Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Too tired to make this very interesting

This Boot Camp crap has me knackered.

The cat sits next to me on the couch. She is snoring. I had no idea cats could snore. It sounds remarkably like the video of Grace snoring.

Speaking of the cat, I'm starting to feel a very faint affection for her. This is alarming.

First, the boring stuff (I'm writing about this because some of you have asked me to):

I spoke too soon yesterday. The Child woke up several times yesterday evening. I couldn't handle it and went grocery shopping. Some of you already know that I hate grocery shopping. I hate it even more at 10:00 at night. And even more when it's 37 below zero. This tells you how distressing this was for me. And she wasn't even crying that much, just waking up off and on for a couple hours.

This morning she woke up early again. At five. I went in to check on her almost right away, and I am so glad I did. Her swaddling blanket was wrapped all the way around her head. I'm not talking a corner of it. I'm talking the main part of the blanket that is supposed to wrap around her torso. I tore it off her and then ran out of the room, hoping she'd go back to sleep. She didn't, which is probably a good thing; if I hadn't had to feed her, I would have lain awake in bed, my mind turning all the what-ifs over and over and over in my head.

But all is not lost for the swaddle. I figured out how she got out. We'd had the crib propped up just a little bit from when she was first born and had a *kid. She was creeping down the bed, and her movement pulled the swaddle loose. Just to be sure, I've been checking during every nap today (one was almost two hours long!), and it's held very tight.

*OH. Oh my. I'm more tired than I realized. That's supposed to be "cold". I'm leaving that typo in, though, because it's just way too much fun.

Naptime Boot Camp: Day Two went swimmingly. Emphasis on "Day". She was a ball of brilliant sunshine almost constantly today. Night Two is another story. After I put her down tonight, all cozily swaddled and happy and sleepy, she started screaming. And I tell you what, I have never heard her scream like this.

At the twenty-minute mark (going in every ten, of course), I went into her room, and I broke. I picked her up. I had to make sure she wasn't actually hurting. I think she might have been. Even after she calmed down, she kept arching her back and straightening her legs out (my child is now taller than I am, by the way). So I don't know. If it was gas, there wasn't much I could have done about it. I give her gas drops before bed and make sure she's well-burped. But I held her and rocked her and told her I loved her and kissed her. She was mostly asleep by the time I put her back in the crib, so I know by that time there was nothing wrong with her.

Seconds after I closed her door, the screaming started again, worse than before. So we went back to the ten-minute intervals. I was crying, which I never do. James was fretting. I updated my Facebook status, telling the Internet I was going to eat my young.

James offered to go calm her down. "NO!" I said. "That'll screw everything up!" I was a little worried that my rocking her before had already made it worse.

A few minutes later, he went upstairs anwyay, and I didn't stop him. The practical, logical side of me wanted to, but the mother just sagged with relief. Grace stopped crying. I stopped crying. James came down twenty minutes later. "What did you do?" It was both an accusation and honest curiosity. Duct tape? Pacifier taped to face? What?

"Nothing," he said.

"Oh, you just rocked her?" I asked.

"No. I just went up there and read my book on our bed so I could go in every few minutes and you wouldn't have to."

"You mean she stopped crying on her own?"


I was relieved for a number of reasons. The first was that I don't have a roasting pan large enough for her.

She's woken up once since. I have a feeling she'll wake at least a couple times tonight, but I can handle that. I hope I never have to hear her scream like that again, though; if she were doing this night after night I don't know what I'd do. I know some mothers have children who do this, and all I can do is gape at them in awe that they're still alive and breathing.

The good thing about all this is that if she wakes up at 4:00 this morning, I'll be more than happy to get up and feed her. She's sound asleep, and I still want to go in and comfort her. It's odd how I wait all day for her bedtime, and then when she is in bed, I miss her so much.

I always wanted to do the co-sleeping thing. People I know who have done it have all had good experiences. They get enough sleep, they get to bond so much with their babies, and so much more. There is absolutely nothing sweeter than curling up next to a sleeping baby.

Unfortunately, the reality with me and Grace is that she's a twitchy sleeper, and I'm a touchy sleeper. Until I'm asleep, anything and everything will wake me up. The best thing that ever happened to James and me was getting that king size bed. Grace twitches and snuffles and jolts no matter how deeply she's sleeping. We tried co-sleeping. For three days. I went from deep adoration of my newborn daughter to GET ME OFF THIS RIDE STOP I DON'T WANT TO BE A MOM ANYMORE. So that had to stop.

Now, hopefully, once she's settled into a good nap routine, she'll be back to the excellent nighttime sleeper she's been since about two weeks. My sister assures me this will happen. I know that in two days, when it has happened, I will think, "Well, of COURSE. I knew she'd do it." But right now I'm so uncertain. I'm afraid that she'll turn into a terrible nighttime sleeper, and the next year of my life will be a bleak haze of sleeplessness and possibly Prozac.

On a brighter note!

We have Naptime Boot Camp in full swing. Today we also began Operation: Phalange Discovery. For the last few days, I've caught The Child staring intently at her hands several times. Like something is just on the edge of her awareness, and she's not sure what it is, but she almost... has... it... and... it's gone. I get that feeling a lot, which is probably why I can spot it in other people.

Well. Today she was in her bouncy seat with the hangy bar over it. Normally she stares at it for a while, and then starts yelling at the musical frog. Today she completely ignored the musical frog, and she started batting at the turtle with the rattle. On purpose.

She also brought things to her mouth instead of trying to bring her whole body and face to things. I had a few moments of sadistic merriment when she grabbed at hangy fish thing from the bar and pulled and pulled and pulled and just couldn't get the velcro to come loose. The grunts, the wheezes, the wide-open mouth whole inches from the object of her affection. I wish I had video. I took the fish off and gave it to her. It's the size of her face, but that didn't stop her from trying to fit the whole thing in her mouth. I wish I had video of that, too. Instead of trying to shove in the small fins first or even getting it sideways, she pressed the whole wide flat part against her face and started rooting like crazy. I think I laughed 'til I cried. Which explains her need for revenge tonight.

I ought to go to bed. I'm wrecked, and tomorrow will probably be rough.

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