Last night's bedtime was a success. Then a fail. Then a success. Then a fail. Asleep, awake, asleep, awake, and finally, around 11:15, asleep. I knew he was tired, but it was as if every 5-10 minute "disco nap" just allowed him to gather strength and be up for a longer stretch. The last time he woke up was totally my fault. He'd fallen asleep with his Monkey Love (more on that later) and it was sort of covering his face, so I took it away when he was really asleep. Or maybe not so asleep. PING! Hi Mama! I'm awake! Where ya goin' with my Monkey?
At this point we'd been doing bedtime for 2 hours. I was tired. Bouncing him to sleep on a yoga ball is effective, yet painful after the first 20 minutes. At least my back is getting strong, in case I need to haul firewood for winter. I called on Joel to take over, and I flounced off to bed in a huff. Where had I gone wrong? He'd had 3 okay naps that day. Nothing great, but all told he slept about 3 hours.
He slept well once he did finally go down: up at 3 and then for good at 6:30. I tried to handle the 3a feeding myself since Joel had stayed up until 11:15 with him, but he needed a diaper and I needed to use the ladies', turn on the heat, and get a snack all fairly desperately, so I enlisted some Daddy Help (or as Dr. Sears says, I "honored my parnter" by asking him for help. Seriously, God bless Dr. Sears).
At this point, I was really feeling like a jerk. I couldn't do a 3a feeding by myself and let Joel sleep, and again - where had I gone wrong yesterday?! I kept going over and over everything in my mind trying to pinpoint the moment where I'd messed up and triggered this unusual wakefulness.
This morning, after a decent few hours of sleep, I saw it in a new light. Yeah, I know you are probably all reading this and yelling at me the way you yell at a horror movie heroine not to go in the basement. OK, stop smacking your forehead. I get it now. He's a human being. He's an individual. He's got his own ideas about things, and if he wants to be awake from 9-11, there's not a whole lot I can do about it aside from creating a comfortable environment for sleep. He's not an automaton. I can't program him.
Why am I not getting this? Why am I taking every single bump in the road as a personal affront to my mothering? Furthermore, why am I calling this a bump in the road? He was awake. He wasn't screaming. He wasn't crying. For the most part, he wasn't even fussing. In fact, he was giggling. Probably at me for thinking, yet again, that I have some sort of control over this situation.
This morning after a good breakfast (well, good-ish. No cookie bar, yet) and a good workout, I sat and took inventory: I have a happy, healthy baby. When he is overtired, he is punch-drunk and giggly as opposed to fussy and whiny. I have a husband who wants to help out in the middle of the night. Our baby is seriously agreeable and comfortable. No colic, no reflux, not even a sniffle. He naps well when he needs to. Sometimes when he's crying, he stops to giggle. For real.
Seriously, people, stop smacking your foreheads. I know. I know. I need to chill the heck out, and now. The only "problem" in this situation is my attitude!
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