We're very lucky.
Jack is the sort of child
we all assume we'll have
when we decide to have children,
and the sort of child
less experienced parents
congratulate themselves for.January and February 2004
March and April 2004
May and June 2004
July and August 2004
September and October 2004
November and December 2004
Blogs we read:
Thursday, Jul. 08, 2004 - Mamma
Slings are wonderful...
...or How I salvaged an evening that could have been disastrous
Jack's current favorite! Are you my Mother? by Phillip D. Eastman
I just got back to work after a five-day holiday.
During my holiday, we kept pretty busy, so Jack rarely had an uninterrupted nap, nor did he make it to bed on time very often. He'd had almost enough sleep over the last five days, but not on his accustomed schedule, so he was in a good, but fragile mood. By today, the poor boy was pretty keyed up.
He didn't sleep until quite late for Dad this afternoon -- then he cried himself to sleep and slept a long time, only to wake up cranky. By the time Dad and Jack picked me up from work, Jack was looking as though he was going to fall asleep any moment. He managed to stay awake, but only because it had been an unprecedented 10 hours since his last nursing, after five days of nursing two or three times per hour. The promise of a nursing session when we got home (along with a couple of tooth picks under his eye lids) was enough to keep him more or less awake, if whiny, for the half-hour trip home.
When we got home, we settled in for a nice long nursing session, which alternated from side to side for over an hour, and gradually turned into giggles and wrestling. It was a lovely start -- but shortly after I got up to start putting away laundry and folding diapers, the whining started, and it continued that way all evening. When Jack had my full attention he was giddy and giggly, if a little wild. When he didn't, he was a misery -- teary and clingy. I knew he was tired, and I expected him to go to sleep early.
But as evening progressed toward night, Jack turned in his sweet baby persona for his "demon in training" role. At one point, I found myself frantically trying to put toys away faster than Jack could throw them across the room as tears of frustration gathered in my eyes. He was shrieking and laughing, but not in a way that suggested that he was actually having any fun -- and I'm embarrassed to admit, I shouted at him "Will you PLEASE, knock it off!". (I know, I should have just waited for him to go to sleep and then tidied up -- what can I say. I'm exhausted, too. The alarm was *very* early this morning.)
Needless to say, my display of temper didn't improve Jack mood at all. We went and sat down in Dad's chair and I held Jack as he keened his exhaustion and frustration. I decided that although it was a half-hour early, perhaps Jack was ready to call it a night, so we went through our evening routine ("Good night radio. Good night lamp. Good night door.") and went to the bedroom to nurse down. He snuggled in gratefully and nursed until he was almost asleep (about 40 minutes). Then he sat up -- eyes still at half mast, but with a big grin. I curled him into my arms, and swung him over to the other side, and again he snuggled gratefully in...only to finish a half hour later -- and pop back up, eyes drooping further still, but with another big grin.
Then the cat joined us. Jack started chasing her around the bed with gales of exhausted giggles.
Oh dear.
I lay watching the wild child and the wild wind rip at the trees outside the window and wished I could be out in it before the storm actually arrived. (I adore storms!)
Then it hit me. Why couldn't I?
True, Jack won't stay in the stroller we have right now. I had been really enjoying our walks before he started to climb around in the stroller, but he can now twist around in the three point harness seat belt and stand up *very* quickly. I hadn't gone again since he started that, because the walks, as enjoyable as they are, aren't worth injury to Jack. We haven't yet saved up enough money to buy a jogging stroller with a five-point harness, and Jack has gotten very, very heavy.
But I *really* wanted to be outside... so, I put a wrap over his diaper, dropped him into the sling, and off we went.
At first I just expected to go out in the front yard to watch the storm come in. But once we were outdoors, the smell of the storm and whip of the wind on my skin called me further -- so we walked out to the foot bridge over the twin lakes. Before I knew it, we were half-way through our usual walk.
Jack was smiling and chatting to me -- asking about every tree we passed. (He's always loved trees. I really have to learn the names of the trees around us, since I suspect that he'd like to know more than "a tree".)
He "talked" about the shrieking we'd done earlier in the evening, (It's hard to describe, but he shrieked repeatedly in a most conversational tone and chattered looking and sounding like he was confiding in me, and not terribly happy.) I agreed that that isn't how we want to treat each other, and I promised him that we'd get better at not frustrating one another if we practice really hard. I also promised myself that I *am* going to practice really hard.
We talked about the trees, we talked about the ducks and geese who were coming up to the upper, more sheltered lake for the night, we discussed the dogs we met along the way.
At one point Jack shivered, so I pulled the sling up and wrapped it around his shoulders. He snuggled tightly under my arm with a smile and we walked on companionable silence. His weight on my hip and across my body felt so good, so right -- like he belonged there and always had belonged there.
Then, as we came in to the last leg of our usual walk, Jack started to say Mammamammma quietly. I put my face into his hair and breathed deeply and said "Mamma loves you, Jack" and he started to say "I love you" over and over -- getting quieter and quieter -- it was so sweet! Then, he started to say "I love you jack", and then to mumble--and then his head dropped forward on my arm.
I got tears in my eyes for the second time this evening. But this time, they were tears of joy. My little boy had fallen asleep in my arms, saying that he loves me.
Wow. These are the moments we want to last forever!
... but now that he's asleep, I *really* have to pick the toys up off the parlour floor!
In the News
When Child's Play Is Too Simple
The power of two: toddlers in pretend play
