Last night we had some more success with sleep habits. Little Man went down and didn't wake up until his usual 4 AM trip to our bed. I scooped him up as I do every morning and tossed, I mean, gently placed him in between us. 99.9% of the time, he curls up and goes back to sleep.
.1% was last night. 4 AM and he is WIDE AWAKE. At 4:20 he is smacking me asking for yogurt.
Is the sun up?
No.
Then it is still bed time. Its still sleep time.
No. Yo gurt.
Sleep.
Yo gurt.
Time to sleep.
Football?
I gave up that losing battle and chose to pick another - convincing John that he should get up with Little Man. My argument? I didn't get home from work until after midnight. Yes he was still up but that was his choice. We went to bed at the same time. He fell asleep shortly after his head slammed the pillow. I stared at the ceiling for close to an hour. Therefore, he got more sleep than me. Hey - at 4:30, there is a huge difference between 4 hours of sleep and 3 hours of sleep.
Somehow I managed to win but it was a short-lived victory. An hour later, Little Man does his banshee impression. We now run the risk of waking the neighbors so I stumble downstairs.
Damn you'd think he had the worst father in the world. No, you cannot watch Cars at 5:30 AM child. I take him and John, giving up, heads off for a shower. Little Man is snuggling in so I take him upstairs. He stops snuggling when we reach his room. He's figured me out. He hears the shower and takes off running for daddy.
He starts to walk into the bathroom. I jump at the opportunity and climb back into bed.
NO MOMMY!
Arms up. Toss him next to me.
Hell hath no fury like a man forced out of bed by wife and child at 4:30 AM; who gives up the hope of getting any more sleep and jumps in the shower; who emerges from the shower to find the two little shits that forced him out of his nice warm bed snuggled up in said bed snoring peacefully away.
He dresses Little Man and starts to take him downstairs.
No buddy, mommy had to work late last night. Let mommy sleep.
No sarcasm. No anger. Calm and sweet.
Hell hath no fury and he can be a very patient man when he needs to be...
Damn if Karma doesn't have a wonderful visit planned for me.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Nuclear
Meltdown. Nuclear Meltdown. Tonight. So much fun.
I could see it start. Nothing was really making him happy and he was having trouble communicating. If I tried to talk to him, he'd get worse so I left him alone but instead of calming down, it escalated.
The dogs in the neighborhood were cowering in fear and pain.
My ears are ringing.
The little hearing I had...
My instincts told me to let him meltdown. To let him scream it out. So I walked out of the room.
"Mommy. MOmmy. MOMmy. MOMMY. MOOOOOOMMMMMYYY!"
Walk back in. Start to speak. Nuclear reaction engaged.
Walk out again. Call MY mommy. Tell me I'm doing the right thing. I am. No, it's ok. I'm actually calm about this. Take him upstairs? Easily done. Wait, he's calming.
Walk back in. Nuclear.
Ok munchkin. We are going upstairs just until you calm down.
What's after nuclear?
Carry him upstairs. Place him on his bed with the intention of giving him his paci. Sheer terror complete with full body trembles.
It's ok. I'm just getting paci.
Paci accepted. Clinging to me trembling in fear. Snuggle on the glider.
15 minutes later he's calm enough to ask if he wants dinner. Nuclear reaction back on track. It's ok. You don't have to. Mommy is not upset. Mommy is not angry. Sometimes we all just need the time to scream it out. I understand. We're on your schedule. Take your time. (repeat. repeat. repeat.)
Success. He understands.
"Soup?"
Sure baby. Soup. How about a hot dog too?
"No. Soup."
Damn. Already made the hot dog during the first nuclear melt down. Could have sworn that would have worked.
Go downstairs.
"Mommy?"
Yes baby.
"Hot Dog?"
One step ahead of you baby. (Finally).
I could see it start. Nothing was really making him happy and he was having trouble communicating. If I tried to talk to him, he'd get worse so I left him alone but instead of calming down, it escalated.
The dogs in the neighborhood were cowering in fear and pain.
My ears are ringing.
The little hearing I had...
My instincts told me to let him meltdown. To let him scream it out. So I walked out of the room.
"Mommy. MOmmy. MOMmy. MOMMY. MOOOOOOMMMMMYYY!"
Walk back in. Start to speak. Nuclear reaction engaged.
Walk out again. Call MY mommy. Tell me I'm doing the right thing. I am. No, it's ok. I'm actually calm about this. Take him upstairs? Easily done. Wait, he's calming.
Walk back in. Nuclear.
Ok munchkin. We are going upstairs just until you calm down.
What's after nuclear?
Carry him upstairs. Place him on his bed with the intention of giving him his paci. Sheer terror complete with full body trembles.
It's ok. I'm just getting paci.
Paci accepted. Clinging to me trembling in fear. Snuggle on the glider.
15 minutes later he's calm enough to ask if he wants dinner. Nuclear reaction back on track. It's ok. You don't have to. Mommy is not upset. Mommy is not angry. Sometimes we all just need the time to scream it out. I understand. We're on your schedule. Take your time. (repeat. repeat. repeat.)
Success. He understands.
"Soup?"
Sure baby. Soup. How about a hot dog too?
"No. Soup."
Damn. Already made the hot dog during the first nuclear melt down. Could have sworn that would have worked.
Go downstairs.
"Mommy?"
Yes baby.
"Hot Dog?"
One step ahead of you baby. (Finally).
Monday, February 22, 2010
Emasculating when trying to be helpful
I noticed a nasty red mark on John's face last night so I asked if it was just dry skin (or had myself or Little Man clocked him the night before while asleep - hey, it happens a LOT). Whew - just dry skin. So being the nice loving wife that I am (and it did look awfully irritated/possibly painful) I told him I have a ton of moisturizer upstairs, most of it unscented.
"Oh, actually honey, there is a jar of Oil of Olay moisturizer in the medicine cabinet. Just use a little and it will clear right up for you".
"Do you have a pad for me too? That would be AWESOME".
"Oh, actually honey, there is a jar of Oil of Olay moisturizer in the medicine cabinet. Just use a little and it will clear right up for you".
"Do you have a pad for me too? That would be AWESOME".
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sleep Interuptus
Little Man no longer falls asleep easily. It takes him forever to fall asleep now. I had to work this afternoon so John put him down for his nap. I have no idea how long John sat with him before giving up and heading downstairs. I also have no idea how much time went by before John went back upstairs but when he did, he found Little Man passed out on the floor in front of the gate at the top of the stairs. He thinks the kid just fell over from exhaustion. He never made a peep when he left his room.
I sat with him tonight. 9:30 rolled around and he still wasn't asleep. I gave him a kiss. Told him I loved him and would see him in the morning. As I stood up, I said to myself "at 4 AM when you crawl into bed with me". I look over to see Little Man nodding quite emphatically in agreement. I really need to watch what I say in front of this kid.
I head downstairs to put together his stuff for tomorrow morning. I've literally just turned the corner from the stairs when I hear his bedroom door open and his little feet racing into our room. I decided it was John's turn (even though it was his turn pretty much all day). John just shrugged it off.
So I figured I'd chill for a bit before heading to bed myself. Honestly, I expected to find the kid curled up in my bed. I hadn't heard a thud so I know he didn't fall trying to crawl up. Maybe he finally figured a way?
As I was typing away here I did finally hear him cough - in his room. So maybe he tried and gave up? I'll be walking upstairs in a few minutes. I will be pleasantly surprised if he's actually IN his own bed and Sweet Mother help that child if he's swiped my pillow....
I sat with him tonight. 9:30 rolled around and he still wasn't asleep. I gave him a kiss. Told him I loved him and would see him in the morning. As I stood up, I said to myself "at 4 AM when you crawl into bed with me". I look over to see Little Man nodding quite emphatically in agreement. I really need to watch what I say in front of this kid.
I head downstairs to put together his stuff for tomorrow morning. I've literally just turned the corner from the stairs when I hear his bedroom door open and his little feet racing into our room. I decided it was John's turn (even though it was his turn pretty much all day). John just shrugged it off.
So I figured I'd chill for a bit before heading to bed myself. Honestly, I expected to find the kid curled up in my bed. I hadn't heard a thud so I know he didn't fall trying to crawl up. Maybe he finally figured a way?
As I was typing away here I did finally hear him cough - in his room. So maybe he tried and gave up? I'll be walking upstairs in a few minutes. I will be pleasantly surprised if he's actually IN his own bed and Sweet Mother help that child if he's swiped my pillow....
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Paci-Free Zone
So Little Man moved from Toddlers to the Twos which made me happy. He's been taking "cooking" classes with them, more kids to interact with and he loves the toys (PLAY DOH!). What I wasn't aware of ? The Twos is a Paci-free Zone.
Oops.
Now Little Man only gets his a nap time and bed time. He can't go downstairs until he puts it away but he still gets it at nap time. At least at home.
He adjusted well without it. He went down with a problem. When he woke the first day he was a little cranky. We'd get home and he would be asking for it but all easily diverted.
So we decided we would do away with the pacifier at nap time on the weekends as well.
Is anyone still keeping count? Anyone remember if the parents scored at ALL? 'Cause we sure as hell didn't score today. I tried. I really did. I explained how he doesn't get it during the week and it was the same at home. I tried the whole big boy routine. I tried sitting with him until he fell asleep. He cried. He screamed. He yelled. He pouted. He calmed a little and I walked out.
10 minutes later he is in our room doing what I don't know. 5 minutes after that he is at the top of the stairs crying, screaming, turning into a banshee. I tried cuddling with him. I tried soothing him. I gave up. Put him down for a nap at 1. At 2:30 he finally fell asleep. With his paci.
I feel for his daycare teachers on Monday. I'm not sure how things will go. Struck out today. I guess we'll try again tomorrow. I'm not sure yet. Time to regroup, rethink, change strategies.
There is no chocolate in the house.
Oops.
Now Little Man only gets his a nap time and bed time. He can't go downstairs until he puts it away but he still gets it at nap time. At least at home.
He adjusted well without it. He went down with a problem. When he woke the first day he was a little cranky. We'd get home and he would be asking for it but all easily diverted.
So we decided we would do away with the pacifier at nap time on the weekends as well.
Is anyone still keeping count? Anyone remember if the parents scored at ALL? 'Cause we sure as hell didn't score today. I tried. I really did. I explained how he doesn't get it during the week and it was the same at home. I tried the whole big boy routine. I tried sitting with him until he fell asleep. He cried. He screamed. He yelled. He pouted. He calmed a little and I walked out.
10 minutes later he is in our room doing what I don't know. 5 minutes after that he is at the top of the stairs crying, screaming, turning into a banshee. I tried cuddling with him. I tried soothing him. I gave up. Put him down for a nap at 1. At 2:30 he finally fell asleep. With his paci.
I feel for his daycare teachers on Monday. I'm not sure how things will go. Struck out today. I guess we'll try again tomorrow. I'm not sure yet. Time to regroup, rethink, change strategies.
There is no chocolate in the house.
2 Rarities
I had the rare experience of talking to my sister on the phone last night. It was a bit shocking. We live no more than 30 minutes from each other. I work no more than 15 minutes from her. I can't remember the last time we saw each other, never mind actually speak to each other. Email and Facebook are our friends - our main line of communication. I'll save commentary on that for another day.
Her son is older. He's in Kindergarten so of course, she is paving the way for me. A lot of the decisions I've made over the past two years have been based on her Been There Done That advice. Most of our conversations end with me saying - remind me about this is X years will ya?
Last night's conversation was just as much a venting session for her as it was a reality check for me. In a nut shell? Pup's teacher had no less than 3 opportunities to mention behaviour issues, not to mention countless opportunities to use the phone or send a letter home. Well, actually she did send a letter home with this on it: I can no longer handle his behavior issues. I'm sending him to the Guidance Counselor.
Nice introduction to the fact that your son and his teacher aren't always getting along. The teacher is still breathing. Her body is still intact. I'm not sure how much longer she will have any self-esteem, sense of ego - over all mental well being as my sister's patience is wearing thin. Her command of the English language is a marvelous thing. When pissed - it becomes a work of art worthy of the Guggenheim. I wish to be there when it happens.
Our conversation last night shocked me. Horrified me and worried me as I know in a few years, I run the risk of experiencing the same thing. I dread his school days. I dread dealing with the Zero Tolerance policy. I dread dealing with an administration stuck in the stone age. So I enter my little fantasy world where he is going to the best school in the world; has the best teachers in the world and is happy. I'll deal with reality in 3 years and not before then.
It was still nice to talk to her last night - to actually hear her voice. Even if Little Man did cut our conversation short.
Speaking of - guess what that Little Imp did to me last night? I stayed up way too late. I should have gone to bed as soon as I got off the phone but I decided to do some more research first (neighbor's computer infected. Guess who gets to clean it up?). I head upstairs to bed and notice Little Man's door is open. I closed it when I left and can't imagine daddy leaving it open. I walk into my room and my poor husband is barely hanging onto to the edge of the bed. Little Man is stretched out horizontally across the bed, snuggling with MY PILLOW.
I slept in the guest bedroom last night. I did bring my pillow with me.
Oh - and I woke up before the boys did. I was able to sleep until 9:10. The sun pouring in did me in otherwise I'd still be asleep. The guys just woke up. It's almost 10. I didn't realize a toddler could do that. Should I be calling the Guinness Folks?
Her son is older. He's in Kindergarten so of course, she is paving the way for me. A lot of the decisions I've made over the past two years have been based on her Been There Done That advice. Most of our conversations end with me saying - remind me about this is X years will ya?
Last night's conversation was just as much a venting session for her as it was a reality check for me. In a nut shell? Pup's teacher had no less than 3 opportunities to mention behaviour issues, not to mention countless opportunities to use the phone or send a letter home. Well, actually she did send a letter home with this on it: I can no longer handle his behavior issues. I'm sending him to the Guidance Counselor.
Nice introduction to the fact that your son and his teacher aren't always getting along. The teacher is still breathing. Her body is still intact. I'm not sure how much longer she will have any self-esteem, sense of ego - over all mental well being as my sister's patience is wearing thin. Her command of the English language is a marvelous thing. When pissed - it becomes a work of art worthy of the Guggenheim. I wish to be there when it happens.
Our conversation last night shocked me. Horrified me and worried me as I know in a few years, I run the risk of experiencing the same thing. I dread his school days. I dread dealing with the Zero Tolerance policy. I dread dealing with an administration stuck in the stone age. So I enter my little fantasy world where he is going to the best school in the world; has the best teachers in the world and is happy. I'll deal with reality in 3 years and not before then.
It was still nice to talk to her last night - to actually hear her voice. Even if Little Man did cut our conversation short.
Speaking of - guess what that Little Imp did to me last night? I stayed up way too late. I should have gone to bed as soon as I got off the phone but I decided to do some more research first (neighbor's computer infected. Guess who gets to clean it up?). I head upstairs to bed and notice Little Man's door is open. I closed it when I left and can't imagine daddy leaving it open. I walk into my room and my poor husband is barely hanging onto to the edge of the bed. Little Man is stretched out horizontally across the bed, snuggling with MY PILLOW.
I slept in the guest bedroom last night. I did bring my pillow with me.
Oh - and I woke up before the boys did. I was able to sleep until 9:10. The sun pouring in did me in otherwise I'd still be asleep. The guys just woke up. It's almost 10. I didn't realize a toddler could do that. Should I be calling the Guinness Folks?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Sah'ree
I tweaked a muscle around my shoulder blade this morning which did not aid in rough housing and general mayhem Little Man and I partake in each day. It wouldn't have been so bad except his father had to be in work at an unholy hour yet again so I had Little Man this morning.
He crawled into bed with us shortly after 4 AM but he stayed asleep long enough for me to take a shower and almost get completely ready - almost. And silly me, I tweak the muscle before I get him ready. Try explaining to a two year old that wrestling while getting dressed is not going to happen because mommy's back hurts. I'd rather talk a pissed off elephant out of charging me.
Wrestling ensues as do a few yelps and tears (all mine). Little Man laughs gleefully not understanding why mommy's face is so contorted but hey - that's even funnier. It isn't until we are walking downstairs (which he insisted on being carried down mind you and twit here didn't fight it. Hello Sucker) that it finally clicks with the kid that my back hurts so he decides to empathize and claim that his back hurts.
Um no honey - mommy's back hurts.
OH! I sah'ree. Sah'ree. I sah'ree. Sah'ree mommy.
Thanks baby but you didn't cause it. It isn't your fault. Mommy will be fine.
Sah'ree mommy.
Bed time rolls around and he suddenly remembers that mommy's back hurts. It could be all the wincing and moaning I've done all night as he tackled me over and over again had finally sunk in with the kid. Take him upstairs for his bath and he starts in on how his hurts again. This time complete with him holding onto his lower back as he limps into his room. Dad called it beautifully:
What are you pregnant?
No way the kid could have understood but damn it if he didn't stop cold.
He crawled into bed with us shortly after 4 AM but he stayed asleep long enough for me to take a shower and almost get completely ready - almost. And silly me, I tweak the muscle before I get him ready. Try explaining to a two year old that wrestling while getting dressed is not going to happen because mommy's back hurts. I'd rather talk a pissed off elephant out of charging me.
Wrestling ensues as do a few yelps and tears (all mine). Little Man laughs gleefully not understanding why mommy's face is so contorted but hey - that's even funnier. It isn't until we are walking downstairs (which he insisted on being carried down mind you and twit here didn't fight it. Hello Sucker) that it finally clicks with the kid that my back hurts so he decides to empathize and claim that his back hurts.
Um no honey - mommy's back hurts.
OH! I sah'ree. Sah'ree. I sah'ree. Sah'ree mommy.
Thanks baby but you didn't cause it. It isn't your fault. Mommy will be fine.
Sah'ree mommy.
Bed time rolls around and he suddenly remembers that mommy's back hurts. It could be all the wincing and moaning I've done all night as he tackled me over and over again had finally sunk in with the kid. Take him upstairs for his bath and he starts in on how his hurts again. This time complete with him holding onto his lower back as he limps into his room. Dad called it beautifully:
What are you pregnant?
No way the kid could have understood but damn it if he didn't stop cold.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Shiver, Puke, Redemption.
My dear sweet loving husband actually started to sing NKOTB's Hanging Tough.
I thought I was going to puke.
Until my wonderfully sweet, loving and highly intelligent son took control of the situation for me:
"Daddy NNOO!"
My heart wept for joy.
I thought I was going to puke.
Until my wonderfully sweet, loving and highly intelligent son took control of the situation for me:
"Daddy NNOO!"
My heart wept for joy.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Silly Mama
I've been a mom for a whopping 2 years and 1 month. Occasionally an eternity but mostly a blink of an eye. What's the biggest thing I've learned so far? I am the Indiana Jones of Mothers. I'm making it up as I go along.
This afternoon was a test of my patience. Waking up from his nap, Little Man was in a great mood which deteriorated quicker than a puddle in the desert.
His speech has been improving greatly. Not only is he attempting harder words (dinosaur, stegosaurus, brontosaurus - he balked at Tyrannosaurus Rex yet again but I'm holding firm), he's also enunciating better. I've noticed him slowing down and trying to pronounce his words better. He's also correcting phrases. It's no longer "I get you" after he's actually caught me but "I got you".
Applesauce is still soup though but I haven't attempted to correct that one yet. I did get him to stop referring to Motrin as soup. I found that too disturbing.
You would have called me a liar this afternoon. All he did was whine. Sweet Mother, I've turned into my mother. Whining has become my biggest pet peeve. It grates my nerves and today it really grated. I had an extremely hard time keeping it together, reminding him gently not to whine and helping him "use his words". I can't tell you how many times I had to leave the room, take a ton of deep breaths, smiled until it hurt and then walk back in.
I caught myself starting to snap just in time and managed to keep the "Don't whine" as a sharp "comment" rather than a full-on roar.
I started to dial the phone. I needed to vent and who do I vent to but my mom. Then I decided that was a bad idea. She would have no choice but to laugh, long and hard - gut-busting, rib-splitting laughter. It would be her vengeance and damn it, I'm not ready to give that to her yet!
So instead I taught my son a phrase he will use a lot in his lifetime:
"Silly Mama".
This afternoon was a test of my patience. Waking up from his nap, Little Man was in a great mood which deteriorated quicker than a puddle in the desert.
His speech has been improving greatly. Not only is he attempting harder words (dinosaur, stegosaurus, brontosaurus - he balked at Tyrannosaurus Rex yet again but I'm holding firm), he's also enunciating better. I've noticed him slowing down and trying to pronounce his words better. He's also correcting phrases. It's no longer "I get you" after he's actually caught me but "I got you".
Applesauce is still soup though but I haven't attempted to correct that one yet. I did get him to stop referring to Motrin as soup. I found that too disturbing.
You would have called me a liar this afternoon. All he did was whine. Sweet Mother, I've turned into my mother. Whining has become my biggest pet peeve. It grates my nerves and today it really grated. I had an extremely hard time keeping it together, reminding him gently not to whine and helping him "use his words". I can't tell you how many times I had to leave the room, take a ton of deep breaths, smiled until it hurt and then walk back in.
I caught myself starting to snap just in time and managed to keep the "Don't whine" as a sharp "comment" rather than a full-on roar.
I started to dial the phone. I needed to vent and who do I vent to but my mom. Then I decided that was a bad idea. She would have no choice but to laugh, long and hard - gut-busting, rib-splitting laughter. It would be her vengeance and damn it, I'm not ready to give that to her yet!
So instead I taught my son a phrase he will use a lot in his lifetime:
"Silly Mama".
Monday, February 8, 2010
Starting Your Morning
Nothing like being woken up by a toddler screaming "WAKE UP MOMMY" while smacking your thigh. It is a fantastic way to start the day. I told him that is NOT how we talk and to ask nicely. Instead of a "WAKE UP peas" I got the arms thrown down and the big ole sigh. So I ignored him. He wants me up that badly, he'll say please.
Nope, he walked out instead. Fine by me.
Until my husband called to me "You gotta see this". So I make a rather lame attempt to untangle myself from the sheets and get out of bed feet first. Avoided the full on head first but barely.
Little Man had gone into his room. Pulled out the changing pad. Laid his Curious George doll on the pad. Pulled out a good 10 wipes and a diaper. He was wiping George's butt and trying to diaper him.
Now THAT is a great way to start your morning.
Nope, he walked out instead. Fine by me.
Until my husband called to me "You gotta see this". So I make a rather lame attempt to untangle myself from the sheets and get out of bed feet first. Avoided the full on head first but barely.
Little Man had gone into his room. Pulled out the changing pad. Laid his Curious George doll on the pad. Pulled out a good 10 wipes and a diaper. He was wiping George's butt and trying to diaper him.
Now THAT is a great way to start your morning.
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