These kids of mine, my goodness, they are beautiful beings. Yes, yes, I know, I am their mother, my sole purpose is to boost them up and make them feel like the most special people on the planet, even if they are really only average. But I really, truly do believe that Phil and I have thus far made exceptionally good-looking babies. Hopefully we will continue to do so, once or twice more in the future (next baby is definitely at least three years away, I guarantee it). We were talking about this just the other day – how awful it would be if our next baby were ugly, and people reacted to it with surprise upon realising that such an unfortunate looking person was related to the rather stunning Otis and Peggy. Yes, it would be bad, but there are obviously much worse things that could happen, and I’d rather not go there…
But it is really more than skin-deep beauty that I am talking about. I mean the shining joy in Otis’ eyes when he sees me walk through the door after a day at work, the higher-than-normal note of his voice, the tightness of our hug. It is in the way he kisses his new cousin Indigo, with a mixture of reverence and excitement. She can’t offer him much yet in the way of fun or companionship, but he loves her anyway. It’s in his very serious “I’m sorry Peggy” after accidentally bowling her over in a fit of enthusiastic adoration.
My boy has such a capacity for love. I have no idea what he will do with his life, whether he will be academically talented or sporty or creative, but I am sure that he will have wonderful relationships with people because he is just so pure of heart. My neighbour once said to me, “Otis has a big heart”. She’s right. I always think of him and feel a little heave in my chest when I listen to Lisa Mitchell sing:
“Livin’ in that chest is a big, big heart, the one I’ve known from the very start…”
And Peggy. Wow, her determined spirit is something to behold. Already crawling efficiently at 6 months, she can do so much with that tiny body of hers. And her giggle – music to my ears. After a hellish night, she wakes up happy, gurgling, that little face – so extreme and singular it looks to have been rendered by a cartoon artist – is all smiles.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tresillian... I caved in and called.
I am not a fan of parenting hotlines. I can't quite explain why - there is just something off to me about calling a stranger on the phone and finding out from them what it is that your child needs. But then, I understand desperation, I certainly do...
My reservations also relate to my feelings about controlled crying. I wouldn't ignore an adult who was crying, let alone my own precious, defenceless baby girl. Not an option in this household.
Anyway, Peggy has been carrying on for hours during the night. We do the Cot vs Co-sleeping dance - in, out, in, out. She knows when I am placing her back into the cot, even when she is fast asleep. The minute I change the configuration of my arms, she starts to arch and moan and the tears flow.
She is self-settling wonderfully during the day - not even the tiniest of whinges. And sleeping well, at least one 2 hour nap and then another one or two shorter naps. In the evening I feed her down and then she wakes about 4 hours later, and won't calm without me offering the boob. And then... Hours, literally hours, of carry on.
So I laid it all out on Tresillian's Messenger Mums service, after being on hold to them on my bloody mobile for 4o minutes! And you know what the nurse told me? That Peggy wants me all to herself and feels as if night time is the only opportunity for that, because Otis takes up so much of my time. Can I get some help with him and spend more one-on-one time with her? Well... No. Not when I already enlist the help of her grandmothers twice a week so that I can work and thus we can eat.
I feel worse than I did before! I should have followed my instincts!
I am feeling resigned to the fact that we will be co-sleeping for much of the night for now. It's not the worst thing in the world, having a warm baby folded up in your arms on a cold night.
My reservations also relate to my feelings about controlled crying. I wouldn't ignore an adult who was crying, let alone my own precious, defenceless baby girl. Not an option in this household.
Anyway, Peggy has been carrying on for hours during the night. We do the Cot vs Co-sleeping dance - in, out, in, out. She knows when I am placing her back into the cot, even when she is fast asleep. The minute I change the configuration of my arms, she starts to arch and moan and the tears flow.
She is self-settling wonderfully during the day - not even the tiniest of whinges. And sleeping well, at least one 2 hour nap and then another one or two shorter naps. In the evening I feed her down and then she wakes about 4 hours later, and won't calm without me offering the boob. And then... Hours, literally hours, of carry on.
So I laid it all out on Tresillian's Messenger Mums service, after being on hold to them on my bloody mobile for 4o minutes! And you know what the nurse told me? That Peggy wants me all to herself and feels as if night time is the only opportunity for that, because Otis takes up so much of my time. Can I get some help with him and spend more one-on-one time with her? Well... No. Not when I already enlist the help of her grandmothers twice a week so that I can work and thus we can eat.
I feel worse than I did before! I should have followed my instincts!
I am feeling resigned to the fact that we will be co-sleeping for much of the night for now. It's not the worst thing in the world, having a warm baby folded up in your arms on a cold night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
