Some cheese with that whine, perhaps?

At some point during my life, my mother*, when I had exasperated her to the point of exhaustion, said to me:

“I hope that when you have kids they’re just like you.”

When I was pregnant with Baby O, and wondering what sort of personality he’d have, I often thought to that comment.

Because a kid like me?

I could totally handle. I’m self aware enough to know what would have worked for me, parenting-wise anyway.

Like, for example. Standing in a corner? Was the worst punishment. EVER.

Being “grounded?” Not so much.

But see, now.

Baby O?

Well, let’s just say he’s not even close to the personality I had as a baby and a toddler.

He’s more sensitive. Less likely to stray too far away from J or I. Much more reserved in social situations than I EVER was.

And good LORD THE WHINING.

That’s his new thing. He doesn’t have the words yet to TELL me what he wants.

And so instead, he fusses. He whimpers. He cries. And in dire circumstances, he will arch back and very carefully lay down on the floor, so as not to hit his head. And look at me and cry. Fake crying, of course. At least, until he convinces himself that yes, he’s really upset. And then the tears come, and I have to spend time consoling him, when really I want to say “good GRIEF, KID! SUCK IT UP!”

I love my son. I really do. But as soon as he starts in on the whining, I have to mentally count back from 10 and focus on breathing.

But see, now Baby O really IS sensitive, so I have to be VERY careful in how I respond.

The ONE time I yelled?

I made him cry. And cry. And cry. And of course I felt like shit. All day.

So managing my OWN emotions when it comes to this toddlerhood thing is tantamount. Because I do NOT want to be the mom that yells. For many reasons but mostly that I don’t want my kid to be afraid of me. Or my reactions.

But I confess that it takes ALL of my energy these days. Not to react when he spends HOURS whining. Trying to put myself in his shoes to understand what he wants from his perspective.

To get past the whining.

So Mom? Having a kid like me might have actually been EASIER than the parenting the kid I’ve got.

*Speaking of my parents, my father was offered and accepted a job. In Texas. Not New Hampshire. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed that they’re moving even further away than they live now. But I’m also happy that my dad has a job. It’s been a long nine months for them.

Luck.

I usually do my Thursday morning run in the early morning, at home, instead of at the gym. Because running outside is much different than running a treadmill.

At the end of my runs, I go inside to stretch and cool down.

I listen to my iPod the whole time. And there’s this one song that plays at the end of my stretch.

Whenever I listen to this song, it takes me back to a T ride I had. After a failed IVF and two failed FETs. After two surgeries. Where Dr. HIT and I met discuss the results of the second surgery. The septum. The removal of said septum. Our chances of an IVF cycle working after that.

Where, at the end of our meeting, he said in his booming voice and a smile: “let’s get you PREGNANT!”

I remember sitting on that train, heading back to my office and feeling such a sense of POSSIBILITY. That mix of hope and fear, and the decision that I was just going to let it all go and throw our chances out to the universe.

And listening to this song today, stretching in my living room, I look up and see my son’s toys strewn about our living room.

I am so lucky.

Understanding.

For so many years, I held such ANGER at my parents over my upbringing. Over how they tried to control me. Over the yelling, the hitting, the anger in our house. Over the fact that I never really ever felt LOVED by them when I was a kid.

And in every one of my dreams which featured them, I was yelling at my mother. I never wanted to call them. I would get stressed out before a visit with them.

And no matter HOW much I intellectualized that they were young, they were poor, they had three kids, it was the seventies, etc – I just couldn’t let it go.

So ultimately, the reason why we’ve gotten along as well as we do has always been because we live multiple states away from them.

But then I had Baby O, and my parents came to visit for two weeks. And my mom cleaned my house, and she was there when Baby O spit up (what seemed to be the contents of his stomach at the time) for the first time, and she held him and told me to take a nap.

And surprisingly, she didn’t drive me crazy. In fact, when they LEFT, I felt sort of sad.

And then when he turned one, they came up for a week again. And they kept Baby O home with them, and took care of him overnight while J and I got away, and lived with us for a week.

And again, it was NICE to have them here.

I’ve found myself wishing that they were closer so that they could see Baby O more. Because my parents totally ROCK the grandparent thing. Because I remember how often my own grandparents came to see us – we saw them once a week, at least.

Because I can tell my mom adores Baby O and wants to spend more time with him.

So on Father’s Day, my father casually mentioned that he had a phone interview with a hiring manager for a job at a company in New Hampshire.

Which would put them a half hour away from where we live.

He’s been out of work for 9 months now. Until an offer’s in his hand, I’m not sure he’ll get excited about anything. But at the same time, I found myself thinking:

That would be pretty cool.

To have them living close by.

It’s funny. As Baby O grows and the months slip by, I think I’m starting to understand them better.

Because it’s HARD being a parent. It’s physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting. There are SO MANY nights where when Baby O goes to bed, I want to join him.

But there are mounds of dishes and preparing lunch for the next day and cleaning up and paying bills and myriad other things which need to get done.

And we’re fortunate that we have someone actually clean our house for us. And I have a job which gives me adult interaction and intellectual stimulation for 40 hours a week. And we only have one child. Not three.

In being a parent myself, I’m starting to see. Their desire to control me was really borne of confusion. Because nothing they did, discipline-wise, worked – the more they tried to control me, the more rebellious I got. So they thought they needed to be stricter. They were TRYING to parent me, I just presented a huge challenge. And it WAS the 70s (well, the 80s when I was giving them trouble). No one READ books on parenting in those days.

They did they best they could. And they did care enough to TRY. Over and over and over and over.

And now that I’ve got Baby O, I am remembering more and more of the FUN we had. The trips to the playgrounds. That my dad built us a sandbox. The imagining my mom helped us do. (When we’d ask “What’s for dinner, mom?” She would say “Spider soup. With a nasty smelly sock to it for good measure!”) The food fights they used to have at dinnertime. Our yearly trips to Great Adventure and the beach.

So having Baby O has been catharsis for my relationship with my parents, too. Because I GET some of it. And though I work really hard at trying to make it so that Baby O will NEVER doubt my love for him, I know that my parents love me. And they always have.

Even if they weren’t so good at SHOWING it when I was growing up.

And so if they DO end up moving here?

I think it would be a pretty good thing.

Houses have lots of edges.

So Baby O is addicted to walking.

Because, really.

Why bother playing with a toy when you can walk in circles around the house?

Unfortunately he is still honing his mad walking skillz, so he lurches and weaves and looks a LITTLE like a sailor who is trying to get his land legs.

But we’re discovering the HARD way that our house has a LOT of edges. And hard places.

Like yesterday. He was walking into the dining room. And he tripped and fell MOUTH-FIRST onto the wood window seat. That hurt his mouth, of course, so he THREW himself back and smacked his head on the dining room leg.

I was a freaking STEP BEHIND him. I saw the whole thing happen.

Cue his silent scream, hand crammed into mouth. And as I picked him up, even I was thinking “OW OW OW OW!”

Luckily there was no blood. No broken teeth either, though I expect that was more from the fact that his top teeth are taking FOREVER to grow fully in. (A fact for which I thanked the Almighty Deity as Baby O sucked on a frozen teether a few minutes later.)

But holy SHIT this part of the walking thing is hard.

I want to hover, standing over him to make sure that at the FIRST sign of instability I’ll be able to catch him. But of course he won’t LEARN that way, to be careful of what his feet are doing.

I want for him to have confidence. And hovering? Won’t allow him to feel confident.

The other option is padding the HELL out of our house until he figures out this walking thing. But that’s not helpful either, because then he won’t learn to be aware of his environment, that there are things which can HURT him.

About the only way he can learn that is by getting HURT.

So all I can do is stay a step behind and keep an eagle eye on him.

And hope that he won’t get hurt too badly when he does fall.

And keep telling myself that the best thing I can do for him is to let him experience his world on his own.

Without padding.

But yeah. This part is tough.

Updates (or: Lack of a Witty Title.)

First of all.

I’d like to go on record and state that I firmly believe that unless you’re actively trying for children, you should get a break from AF.

I’m just saying.

_______________

So. The updates. In bullets, since lately this is how I think:

• After reading your comments on my Zen post and the lack of sleeping through the night in the Serenity house, we bit the bullet and decided that Baby O will no longer get liquid overnight.  I didn’t want to confuse him with the water, when really what I want is for him to sleep through the night. The first night went okay – he woke up, but he wasn’t unhappy. He was awake and kept himself occupied in his crib from 4-4:45 or so. I did only go in once, and that was to tuck him back in and tell him “It’s time for sleeping.” Eventually he put himself back to sleep without issue. Last night went even better – he slept through from when J put him to bed at 7 until about 6am.

  We’re going to keep it up; because I really do think that this is important. But so far the results have been encouraging.

• The transition from the infant to toddler room is progressing. The first morning Baby O went for his visit was a bit rough. He clung to his favorite teacher, barely ate any snack, and completely lost it when one of the other toddlers in the room touched him on the shoulder. And because of that, yesterday morning’s dropoff went very poorly – he was very clingy and thin-skinned. I ended up having to leave him with a chipper “Have a great day! I love you!” while he sobbed as if his heart was breaking. It was horrible.But thanks to my friend D, who suggested I call and check in on him, I checked in mid-morning, and he was having a really good visit in the toddler room. From everything they’ve told me, he’s really interested in the room and toys itself, but isn’t too keen on the other kids yet. But yesterday he joined them at snacktime, sat at the table and ate his strawberries, then stayed for their outside play. He played in the sandbox of course. And by the end of the visit, the report was that he seemed a lot more comfortable. Which is good. Very good.

  Still, though, we’re bracing ourselves for some rough dropoffs in the mornings in the near term.

• My friend’s daughter at Children’s is doing MUCH better, from all I keep hearing from other folks. She’s still got a long road ahead of her, but for the moment she’s out of the woods and progressing well. Which is AWESOME.

So no complaints here.

Today at least.

Wordless Wednesday: Fun in the Sandbox.

Click here for more Wordless Wednesday images.

Zen. (Not so much, then.)

I never should have posted about the lack of night waking after Baby O walked that first day.

And yes. I know I said I was all Zen about Baby O’s night wakings.

Because I thought they were transition related. You know, big milestone like walking means night wakings.

Because when I look at it from his perspective, it makes sense. Because I hate the idea that *I* get to drink something when I’m thirsty, or get another blanket to get warm, when Baby O is essentially depending on US to do so.

Because he USED to go right back to sleep, with minimal intervention from us.

But people. I’m DONE with waking up in the middle of the night.

For the past TWO nights now, he’s woken up at 3:30. And here’s been our routine:

3:30am – go into his room at the fourth or fifth yell (because he doesn’t really cry. He yells “AH!” briefly. It’s like he’s calling “MA!” or something) to find him sitting up. Reposition him on his back. Cover him with blanket, give him bear, search the crib with bleary eyes to find lost pacifier. Rub belly/back/legs in the hopes that he’ll go right back down. Knowing that it’s probably a fruitless endeavor, but we need to try, anyway.

3:35am – leave room, tell J to go get sippy from downstairs. Go into bathroom. Pee. Put drops in eyes so that I can open them fully. Go back into his room. Take crying, fussing toddler out of crib and whisper that dada’s getting him some milk.

3:37am – sit on rocker while he gulps sippy. Shift weight because the damn thing won’t stop creaking. Spread blanket over baby and my own legs so I don’t get too cold.

3:45am – put wide awake baby back into crib, walk downstairs to put sippy away, go back to bed and try to ignore the sounds eminating from the monitor.

3:53am – go into his room to find him sitting up yet again. Reposition him on his back. Cover him with blanket, give him bear and pacifier. Tell him “it’s time for sleeping.” Rub belly/back/legs in the hopes that he’ll go right back down. Know that it’s probably futile because he’s kicking and bucking, wide awake.

3:54 am – leave his room, listen to him cry. And cry. And cry. And WAIL.

3:56 am – go back into his room, where he is now STANDING, looking at the door, crying. Pick him up. Sit on creaky fucking rocker, cover him and me with the blanket, and rock him until he calms down and zones a bit.

4:05am – put him into crib, where he thankfully lays there calmly. Tell him, “it’s time for sleeping.” Shut door, go back to room, turn of the fucking monitor. Ignore the sounds from the next room for the next half hour.

Lay there and pretend to sleep. Try not to move to wake J, who remarkably seems to be very much asleep. Stare at the clock for the next HOUR until it rings and I can get up and end the torment.

So this morning I announced to J and Baby O that there will be some changes to our overnight routine.

• There will be no more milk. Baby O now will get a sippy of water, which we’ll put in his room every night before we go to bed. That way J doesn’t need to get milk and I don’t need to put it back in the refrigerator. And Baby O will learn that milk no longer is served when it’s dark out.

• We will give him the water, put him back into bed, and leave. We will turn off the monitor. He can play on his own, if he wants, but J or I will no longer get involved with the rocking and the trying to put him back to bed.

• The rocking chair will get some WD-40.

• Baby O will be woken up at 7:15am every day. There wil be no “sleeping in” if he is up for an hour overnight. If we need to put him to bed early the following night because he’s sleep deprived from the prior night? Then we will do so, no questions asked. But there will be no sleeping until 8am to “catch up” from last night’s party.

I mean, really. I’m trying to be REASONABLE here. But I have to say that I believe that fifteen months is old enough to sleep through the freaking night. And as much as I want to be reasonable, and look at it from his perspective, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that *I* get a decent night’s sleep too.

And I don’t care if I sound selfish, either. I’m DONE with being up in the middle of the night. It’s been 15 months. And I can count on maybe two HANDS the number of nights where I haven’t had to get up once with him.

So. Zen? Not so much.

Let’s hope this helps.

Transitioning.

So today marks the day where Baby O starts transitioning to the toddler room at his daycare center. He and two other babies are slated to move into the toddler room on July 1.

I really like the way they’re structuring the transition. This week, he will visit the room for a short time, an hour or so. He’ll be accompanied by one of the infant room teachers, at least early on.

If all goes well, they’ll start visiting for longer next week, including a mealtime. The last piece is to visit during naptime, sort of a big deal since the toddlers nap on mats and not in cribs like they do in the infant room.

His first day in the toddler room will be July 1.

In my conversations with Baby O’s primary teacher last week, she expects that, out of the three babies which are transitioning right now, he’ll probably have the hardest time with it.

I don’t disagree with this assessment. For two reasons.

1. It’s partly his nature. I try not to use the words “shy” to describe him. Because I don’t want it to be a label, where it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Where I start to make decisions on things because “He won’t like that. He’s shy.” It’s one of my biggest pet peeves about parenting, and I try to be vigilant that I don’t fall into that mindset. I’d just hate to propagate a label which may NOT be his personality.

But that’s another post for another day (apparently I feel strongly about this!).

Labels aside, though, Baby O IS reserved in new situations, particularly where there’s a lot of activity and noise. It takes him a good while to warm up to people. To new places. To pretty much anything that’s out of his usual routine. That’s just who he is.

2. He absolutely ADORES his current daycare teacher. He lights up whenever he walks (walks! by himself!) into the room when she’s there. He gives her hugs, and clutches at her pant legs so she can pick him up, and he smiles and laughs to get her to smile back at him. (He’s a charmer, this one. If he likes you? Really – he’s a FLIRT.)

And I can see that she digs him as much as he does her. She’s mentioned to me how proud she is that he will be moving up to the new room, but how sad she is to see him go.

So. He’s formed a strong attachment to her. He sees her every day. And so this period of transition, where he sees her, then has to go into another room, will be tough on him.

Because she isn’t going to be there, not all the time.

Ultimately, he’s going to be fine. It’ll take him a couple of weeks, and he’ll get comfortable with the kids and the teachers in the toddler room.

I am thankful that he’ll have his friend R with him, and in the early weeks, I know that the toddler teachers will give him a lot more attention to ease the transition.

So likely the next couple of weeks will be a bit rough on him. (And probably me, too, given his propensity for night wakings whenever there’s a HINT of change in the air.)

But in a couple of months, he’ll the Master of the Toddler Room Climber, and these few weeks will be like a bad dream.

And you know, he COULD take to the new room like a fish to water. He could do just fine.

Either way, it’s all going to work out. And though I have this strong feeling of being swept along by time, and not really being prepared for this (I mean, really. *I* am not prepared for him to be a Big Kid now. Wasn’t he born just yesterday?), there is SO much fun in store.

The toddler room is only the beginning.

Bliss.

It’s no coincidence, I think, that the DAY that Baby O starts walking for real…

… we also ALL got a full night of sleep.

Here’s hoping THAT trend continues.

(*Knocking on wood*)

(*Fingers crossed*)

(*no jinx no jinx no jinx!*)

We interrupt this Sleep.Interrupted post…

… with a video.

Okay, so he crawls at the end, but he WALKED.

And he actually WALKED into daycare today. Totally unassisted. With the BIGGEST smile on his face.