girlfiend

The doctor suggested half a teaspoon of benadryl as a sleep aid with the warning that it does, on occasion, make kids a bit wired. The benadryl comes with a little cup, not a dropper, so I poured what I guessed to be half a teaspoon in the cup and sucked it up with the syringe we’ve been using to give the Fiendling motrin. He was on Boyfiend’s lap and when I squirted the medicine in his mouth most of it ended up on Boyfiend’s shirt. We decided to try again, using a smaller dropper. Because we weren’t sure if he’d actually swallowed any the first time we decided to give him 3/4 of the dose this time, about a dropper and half using the smaller one. He was still on Boyfiend’s lap and this time when I squirted it in his mouth it ran down the Fiendling’s face. Not knowing how much he’d gotten down we decided that this time we’d just give 1/4 of the dose. This time Boyfiend, still holding him, dosed him and managed to get all of it in his mouth. I don’t know how much he swallowed, whether it was more or less than the full dose, but he fell asleep around 9.30 and when Boyfiend woke up at 6.45 and made a move to go to the bathroom I told him not to move. We went back to sleep and the Fiendling didn’t wake up until 7.30. It was awesome.

It’s only ten in the morning and I’ve been eying my box of wine longingly since eight. The Fiendling woke up at four and couldn’t get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. I spent the five o’clock hour crying along with him. Now he’s napping and I can’t relax enough to sleep. I can’t remember the last time I felt this depressed.

Every time the Fiendling sneezes a strand of snot dangles from his nose like a pendulum, swinging back and forth until I wipe it with a tissue or until he smears it across his face where it sits, sticky, collecting lint and cat hair. When do babies learn how to blow their noses? There’s no point in getting dressed because anything I wear will have shiny smears all over it by the end of the day.

Last night was the first night in well over a week that I didn’t get any sleep and it sucked. I don’t know if it’s his cold or the fact that he’s getting closer and closer to full-on walking, but something woke the Fiendling up four hours after he went down and he couldn’t get back to sleep. Against my better judgment, knowing I wasn’t going to get any sleep either way, I brought him into bed with us where he nursed on and off all night, crying and tearing at my shirt when the milk source wasn’t readily available. All morning he’s been doing the same thing- tugging at me and whining, wanting comfort when all I want is to be left alone. I just want to take a nap without little hands slapping and scratching at me. I feel guilty for feeling this way, but fuck, I’m exhausted and I’m sick of being pawed and sucked on, especially since I know he’s not hungry. But that makes me feel worse because he justs wants comfort and I don’t want to give it.

My bronchitis, after a lovely interlude, has returned. I’ve been taking cough medicine, but it doesn’t matter. The bronchitis has a mind of its own and based on my last two bouts of it I’m sure it will linger until the spring. It’s not even worth going to the doctor. They’ll just prescribe an antibiotic that won’t work and cough medicine with codeine that doesn’t help me sleep through the night.

I made Beef Bourguignonne for dinner last night. It was a three day project. The beef marinated for a day, cooked for a few hours the next, then sat overnight because all of the recipe reviews online said it was better the next day. It was good. I served it with roasted garlic Yukon Gold mashed potatoes and creamed spinach which I made because I had heavy cream leftover from something I made though I can’t remember what. The other day I made buttermilk fried chicken which was also good and buttermilk biscuits which were not so good. For some reason they didn’t rise the way they’re supposed to. I wonder if my baking soda is too old. The last several batches of chocolate chip cookies I’ve made have been pretty flat too. For Valentine’s day I made chocolate cake with a mocha frosting. I prefer yellow cake to chocolate, but I don’t have a good recipe for it. Boyfiend prefers chocolate cake anyway. I suppose I could just buy a box of yellow cake mix, but it’s been so long since I made something like that from a box it would feel like cheating.

Yesterday my mom gave me a pair of pants. She told me that she was giving them to me because I don’t have any nice clothes. I responded that her comment was insulting and I do have nice clothes. She said that she never sees me in them. I said yes, because I only ever see her on my way to the gym. She conceded my point and apologized.

This is going to be a very long day.

For the first time in more than a week the Fiendling is taking a nap someplace other than the car. Before he started napping in the car (I now keep books under the seat for when we’re parked with the car running in a lot somewhere) he would only nap on me. Yet he’s sleeping through the night again, at least for the time being. Feast or famine around here. Does this nap, on my bed, not in his crib of course, mean that he’ll be up all night? Only time will tell.

And in other news, I’m officially down to my pre-pregnancy weight. Perhaps it has something to do with that last bout of stomach flu, but the numbers are down, even when I’m wearing sweatpants and sneakers. So for all of you (all right, it was just one person, but I knew it was pointed at me) who made snide comments on your blogs about how stupid women who gain more than the recommended 25-30 pounds are and how they’re destined to never lose the weight, fuck off.

I’ve always given him the benefit of the doubt but I’m done now. It’s official. The Fiendling’s not a good sleeper. With only five weeks until his first birthday he’s still not even close to sleeping through the night. I know that I’ve said in the past that he was, more or less, sleeping through the night, but the experts who say six hours is “through the night” are lying because six hours just isn’t long enough, especially when the majority of the six hours are before eleven p.m. and the sleep that follows the six hours comes in one or two hour intervals.

Last night was a fluke. He slept for nine hours in a row and went back to sleep for another three. Once he slept for eleven hours straight. Where once I would have said that those extended stretches of sleep prove he’s a good sleeper who goes through rough patches, I now think it’s proof that he’s a terrible sleeper whose body occasionally gives in to exhaustion.

My son is happy and healthy. He has a great personality and he is a pleasure to spend time with. Developmentally he’s right on track if not advanced in some areas. He’s thoughtful and interested in the world around him and he’s learning how to communicate effectively. He’s utterly charming in almost every respect. But he’s a shitty sleeper and I’m done fooling myself about it.

Because I’m nothing but a broken record, last night? Not a good sleeping night. We (by we I mean I, because I’m not the one who has to go to work in the morning) got up with the Fiendling every hour from 2a.m until 9a.m. this morning when I finally decided sleep wasn’t happening so I may as well get up.

Things were looking promising. The night before he did sleep in his own bed and when he made the transition to ours he slept for four hours straight. Then he took a three hour nap yesterday. When I told Boyfiend he suggested that maybe the lack of sleep was catching up with him and he was going to start sleeping again. Yeah. Not so much.

He did sleep in his bed for about three hours before waking up shrieking. I rocked with him in the glider in his room until we both fell asleep. I woke up after maybe half an hour and put him back in his crib. Immediately upon hitting the mattress he begain screaming. Not whimpering, screaming. I went to the bathroom then returned to the still screaming baby and brought him into bed with us where I found Boyfiend semi-awake, presumably from the screaming.

The Fiendling falls back to sleep easily when he wakes, but he wakes so often it really takes a toll. I got two hours of uninterrupted sleep between 11.30 and 1.30.  Then 45 minutes to an hour of uninterrupted sleep at a time for the rest of the night. I could go to sleep when he does, but then I’d never get to hang out with my husband and  my stress level from the waiting to not sleep every night is so high already that I don’t even want to think about the wedge that would be driven between us if we didn’t get to sit together for an hour a night.

Boyfiend keeps asking what he can do to help and the truth is that he could get up with the Fiendling when he wakes and cuddle him back to sleep. But I know that if he were to get up with him every hour or two then work all day he’d be sleep deprived and miserable and he spends so much time already complaining about how tired he is from leaving the house at seven every morning that I don’t have the patience to ask him. Besides, I wake up when the Fiendling cries, sometimes before the Fiendling cries and Boyfiend can usually sleep right through it. So I’d have to actually wake him up to go the Fiendling and then I’d just be awake anyway. I guess it’s nice that he offers. I appreciate that he wants to help, but it’s pointless. At least he brings me a thermos of coffee every morning. I love that I never have to make my own coffee.

So yeah. Fiendling cute. Boyfiend thoughtful. Sleep bad. Coffee good. Teeth suck. The end.

We have this piece of plexiglass against the wall where the fireplace tools hang so they don’t bang against the wall and get it all sooty. The tools have moved since the Fiendling is mobile, but for some reason (laziness) the plexiglass remains. A few minutes ago the Fiendling knocked the plexiglass over onto his leg and started crying. Rather than moving the two feet to pick him up (laziness) I told the sobbing baby to, “Come here, sweet pea,” and he crawled over into my arms. Still crying I offered him some milk and he nursed for a second but wasn’t really interested. I began to kiss him under the chin which almost always gets him laughing. He was in my arms, laughing loudly, head leaning back and I got an excellent view of his gums. To the untrained eye he now has two top teeth coming in AT THE SAME TIME. And that’s only the two I can see. Fuck me.

No wonder I’m not getting enough sleep.

However, last night’s Halloween festivities left the Fiendling utterly exhausted. After waking up several times and crying himself back to sleep in just a few minutes he actually slept in his own crib until four in the morning. Once he was fed he slept for four more hours. Straight! I actually slept for four hours in a row for the first time in weeks. I love Halloween.

Look at this little peanut. Could he be any cuter?

Baby sweater

Thursday night, with two days to spare until the shower, I managed to finish the sweater for my future niece or nephew. It’s adorable. Just as cute as the Fiendling’s sweater only it’s probably not as cute in the picture because a handsome baby’s not wearing it.

When I sewed it together I realized that I’d accidentally ironed one side so that it was close to an inch longer than the other side. I nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to iron the other side and the back to match. I also managed to fuck up the decreases on one of the sleeves, but I think I was pretty much able to compensate for that when I sewed it together.

Anyway, the baby’s due right around Christmas. They think they’re having a girl based on the lack of genitalia visible in the ultrasounds. Boyfiend is convinced it’s a boy, which is nothing but wishful thinking on his part. Girl or boy, I certainly hope the baby’s cute, because our Fiendling has really set the standard for cute babies in the family. I am such an obnoxious mom.

An obnoxious mom who’s sore and cranky. Last night, for what seemed like the kajillionth night in a row, I slept with the Fiendling draped across my stomach. He went to bed early for him, around nine (phc- you may have been right about the clock change) but awoke an hour later and went back down in his crib after a good cuddle, awoke an hour after that and nursed back to sleep, then woke 45 minutes after that screaming his little heart out so I gave up and brought him into bed with me so I wouldn’t have to get up to get him every hour.

He sleeps like shit when he’s in bed with us, waking up constantly and he’s been sleeping like shit in his crib- up too often  for me to go and get him all night,so it’s a no-win situation. The absolute worst thing about this is that he used to be a good sleeper. Starting at six weeks old he’d sleep five hours straight. This seems like it’s been the longest stretch of not staying asleep. Even in the beginning of the month, after similar sleep patterns to what’s happening now, when I experimented with 15-20 minutes of CIO he’d fall asleep and stay that way for at least five to seven hours. But lately when I let him cry for a bit he just gets more and more upset. Rather than fussing himself to sleep he’s fussing himself awake. When I peek in he’s on his knees, clutching the bars of the crib, tears streaming down his face, and the screams are heartbreaking.  As soon as I pick him up he slumps against me and sleeps. But once he’s down he’s up 45 minutes to an hour later.

I know he’s not hungry because half the time when he wakes I automatically offer him the breast because I’m asleep and it’s easy, only he’s totally disinterested and just wants to be held. It could be the teeth- the third popped through and now one of his top teeth is visible, yet not through yet, but he’s not actually showing signs of discomfort the way he did with the first two. And the one night I gave him tylenol just to see if it would help it didn’t and I felt bad for needlessly drugging my baby. Maybe he’s working on trying to stand and walk and that’s keeping him up? He pulls himself up pretty well, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere near walking yet, so perhaps that’s keeping him up?

I don’t know. All I know is that he sleeps on top of me and he has been every night for weeks and my whole body hurts from sleeping like that. But I finished the sweater. And it looks great. And I picked up a new pattern and yarn for the next project. It’s a bear cub cardigan with a hoodie. Cute as can be. I’m knitting it in a size 3/4 so you’ll get to see it some time in the next year or two.

It’s 11 o’clock and where’s the Fiendling? Still asleep. As usual, as soon as we get back into some semblance of a sleep schedule something else comes along to screw it all up. This time another tooth threatening to emerge some time in the next several weeks is ruining my sleep. It’s in there and it’s visible, but it’s not at the surface yet. During the day he’s mostly fine, with a few bouts of whining for no reason and ear-pulling, but at night it just keeps him up.

No point in crying it out when it’s pain keeping him awake, so last night (and the night before) he slept in bed with us, waking me up every couple of minutes. He tossed and turned and whimpered and whined and slept for a couple of good two hour stretches. The last time he woke was around 8, so now that it’s morning, he’s in his first good three hour stretch of the night and I don’t have the heart to wake him. I barely had the heart to wake myself.

There was a woman in the first Mommy and Me yoga series I took part in who insisted that from the time he was six weeks old she could put her baby boy in his crib awake, say goodnight, and leave. She’d return twelve hours later to a smiling, happy, well-rested baby. Naptimes would be the same. She’d lay him down and two hours later she’d return to an agreeable, smily baby. The Fiendling was four weeks old at the time and her son was nine months. When the Fiendling was six weeks and started sleeping for six hour stretches I thought of her and her baby and assumed I was in the clear, that we’d officially hit what would become a lifetime of sleeping through the night. Now, six months later, I call bullshit. What baby does that all of the time? What baby is unaffected by teething, growth spurts, colds, developmental changes? I’ll bet she just closed the door and ignored the cries. Babies sleep through the night just fine if you can’t hear them crying.

People always talk about sleep schedules like they’re static. Who the fuck are these people who have these magical babies who just sleep through the night all the time? The Fiendling is a good baby and a good sleeper, but every few weeks he’ll hit a terrible stage where any 6,7,8 or 9 hour stretch of sleep is a laughable thing of the past. And it’s miserable and I freak out and I don’t know what to do, but then I read a book like the Wonder Weeks, or notice the tooth emerging from the surface, or read that babies often practice skills like crawling or walking in their sleep which keeps them up, and it occurs to me that I should just stop freaking out and accept that some weeks I’ll sleep through the night and be happy and well-rested and other weeks will have nights like last night- shitty.

So I’m done freaking out about sleep. I may be sleep-deprived and whiny on occasion, but I’m through having mini-nervous breakdowns about the Fiendling never sleeping through the night again. He’s a baby. Babies go through stages. Stages come to an end and new stages begin. He likes to sleep and so do I, so I know that each rough patch is just that, a rough patch that we’ll work through together. If he needs help falling asleep or cuddling through the night it’s fine. I’m his mom and that’s what moms do. Except for that bitch in yoga. She was either a liar or had a house full of white noise machines.