Crack Baby

I have no idea what I am doing.  I mean absolutely no idea how to be a good mother.  I am flying blind in the dark of night in a deep fog.  And to me, that sounds like a good place to lie down and take a nap.

So Dave and I are trying to install a bedtime routine.  We’ve been doing one informally, but now we’re trying to be more structured to help the little guy get to sleep.  We start around 6:30, although tonight I started earlier because although he ate EVERYTHING (all three bottles and both meals, yay!  Although why they served his “dinner” at 12:30 I don’t frelling know.  Why can they not give him his last bottle with his meal at 3:30 just like they do for his breakfast at 9:30?!!?  OK.  I’ll stop bitching because they did give him his meals and all three bottles).  So, yeah, he ate everything (every blooming ounce) but only had one nap. 

So when he started showing signs of fatigue, I started the routine early.  No bath, but some lotion and a change into pjs.  Although the change into pjs was preceded by chasing him around naked on the changing table trying to get his overnight diaper on.  The boy does love to be naked and his new favorite thing is to roll and squirm around naked on the changing table.  Spinning like a rabbit on a spit, so says Defective Yeti. 

So into pjs and time to read our 1-3 books.  Tonight he actually sorta paid attention to the books.  I have been underwhelmed with my maternal pleasure at reading books to my son.  Either he doesn’t care about the story or pictures and just wants to eat the book or I hold it arms length away so I can actually read it or point out some interesting feature.  Tonight, we got through 2 books in which he was looking near the books while I read the story before Conor as squiggle monkey took over and we aborted the last book.

The next phase of the bedtime routine involves turning down the lights, turning on the air purifier for some background noise, and providing the last boob of the evening.  Conor, Charlie, and I settled in and finished off a boob.  Conor was somewhat settled and not sleeping, so I thought I’d give it a go in the crib.

Ha ha. Hahahahahahahah.  Apparently, that last boob was not decaffeinated.  He first started playing with Charlie, tossing him all over the crib.  Then he rolled over and commenced to scoot 90 degrees from his original position, trying to grab the fat rolls on my belly through the crib bars.  (I’m not kidding; when I lean into the crib, my belly creates tubes of fat between the crib bars.  I don’t like it when he points those out.)  I try some pretty vigorous back rubbing to no avail.  He’s wide awake and ready to play.

I leave the room for a minute, he starts crying, and he’s now scooted 180 degrees from start.  I pick him up, try the other boob, put him down and he commences to scooting and playing again.  Dave’s teaching and I’m getting hungry and cranky, so I break the routine.  (Hence, why I’m a horrible mother).  I put him in his bouncy chair on the dining room table, turn out the lights and eat dinner.  He watches me, bouncing himself quietly. 

He’s calmed down, I think.  We go back to his room and put him back on the first boob to see if he’ll go to sleep now.  He’s calm, and I put him in the crib.  That’s when the crack kicks in.  My child is scooting around the crib laughing hysterically at everything he sees.  As soon as he catches my eyes, he gives a humongous smile and laughs.  I know it’s cute.  But I really, REALLY want him to go to sleep now because it’s been ONE AND A HALF HOURS since we started his bedtime routine!!  Ten years from now I’ll long for that sort of laugh and look, but right now, I. Really. Want. Him. To. Sleep. 

I take him out of the crib and back on the boob.  He’s completely twisty and squiggly.  This is not a good sign.  It’s hard to relax and go to sleep when you’re pulling your leg straight up and then kicking it as hard as you can while you twist your hips around to see if you can slide off the rocking chair.  I switch boobs.  And something happens.  He calms down a bit.  (That’s where I was hiding the decaff!)  He stops nursing, throws his head back and HUMS a few lines and goes back to the boob.  Three repeats of the humming (for Pete’s sake!), he’s done with the boob and I put him into the crib, mostly asleep. 

I am never going to figure this out.  Never.  I have no idea what I’m doing.  And I really feel like my attempts at faking it are pathetic.  Humming?! 

Tongue Gash Update

Thanks to commenter and dentist in residence Gabriella, I am now using a rinse of chamomile, sage, and salt.  Honestly, I like the taste!  And my tongue feels better!  Just a thought, but a dentist blogger would be verrrry interesting!!

6:30:21 AM