parenting | Sleep is for the Weak

Saying no, saying yes, and other stories

Posted by Josie on Mar 11, 2011 in Art, Kai, Parenting | 18 comments

There’s not been much sleep in these parts lately. Have I mentioned that? You know, that I’m tired? No? Well, not for at least ten minutes anyway. Yes. Tired.

I have learnt that my ability to perceive myself as a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. Probably because my ability to BE a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. So, on both counts, I’ve been pretty crap this week.

Three or four hours of sleep a night and long days breeds a particularly snappy, shouty, emotionally fragile kind of mummy that neither me nor Kai are particularly keen on, and there has been a lot of snapping and shouting this week. Added to this, both of us have had to adjust to a new way of being around each other in the last few months. It’s just us now, you see, there’s no one else to help ease the tension. I am having to find ways of staying sane when your main source of company, and for long, solitary days and nights at a time, is two and half, and Kai is having to learn that I can’t provide the same focused attention available to him at the weekends, when he has an army playmates in the form of his Dad and family to help keep him occupied.

All of this is making for some particularly fraught weeks at the moment: lots of fallings-out, and the need for making-back-up-again. Good job we love each other, hey?

Motherhood has never come particularly naturally to me. I’m not that well suited to it, needing quiet and having a particularly fundamental need for my own space and to devote time and energy to my own projects and ideas. I have a tolerance level of about three seconds when it comes to the kind of involved, repetitive play that toddlers so enjoy, and Kai has especially intense needs in that department, being a child that never sits still, needing focused concentration to communicate with him and craving stimulation as desperately as I crave the peace to sit and snooze or read. I find I end up saying ‘no’ a lot: “no Kai, that’s enough now”, “no Kai, you’ll have to wait”, “no Kai, mummy’s busy”. We both end up frustrated and fraught, and I end up feeling guilty. It seems like he has the most fun when he’s away from me at the moment. I feel like dull mum, paling in comparison to the excitement and energy he gets from everyone else in his life. I’m not always sure what I’m really giving him most days, aside from fulfilling his basic needs.

But, BUT!

We’re getting there, on the good days at least, we really are. I’m learning to give a bit more, and Kai’s learning to take a bit less and somewhere in the middle we’re starting to find a better balance. I’m a great believer that it’s important for children to learn to play on their own, and NOT need an adult to direct them or play with them the whole time – it gives their imaginations a chance to be really unleashed without adult constraints. When I’ve had enough sleep to think about it properly, I realise that my ‘no’s don’t always have to be a source of guilt – I can view them as something really positive. And I’m learning to include him more – we’re becoming a little team, me and Kai. We clean together and cook together and wash up together and sort laundry together. When I have errands to run, we make it an adventure. Kai helps remember what we have to buy, where we’re going, and we don’t rush home, spending time dawdling along the pavement seeing what we can see.

What I’m learning is that saying no is okay, as long as they’re are plenty of ‘yes’s too. After a morning of ‘no’s after a long night of little sleep, I’m really trying to set aside some time to say “what do you want to do Kai?” and answering “YES!”. I’m finding that even if I’ve said no a hundred other times that day, it’s the yes’s that define what kind of day we have, even if it’s just the one. It’s giving us, in between the frustration and the fallings out, some real gems of time together.

Every day this week when I’ve asked him what he wants to do he’s signed the same sign: PAINTING! And so that’s what we’ve done. Lots and lots of it. I know I tend to harp on a bit about Kai and his art work, so forgive me my indulgence again. I guess when you have a child where so much is focused around what he’s NOT doing, it becomes extra-important to celebrate the things he DOES do. And this is something that makes Kai special in my eyes just now, not because of any particular extraordinary skill, (although I think for two and half he’s got quite an eye on him), but because it’s something that he enjoys so much, and which gives me so much joy to watch.

This week we’ve been using objects around the house to copy in our paintings, toys mostly, and he’s loved it. We talk about what colours things are, what shape, we mix our paints, I watch Kai daub and splat and dot, and for half an hour I get to feel like maybe I’m doing something right for once.

So here’s Kai’s painting of his toy Noah’s Ark, done all by himself while I did my knitting and we talked about what he was doing. I’m not a believer in the religious meaning, but we like stories, me and Kai, especially ones with animals in, and when you get to a paint a rainbow, and conjour up all the hope and light that that brings with it, well, I think it was just about perfect for us yesterday.

(P.S. The pants were clean, promise – had fallen out the laundry basket. Failed to spot them till after I’d saved the photo. Oh well, cheap thrill for you there. You’re welcome.)

On giant toddlers, bum cracks and a whole lot of Pooh

Posted by Josie on Dec 6, 2009 in Uncategorized | 13 comments

It is official.

My son is some kind of giant child.

At not quite 17 months old he is now growing OUT of his 18-24 month clothes. Kai’s freakishly long body are giving his vests a rather slovingly off the shoulder look and revealing about three inches of bare chest which is probably not ideal in December. And although we’re still rolling up trouser legs, Kai’s enormous Buddha belly is putting serious strain on his waist line. And this is AFTER he’s slimmed down quite substantially since learning to walk.

This is not good news. I was hoping our huge bin bag of nearly-new clothes from the last NCT sale (in which I showed SPECTACULAR elbowing and bagsying skill) would get us right the way through winter. But no, Mr-Growth-Spurt has gone and bloody grew. So inconsiderate.

I have to admit though, I kinda love his little bod at the moment. He’s got all lanky, his legs have lost some of their chubbiness and gone all knobby and long. It’s not a baby body any more, it’s a toddler body, complete with requisite bruises, scrapes and bumps.

His toddler body matches his new toddler moves. He’s walking confidently now, even working up to a little tottering run. He still has a tendency to fall over and charge head first into door frames (hence bruises) but his body confidence is growing, as is his stamina and his desire to walk further and further. He’s learnt how to stamp his feet, which has resulted in some interesting new dance moves, and has perfected the adorable toddler squat as he plays his complicated car games, lining them and pushing them round, or two stop in the street and pick up whatever interesting twig or leaf has caught his eye. I could watch him all day. I really could.

One other change resulting from all the growing and moving around has been his nappies. A month or two back I finally had to pack Kai’s cloth nappies away, given that they were now revealing about an inch of bum-crack, cutting into his chunky legs, and having to be ridiculously padded out to cope with the shear volume of toddler wee.

It was a sad day. I shall miss his big bottom look and pegging them out on the line (I defy anyone to tell me a sight more beautiful and satisfying that clean nappies drying in the sunshine). They’ve now been washed (you’ll be glad to know) and packed away ready for the bambino #2 when we decide we’re brave enough to start this crazy journey all over again.

So, Kai’s in disposables full time. And I have to say, I kind of love them!! Scraping sticky excrement of cloth is something I don’t miss in the slightest, and given the potency of Kai’s poos these days it allows you to work fast: remove, contain, get it as far the hell away from you. Aceamundo. Yes I still get the little twinge of guilt when the (biodegradable) plastic bag goes in the wheelie bin, but I figure 15 month of clothy goodness is more than most manage, so I’m not going to beat myself up too much.

Anyway. I’m waffling.

In keeping with my new (guilty) love of Kai’s disposable-clad bee-hind, Sleep is for the Weak is taking part in a little Treasure Hunt run by the Huggies’ blog Enjoy the Ride. For the first 14 days of December they’re posting a clue to lead you to a parenting website or blog. Solve the clue and find Winnie the Pooh’s honeypot and you get given the chance to win one of 7000 prizes from free samples to a family break at Disneyland Paris.

Check out the Discovery Hunt webpage to find out how to play. All the clues so far are up for you to solve, with a new one everyday, and if you play along you may just find yourself back here in a day or two…

Bah Humbug – A Christmas Rant

Posted by Josie on Dec 1, 2009 in Uncategorized | 41 comments

Gah what is it with all you people and your determination to make Christmas last as long as possible?!

Not only have I had to suffer Christmas hitting our high street before Halloween this year, now December 1st has rolled round I’m suddenly met with endless accounts of people with their tree up, presents bought and wrapped, and Christmas cards written.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But I just start to think about it on the 1st, using the whole advent period to gently warm up to the idea. I put up Kai’s advent calendar last night and got my first little Christmas tingle filling it with various disproportionately sized plastic animals for him to find each day. By the weekend I might just start thinking about doing some Christmas shopping. In another couple of week’s we’ll put the tree up and try a think of a way that we can ensure it survives three weeks of toddler attention. I probably won’t even eat a mince pie for at least another fortnight. This way my excitement builds slowly up to an uncontrollable hysteria on Christmas Eve (where my brother will come and we will play board games and eat our body weight in buffet food), a night lying awake wondering if that sound I just heard really was Santa, not daring to move and thinking that all those unbelievers are going to feel such eejits when they don’t get a Canon SLR under their tree, and then be up at the crack of dawn for a few days of festivities and more food and mulled wine than should probably be legal.

If I started with it all too soon, my excitement would have peaked and waned by the time we gotten half way through advent and I’d be bored and disinterested with the whole thing by the time the big day rolled round. Now fair enough if you personally have the energy to maintain your Christmas Spirit for endless weeks at a time, I just don’t have it in me.

And, for me, having Christmas last a whole month, or even longer, kind of throws out my whole rhythm for the year. Christmas is a specific day, or a few days at most, which is proceeded by ADVENT. Which, if you’re of the non-religious persuasion as I am, means a time of getting ready. If you’ve already got ready then what the frick is the point? You’ve lost all the build-up, all the magic – all you’ve got to look forward to is three weeks of novelty chocolates which I swear are made up of the ground up cardboard of last year’s advent calendars.

*sigh*

I’ll stop ranting now. I don’t mean to wee on your Yule log or anything like that.

I’m just saying, let’s all calm down a bit shall we. We’ve got 24 days people, let’s enjoy them.

Please Send Wine and Cake

Posted by Josie on Nov 28, 2009 in Uncategorized | 51 comments

*WARNING: In line with my honest disclosure policy and commitment to blogging with integrity, I should warn you that this a whiney post*

Kai is going through a phase.

At least, I think he is. It could be teething, it often is. I fear not, however, I fear that this is just HIM.

I never realised this about babies, before I had one that is. I figured that they grew and stuff (obviously), but I never realised THEY changed so much. Their needs, their personalities. That periodically they would become demon children from hell as they transitioned to a new stage.

Kai I think is in one such transition. After he started walking we had a month where he was absolutely delightful – everything was fun and exciting and interesting. We’d spend all day going on adventures and discovering the world from an upright position and all the many delights it had to offer – puddles, pidgeon chasing, running with wild abandon through the shopping centre and trying to steal things from shops. I loved it, and, as I always do I stupidly, rested on my laurels and thought “Ahhh this is lovely. THIS is what Kai will be like now. Life shall be good from now on”.

And then came this week.

This week where the my lovely, smiley boy was replaced with Lord of the Nazgul, complete with ear piercing shriek which he proceeded to unleash, with tears and biting and hitting and thrashing around, roughly every 7 minutes.

Here he is in all his glory:

NOTHING has pleased this boy this week. He doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to make dens on the sofa, or build things, or colour. He most certainly does not want to take a nap. All he wants to do is shout at me with nonsensical words, throw things, attempt to scale the furniture and get his mitts on every type of easily breakable thing in the house. Every trip to a public place has resulted in a prostrate, screaming child, and me trying to wrestle him, plank-like, into his pushchair by pinning him with my knee and fending off well-aimed kicks to my head. I am THAT mother, smiling wanly and embarrassingly, as the world looks on slightly pityingly obviously wondering why I seem unable to control my child and worrying that his head seems to be covered in rather nastly looking bruises (from throwing himself backwards and hitting it on every protruding edge in sight).

Our routine has gone to pot. Again. This is the other thing you don’t expect as a parent. You are told that routines are important for a child so you do your upmost to settle into a consistent rhythm of eating and sleeping. And it works, beautifully, for about 6 weeks. Two months max. Then you find they suddenly change the rules – they want to get up earlier, or aren’t ready for bed at the same time. They need less naps, or shorter naps, or more snacks. And you are left running to keep up.

I HATE these times. They never fail to make me feel incompetent, insecure, useless and doubt every single aspect of my parenting.

Of course, it will settle again, it always does. But in the meantime I am in my own personal hell and miserable with it. I’m still so tired anyway, with my blood pressure all over the place (turns out that’s why I keep falling over), and I’m having to spend my days wrestling with a small, ferocious ball of rage.

The worst thing is that he is always as good as gold when in the company of others, like his grandmas, so meaning they don’t really understand what all the fuss is about or why Ant and I periodically take on a grey, shrivelled look and look at our child slightly fearfully, worried he might ‘go off’ at any second.

God only knows what’s up with the child. I fear a lot of it is frustration – we had a similar patch just before he learnt to walk. He is obviously so desperate to communicate, babbling desperately and earnestly at every moment. Shaking his head and gesturing wildly. But what ever developmental thing that needs to ‘click’ to make talking possible just hasn’t happened yet. He struggles to formulate more than a handful of basic words although understands nearly everything you say to him. You can almost see him, trapped in this little body of his that hasn’t quite caught up to his brain. It’s no wonder he’s so angry really, I think I would be too.

Luckily time heals all ills, no doubt he WILL learn to talk eventually and this frustration will ease and all will settle again. Until the next thing of course.

And in the meantime, I’m left with this…