, or check my email. (And guess what? The whining didn’t kill her. She self-amused for about 20 minutes, punctuating it with grunt-whines of frustration, before she really cried. And by then she was tired, so we read a story and I put her in the swing. Just because she makes that noise doesn’t mean I must engage her every single time.)
Today I don’t care if other people think I’ll raise a spoiled brat because I am not teaching her to sleep in her crib.
Today I will remind myself that Bean and I are not adversaries.
Today when I leave the room and Bean cries (I believe separation anxiety is beginning), I won’t rush through the task I’ve left her for to get back more quickly. Yes, I will allow myself to go to the bathroom without trying to force my body to go more quickly. (Sometimes I do bring her in with me.)
Today when I change her diaper, if I don’t feel like smiling and cooing and interacting, I won’t. If I cry instead, that’s okay. (I did cry earlier, and she didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t doing our usual routine.)
Today I will eat when I’m hungry, and I’ll actually chew the food well before swallowing.
Today I will try to let go of the “supervisor” in my head and when I look into Bean’s eyes, I will settle into them and just be with her.
Today I don’t have to try so damn hard. So I won’t.
I thank dear Karen for taking the time to listen to me and help me give myself permission to play hooky today.
Superbaby!
Today’s Strategy
When Bean awoke around 5 a.m., Husband got up and took care of her. I woke at 5:30 though, and decided to start my day, so I took her on after the feeding. Rather than immediately try to get her to sleep again, I decided this was the start of her day and kept her up. She lasted 30 minutes, maybe 45, before she rubbed her eyes. So today I thought I’d try a different way. I held her and rocked her to sleep from 6:15 to 6:45 a.m.; when she was deeply asleep, I gently put her in the crib. She stirred very slightly but remained asleep. I tiptoed from the room and dozed on the sofa. She slept until 8:00 a.m.! She woke crying and hungry.
So we ate and played, and watched the garbage trucks come just outside her window. Around 9:20 she was sleepy, so I rocked and held her again. She does fight going to sleep; arches her back, wiggles, cries with disappointment, while at the same time her eyes are rolling back in her head and her eyelids can’t stay up because she’s so sleepy. She fell asleep within ten minutes, and again I held her for half an hour, then put her down. But Husband had to leave for work, and her room is over the garage, and the movement of the door woke her; she’d slept only 45 minutes.
Then we went to the library. We arrived too late for the baby lap-sit story time. I chatted with a couple mothers and we wandered the library children’s section. (In the past couple of days, the feedback I’ve gotten from mothers is that I’m “leader of the pack” — as one mom phrased it — in terms of getting out with Bean. A number of women said they didn’t make it to outings until their children were at least six months old.) I attempted to go for a walk in Central Park with her, but she started to get tired (again!). We got home at 11:45 a.m. and I fed her at noon. She fussed while she played, so I did the nap routine again. Except that this time, she woke up at half an hour. I put her in the crib, but she became very alert. I didn’t want to deal with crying today. So I picked her up again and returned to the chair. I held her and dozed with her; she slept for 90 minutes.
We went out to the grocery store, drugstore, and cafe, because I needed human contact and she needed stimulation. She was cheerful but became tired quickly. We got home at 3:30 and this time I decided to just put her in the swing. She’s sleeping now.
Supposedly, babies have wakeful periods of about two hours between naps, but it seems Bean has even shorter times. Then there’s the 2-3-4 rule: when babies are 6 months old or so, after first waking, they are usually awake 2 hours before the first nap, about 3 hours before the second nap, and about 4 hours before bedtime. Today is typical for Bean:
Up at 5:00 a.m.
Back to sleep at 6:15 (to finish night sleep)
Up at 8:00 a.m.
Back to sleep at 9:30 (1st nap)
Up at 10:30 a.m.
Back to sleep at 12:15 p.m. (2nd nap)
Up at 1:45 p.m.
Back to sleep at 3:30 p.m. (3rd nap)
Up at 5:00 p.m.
Back to sleep at 7:00 p.m. (bedtime)
Then up twice for feeding, around 11:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. (total wakefulness usually 1 hour)
That’s about 9.25 hours of awake time out of 24 hours. This means there’s 14.75 hours of sleep. At her age, the typical range is 12-15. It just seems as though as soon as she’s awake, she’s sleepy again.
It’s got me thinking. It seems that the challenge, for me, is accepting this little person’s needs over my preferences. In other words, my work is caring for her. This means slowing down. Maybe I won’t need to hold her for 30 minutes for each nap “forever” — she won’t need me that long. And what would I be doing otherwise? Reading blogs? Checking mail? Folding laundry? Why do I want so quickly to put her down so I can do these other things? (Rhetorical question.) My point here is that a lot of the tasks I feel tugging at me are not truly priorities. Even though the past four months has felt like a lifetime in many ways, she still is only four months old and not even 13 pounds. My strategy for dealing with naps will be first to get her accustomed to being put into the crib by me. That requires holding her, rocking her well into sleep, then putting her down repeatedly. Once going into the crib by Mommy is normal and routine, then perhaps I can reduce the amount of time I hold her bit by bit. At night, Husband has managed to set up a routine of rocking and holding her for 10-15 minutes, then putting her in the crib. Even if she’s awake, she’ll accept going into the crib and fall asleep. That’s my eventual goal.
Something else has got me pondering. Before I became a parent, I rarely though about excretory functions and sleep. (Well, sleep and insomnia have always been a problem for me, but I didn’t read about sleep.) Now I’ve consumed a catalogue of books and websites about how to get my child on a sleep schedule. Each book contains case histories and anecdotes about the various troubles parents have had, and I wonder: what is it about sleep that is so difficult? It’s a basic human need and function. (The same question arose for me about breast feeding.)
I mean, really, think about this. The body gets tired. It needs to sleep. You’d think it would be simple and easy to do. Yet thousands of parents can’t seem to get their children to sleep. Or rather, they can’t get their children to sleep on a schedule that allows the parents to sleep well. I asked my mother what she remembers of raising four children and getting them to sleep. Sometimes we cried a little, and she’d pat our backs and say sweet things like Nighty-night, time for sleep, I love you, and we’d fall asleep. We didn’t, apparently, cry hysterically for an hour or more. Maybe we were “easy” children, or maybe time erases the memories. Regardless, I don’t seem to have an easy child; this has been evident since birth. She’s alert and engaged. Every single time we go out in public — to the store, the library, the park — people say two things when we engage in conversation. One: She’s so small and cute! Two: She’s so alert! The fact that these two comments are made every single time I encounter someone I don’t even know, I realize just how little I do know about babies.
Well, Bean woke up at 4:30 and is complaining about being the in the swing. Perhaps I’ll bring her with me to fold laundry and entertain her by putting my underwear on my head, or something.
Bad Day for Napping
An all-around failure to nap occurred. Too brief a morning nap in the swing, then a catnap on an outing. Bean was tired. I fed her, made sure she was really ready to sleep, then went to her room and rocked her from 12:10 to 12:25. She fell asleep and I put her in the crib. One-half hour later, like clockwork, she woke crying. She cried hard for an hour (with me checking on her, soothing her), until I just decided this nap wasn’t happening.
I picked her up at 2:10; her body was heaving with sobs, and she calmed down. Then we played. Her face and eyes were puffy from sobbing and weariness, but she laughed and smiled. She began to rub her eyes and yawn again around 2:45. I gave her a bottle at 3:00, then tried again in her room. I rocked her, she fell asleep instantly, and I put her in the crib at 3:25. Thirty minutes later, she woke crying. I retrieved her after 15 minutes. I simply could not take any more crying. I soothed her. Rather than play with her, I put her in the swing, which also soothed her, and she fell into a doze. Fortunately her father came home early today (just after 5:00 p.m., unheard of!) and provided distraction and entertainment until bath time. She went to sleep at 7:00 for the night just as easy as pie.
She and I just haven’t got a good routine yet. I’m feeling anxious, guilty, irritable, sad.
Please, no sentences that start with Have you tried…, nor judgments passed on me. My head is full of advice from WeissbluthFerberSears and other random websites, and there’s enough self-judgment in my noggin to take care of the Second Coming and send me to hell already.
Parenting Magazine
I recently began receiving Parenting magazine though I didn’t order it. So I assume it was a gift. The problem is, there was no card or any notification of this.
If you happen to have subscribed me, please email me and let me know. I’d like to thank whoever did this kindness!
It’s Full of… Stars!
Someone Please Stop Me
Please stop me from reading news reports like this from Florida:
A medical examiner found dozens of internal and external injuries on Ariana’s body. The infant had five new fractures on her ribs and more than a dozen old fractures. There was a hematoma and a cut on her spleen. Her liver was bruised, as was her jaw.
When questioned by a Polk County sheriff’s detective the day after Ariana died, Gomez-Romero said he was angry when his daughter was born because he wanted a son, reports said.
Gomez-Romero, who lives in Winter Haven, told a detective he called his daughter an “ugly girl, a prostitute and deny [sic] she was his daughter,” a Sheriff’s Office report said.
Gomez-Romero said he picked Ariana up by her hands to carry her. He said he spanked her several times out of anger because she would not stop crying.
When a detective asked Gomez-Romero what a 4-month-old could do to warrant such severe punishment, the report said he stated, “Nothing.”
“Gomez-Romero made it clear that his anger and hostility towards his daughter was due to the fact that she was a girl and he had wanted a son,” the sheriff’s report said.
Sheriff’s detectives also interviewed Ariana’s mother, Juana Rodriguez-Perez, who said Gomez-Romero would carry Ariana by her hands into the bedroom and close the door.
Shortly after, the report said, their daughter would begin to cry.
Rodriguez-Perez told the detective when she threatened to call the police on Ariana’s father, he would threaten to leave with their 2-year-old son.
Polk Dad Charged in Baby’s Death
The baby girl died Christmas Day.
Why do I read these? It doesn’t help the victim. It doesn’t help me. Is it to feed some pathetic “better than thou” insecurity in myself? Is it a voyeuristic impulse to look at a train wreck? I suppose knowing why doesn’t do much — the only way to spare myself is to simply stop reading. The world would be better served if I donated time, money, or effort to a cause that helped abused children.
Miscellaneous Bean Thoughts
On Thursday, Bean saw her doctor. She weighed 12 pounds, 8 ounces and measured 24.5 inches long. Just 18 days prior (when she went in because she was ill) she weighed 11 pounds, 3 ounces, so she’s gaining well. The doctor pronounced her beautifully healthy. Her Zantac prescription was increased according to her weight (she’s been pulling off the bottle and arching her back during meals recently again). If her discomfort isn’t allayed in seven days, we may need to “graduate” to a different medication. When she received her vaccinations this visit, her response was much different. At the two-month visit, she screamed as though we were sawing off her limbs; it was a scream of pain and betrayal. This time, she broke into deep-chested, rhythmic sobs, the cry of hurt and disappointment. She was soothed more quickly this time. She also had a stronger reaction to the vaccines — a slightly elevated temperature, fussiness, and lots of sleeping followed for 48 hours.
Some other things I notice about Bean but don’t think I’ve written:
- When she is tired and in the swing or stroller, she sometimes stares at her left hand (her left hand only). She holds it with the thumb closest to her, as though she were about to suck it, except the hand is about four or five inches from her face. She stares intently for minutes.
- Other times when Bean is tired (and in the stroller or swing), she turns her head to the right and closes her eyes.
- She has switched from sucking several fingers to sucking her thumb.
- She also chews and sucks on plastic letters that link together (teething?).
- Her volume of drool has increased significantly. To help Bean recognize family members whom she doesn’t see often, I dug up photos and had them laminated. This way they will survive drool and whatever folding, spindling, or mutilating little hands manage to do.
Shortly I’ll be heading out to a baby shower for a friend who is due in February. Oh, I am remiss in mentioning that last week my friend Nathania, who assisted with Bean’s birth, gave birth to a beautiful daughter, Elinor Marjorie, on January 6. Bean will have friends to play with!
Meanwhile, we continue to listen to the Music Together CD from the class. I’m pleased with it — the songs are child-friendly but also enjoyable for adults. If you ask people who know me, they’d tell you that before Bean, they rarely heard me sing. Those who grew up with me would explain why: I can’t sing on key. At least, not without music to follow along to. Well, since Bean arrived I’ve improved. I started singing along with (and later without) the Disney children’s music CDs I bought. The more I sing, the better I’m able to hit the right notes. I also make up songs all the time. The Music Together songs are adapted to fit the vocal range for children, so they are accessible to me. Bean really enjoys being sung to and danced with. I’ve reached a point where I don’t care what other people think about my tone or pitch. She enjoys it, and that’s what matters. Sometimes I display musical competence (hit the right notes and keep correct rhythm) and sometimes I don’t, but it’s a skill, and skill doesn’t develop without practice. Most of all, I want Bean to enjoy listening to and making music, and to enjoy her body by moving it. Husband wants this too (he’s definitely got musical competence and played in high school marching band).
On a non-Bean related note, yesterday I made dinner (yes, again!). I made my first-ever pot roast (it cooked to delectable tenderness and created a yummy gravy), baked potatoes, and carrots with raisin sauce. We had friends over (Bean’s Emergency Backup Parents), and they brought champagne and a colorful salad. We savored it all, and later broke out a new came (a holiday gift from my parents) — Apples to Apples. What a fun and easy game! There are child-friendly versions (Kids and Junior) as well as a expansion decks. I believe it’s going to be a new favorite.
It Was Only a Matter of Time
We Loved It!!
We attended our first Music Together class. Here’s a tidbit about MT:
Music Together is an internationally recognized early childhood music program for babies, toddlers, preschoolers, kindergarteners, and the adults who love them. First offered to the public in 1987, it pioneered the concept of a research-based, developmentally appropriate early childhood music curriculum that strongly emphasizes and facilitates adult involvement.
Music Together classes are based on the recognition that all children are musical. All children can learn to sing in tune, keep a beat, and participate with confidence in the music of our culture, provided that their early environment supports such learning.
The song book we received adds that musical competence in children is developed by experiencing music rather than learning concepts or information about music. This class is taught locally by Music for Families.
So there were ten kids and their mothers, and Bean was the youngest. The leader sang songs and did finger plays, and distributed instruments (sticks, castanets, tambourines) for the children to use. We also danced. It was fun and organized. The teacher was mindful of time and started right away. We also purchased additional materials — CDs to use at home or in the car and a song book. Bean loved every minute. We sat on the floor. She sat on my lap mostly as I rocked her or did hand movements. She was completely engaged the entire time, and immediately fell deeply asleep once in the car.
I’m looking forward to the ten weeks of this.
We also took another adventure later in the day to Whole Foods Market in Cupertino. It’s new and huge (reminds me of the one in Austin on 6th Street). She was fascinated with the sights, sounds, and smells. I felt such joy being out with her. She looks around, then looks at me and smiles. Yesterday we went to a nearby mall and into a fabric store. There were feather boas there, and I dangled some across her head and face. That got a happy response.
I love my Petite Eclair. She’s my yummy little buddy, so sweet and kissable.
Officially Four Months
Four months old! That’s how fast time is flowing!
Bean has several new sounds in her vocabulary. In addition to the creaky door moan, there is a high-pitched squeal that can sound like a prelude to crying or is just a noise she can make because it gives pleasure. The most recent addition is a grunt — “Uhn. Uhhn!” — when she wants something: more milk, a different toy, someone to pay attention to her.
Tummy time remains a challenge, because she flips herself onto her back as soon as she’s placed on her stomach. She’s working hard to turn herself from back to stomach; I don’t think she’s yet made the connection that this action is the “other side of the coin” to the tummy time. Once she does, I’m sure she’ll be rolling all over.
She squeals with delight now and laughs heartily. Some of her favorite games are:
- Kicking her Lamaze Pupsqueak toy as I hang it over her feet; it jingles and jangles. She especially enjoys this when she’s in just a diaper, because she can use her toes to grab the toy.
- The finger rocket game; Daddy pretends to launch a missile (his index finger) that goes way up, and it comes down in spirals and wiggles and lands on her stomach. The sound effects are what make this so fun. He makes the sound of the launch, whistles the falling action, and makes a crashing sound when his hand lands. Her face is a rapture of anticipation as she watches.
- The animal sound game. This is self-explanatory.
- The kissing game. I kiss different parts of her body and name them (feet, knees, elbow, head, etc.).
- Bean fishing: we dangle linked plastic letters over her mouth as she’s lying on her back, and she opens her mouth like a fish taking bait. These letters are portable favorites. She rejected pacifiers at about nine weeks when she discovered her fingers, and now the letters and her fingers bring satisfaction.
Bean likes to sit up as much as possible and to stand with support. Her manual dexterity is increasingly refined. She grabs toys with more precision and manipulates them more smoothly.
She reaches out to touch a book when it is read to her and has begun grabbing the page to turn it (not necessarily in the direction of the story).
I’ve made short movies with the new camera (which has sound too), and showed them to her. She is fascinated and transfixed watching herself.
Thursday she sees the doctor for a check-up and vaccinations. Today we’ll begin a weekly class called Music Together at a local community center. I make an effort now to get out more with her; she’s a social being and avidly interested in the world. Coordinating when is a challenge. She continues to have about two good alert hours right after waking and eating before she becomes exhausted and needs a nap. It takes a lot of energy to grow a brain!
The Remains of the Day
By 4:00 p.m. I’ve usually been up about 11 or 12 hours. My energy flags. My blood sugar plummets. I feel myself disconnect, wanting to stare off into the distance, tired of trying to think of another silly sound game or new way to play with a toy. I feel a little lonely at this time of day. Today I called my mother; on the east coast it’s three hours later in the day, so it’s a good time to chat. Talking with her reassured me that my feeling was normal, and that my inclination to slow down is good for me and Bean. While I chatted, I held a rattle in front of Bean (she was on her gym mat) and tilted it back and forth. This fascinated her as she played with the other dangling toys. And the break — the redirection of part of my attention to something other than her — helped me recharge. At the end of the call, I was able to read her five books (these are all short board books), and then I took her up to her room to play “Bean fishing” with linked plastic letters. I even made a short movie. When Husband arrived home, we gave her a bath and tucked her in at 7:00.
I realize that for Bean, every day everything is new. The same rattle she played with yesterday holds new fascination, because today she might be able to manipulate it a bit better. She does not have language or concepts yet, so she doesn’t think herself into boredom. I do attempt to be with her in her discoveries, to experience the world from her perspective. It’s human for energy to wane, though. Playing with the same toys is her practice, and keeping her company (sharing my attention in the moment) is mine.
Oh Clair
I remember this Gilbert O’Sullivan “two-hit wonder” song from my childhood. It’s a song about an uncle’s affection for his baby niece. (Nothing creepy like Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline). I loved it. Does anyone else? (Remember or love it?)
Perhaps this memory played a part in the process of naming my daughter.
Click here if you can’t see the video on the post.
Lyrics:
Clair. The moment I met you, I swear.
I felt as if something, somewhere,
had happened to me, which I couldn’t see.
And then, the moment I met you, again.
I knew in my heart that we were friends.
It had to be so, it couldn’t be no.
But try as hard as I might do, I don’t know why.
You get to me in a way I can’t describe.
Words mean so little when you look up and smile.
I don’t care what people say, to me you’re more than a child.
Oh Clair. Clair…
Clair. If ever a moment so rare
was captured for all to compare.
That moment is you in all that you do.
But why in spite of our age difference do I cry.
Each time I leave you I feel I could die.
Nothing means more to me than hearing you say,
“I’m going to marry you. Will you marry me? Oh hurray!”
Oh Clair. Clair…
Clair, I’ve told you before “Don’t you dare!”
“Get back into bed.”
“Can’t you see that it’s late.”
“No you can’t have a drink.”
“Oh allright then, but just just wait a minute.”
While I, in an effort to babysit, catch up on my breath,
what there is left of it.
You can be murder at this hour of the day.
But in the morning the sun will see my lifetime away.
Oh Clair. Clair…
Oh Clair.
Conflicted
When Bean was born and had colic and could hardly ever be put down, I feared I would never have a few free moments where my arms and hands belonged to me again. Gradually the screaming subsided, and as her personality emerges and interaction with her is so joyful, I find I want to hold her more, especially when she naps.
The problem is that if she learns to sleep best in my arms, that’s how she will need to sleep. Except occasionally I want not to hold her, if I’m hungry or have a business call to make. This sends a mixed message; inconsistency isn’t helpful with children.
We’ve been encouraging Bean to sleep in her crib at least at night, and it’s working. But the other day I was seized with awareness that she is very likely to be my only child, and she won’t be small for very long, nor will she want to be held forever. It makes me tearful. It’s a small grief, a glimpse into the reality of parenting — my job is to love and protect and empower her to leave me someday.
So I want to hold her. Okay?
Mom Sings the William Tell Overture
A friend sent a link to a humorous rendition. It made me smile and gave me goose bumps!
William Tell Mom – The funniest bloopers are right here
Or view it here.
A Gold-Star, Red-Letter Day
Usually Bean wakes around 4 or 5 a.m. hungry. However, the past couple of nights, she woke at 2:30 or 3:00 and ate, only to wake again at 5 a.m. Of course Mommy came quickly with a bottle, except… she wasn’t hungry. She wanted company and to play a little, then go to sleep in her swing. Well. Momma isn’t enthused about that.
Now, I’ve resorted to the swing since she was born, because it works (mostly, most often), and because it’s convenient, and she doesn’t protest, and I’m conflict-avoidant. And somewhere along the way I developed the idea that she would not let me put her to sleep in the crib. She’ll let her father but not me. Of course, this isn’t true. She doesn’t have the power to prevent me, and it’s not as though she has a complex thought process yet. It’s simply been our custom not to use the crib. And many times I’ll just hold her while she sleeps in my arms, although as she gains weight my arms are going numb. I rationalize that she won’t be small forever and she won’t want to be held forever, so I’m enjoying this while I can. I’m aware this needs to change eventually. Given that we’ve had two days of night-time waking where she wasn’t hungry, I decided this might be a good starting point.
So I put her back in her crib at 5:05 a.m., kissed her and said “night-night” and left. The protest crying commenced. Boy, was she mad!! I checked on her at 10 minutes, then 15, then 30. Each time I entered the room, she would calm down and settle when I gently rubbed her tummy. I said loving things and then left after a couple minutes. The protest crying would begin again. During this entire time, I was uncomfortable, struggling with a desire to just pick her up and put her in the swing. But really, I kept telling myself, she is all right. I had tried to feed her. I’d checked her diaper. She’s still sleepy (she’d yawned several times). The cries waned and silent intervals grew longer, until at 6:20 she fell asleep.
She woke up 20 minutes later, and by that time, I knew she was hungry. She ate well, and then I kept her up to play until 8:40. She became whiney and rubbed her eyes a lot, so I took Bean to her room, rocked her a few minutes, and then put her in the crib. She woke and stirred, then fell asleep. This lasted for 30 minutes until the garbage trucks came. She woke and fussed, and I decided to put her in the swing. She slept until 10:45, woke to eat, and then played more.
At noon she got tired again; I rocked her and put her in the crib. This time she slept 1 hour, 15 minutes. And guess what? I got to take a shower!!!! I was extremely pleased about both achievements. Bean woke cheerful, and we had a lovely couple hours of play. I put her in just a diaper on a soft blanket in her room (cranking up the heat), and she luxuriated in the softness. She hasn’t had much bare skin time since she was born at a cool time of year. We played with jingly toys, and I made her laugh a lot. I read her stories, and then it was snack time again.
The last nap of the day was around 4:00 p.m., and I put her in the swing for that. She’d dozed off just as she finished her bottle (and I fed her in the living room), so it made sense not to disrupt her much. Since I’d been awake since 4:30 a.m., I also napped on the sofa. She woke at 6:00 p.m. And now she is in bed, has been asleep since 7:30.
Oh, I know this blow-by-blow account is probably tedious reading, but I’m pretty happy with what we managed to do today. I learned that:
It’s all right that I want to enjoy her while she’s small.
Eventually she’ll get too heavy for me to hold.
Eventually she’ll outgrow the swing.
I can put Bean to sleep in her crib.
I can survive the discomfort of her protests.
She doesn’t always have to sleep in her crib for naps.
While consistency is good, there is no one right way to do things.
We have her sleeping comfortably at night in the crib, which is no small feat.
Tomorrow we’ll try this again. My strategy will be to try to extinguish 5 a.m. social wakings by doing the “let cry, then check and console” method, and I’ll be consistent about this. I’ll be open to trying the other naps in the crib, but won’t berate myself for using the swing sometimes. Eventually, we’ll get this sorted out.
It Was a Dark and Stormy Day
Rain is pouring, pouring, pouring. Winds are blowing and gusting. It’s a good day for snuggling and soup. Or for practicing grabbing and manipulating things.
Keeping Busy
My day isn’t over yet. Here’s how it’s been so far.
6:00 – get up; Bean was just fed at 5:00 by Husband and wouldn’t fall asleep again, so got her from the crib and played with her
6:45 – Bean naps in her swing, and I check email/blogs
7:30 – Bean wakes; change her; play with her
7:50 – feed her; change her again (she’s productive); play with/read to her
8:30 – rock Bean
8:45 – put her in her crib; she fusses until 9:10 then sleeps until 9:50; during that time I make two loaves of whole wheat baguettes using this recipe; take out recycling; fold laundry; put away laundry; wipe up counters and dining table; load dishwasher; eat a banana and drink milk; gather stuff for Goodwill
9:50 – Bean wakes (darn! only 40 minutes of sleep) and I leave her alone; she protest fusses until 9:55 and then falls asleep again
10:00 – put bread in oven; Bean is crying again
10:05 – get Bean, change a poopy diaper; play with her
10:30 – get bread out of oven; feed Bean, then change her
11:00 – take Bean on an outing to drop off a box at Goodwill and purchase coffee filters at Long’s Drugstore; eat a quick lunch at home
12:00 – Bean dozes in swing and I have a catnap
12:30 – play with Bean
1:00 – feed Bean, change her; make scones
2:00 – take a 60 minute walk; Bean sleeps 35 minutes in the stroller
3:15 – feed Bean, change her; play with her
4:00 – she is whiney and tired; put her in the swing; she fusses and then falls asleep
5:15 – she’s still asleep and I uploaded more photos on Flickr
I’m ready for her father to come home, though that won’t happen until 6:30 at the earliest. Fortunately, I made a ham and bean soup a couple days ago, and that plus the bread will be dinner tonight. Also today, I showed Bean two 30-second videos I made of her, and she was riveted. The one of her laughing especially got a smile and a giggle out of her.
How has your day been?
