His thinning figure curves around my growing abdomen. He squirms and shuffles on my shrinking lap as he tries to doze off to sleep. He settles for a few moments and then moves again, trying to find a way to fit his almost 3 year old self into the disappearing corners of my body.
I know he won't fall asleep like this. I know he needs the shrinking space of his crib. But the bunk bed will be here Friday and I know my opportunities to rock him are disappearing.
I'm not sad, but I do realize the weight of this moment. In a few months he will no longer be the baby. He will become the middle child, a role he was born to play. He has always been my middle child, from the moment he emerged from me kicking and screaming. Always demanding attention, always emotional, always stubborn and strong willed.
His head is on my shoulder now. His long body bent at the knees. His belly on mine. I can feel the baby moving. I wonder if he can feel his little brother responding to his touch. I wonder how they'll be together. I wonder how Freddie will react to a new baby taking away some of his attention. I wonder how three will fit together.
He squirms again and I finally push myself out of the chair and hoist his 34 pounds into the crib. On our wall hangs a picture of him at 3 months old. Sometimes I can't believe we've gotten here, to almost 3. From a swaddled little nut to the length of the crib. It doesn't seem like three years, but in ways it seems so much longer. Like he was always here, always a part of me. I don't remember myself without him.
I've always had trouble picturing the future. Really putting myself there, in that time, is hard. When I was pregnant with Ainsley I worried that I didn't really want to be a mom, because I just couldn't picture myself as one. And when I was pregnant with Freddie, I was terrified of having a boy because I could only imagine mothering a girl. Now, again, it's difficult to imagine having three children. When I try, I only see Freddie's face and hear Ainsley's babbles. I wonder how this one could be different, it doesn't seem possible.
He asks that I rub his belly, so I sit on the floor and oblige. His eyes flutter closed, but just as quickly he is awake and asking me questions. I can't remember the questions. I'm too tired to answer in anything more then "emm-hmm" or "okay." He never goes to sleep well for me. It takes Clif roughly 20 minutes to accomplish this. With me, it's an hour.
I know I'll give up soon. I know I'll ask Clif to come take care of it, but there will be crying and heartbreak. So instead I lift him out of the crib and carry him to my room.
I lie next to him in the dark, his breath becoming more rhythmic as sleep comes. I close my eyes and I think about how we could probably use a bigger bed. The 4 of us don't fit comfortably, 5 definitely will not. Then darkness until I'm dreaming of a huge floating bed that we all jump on.
Showing posts with label Bedtime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bedtime. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Thursday, May 17, 2012
My Little Snippets
As I told you in an earlier post, I am an amazing mother and have finally figured out how to get my child to sleep. Which means, if you know her, then I apparently can get ANY child to go to sleep. So I should totally write a book and make millions.
Except our routine seems to be ever evolving, so I've revised my wealth plan and instead intend to have a talk show that can be fluid and changing. Yes, soon I will be rolling naked on my bed atop crisp one hundred dollar bills.
Originally, Ainsley needed an iPhone to play her favorite songs in order for me to leave her at night. I would cuddle with her through three songs and then I'd tuck her in "snug as a bug in a rug," give her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then say "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.
However, now Ainsley doesn't want to listen to music. I think one night she was crying and saying she just wanted me to stay (see, this is an ever evolving process and 5 months later we still have bad nights) and she didn't want any music. So instead, I asked her if she wanted to talk for awhile. She did. So we talked a little about our days, I asked her some questions and then I tucked her in "snug as a bug in a rug," gave her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then said "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.
The next night she wanted to talk again, but instead she asked me to tell her a story.
"About what?" I asked.
"About you when you were little playing with your brother and sister," she immediately responded. Okay, way to be specific!
I often say I have a good memory, but I have trouble remembering details of my childhood. When certain things are brought up, my mind starts filling in the blanks, but getting started can be difficult.
So I told her about sharing a room with my brother when I was very small and I think even having my sister's crib in there at one point. It was a two bedroom house and we were definitely all born before we moved out of it. I told her about lining my bed with all my toys at night so they could protect me. I told her about sitting on the deck of that house with my mom and her teaching me how to count seconds between lightening and thunder and what it meant.
The next night, she asked for more stories. So again I had to dig deep and think hard. I told her about playing hide and go seek after dark on summer nights. I told her about climbing the tree in my back yard and getting stuck so many times that my mom refused to get me any more...so Uncle Levi did. I told her about walks through the woods to the creek with cousins and neighborhood friends.
After a week of this, I realized I needed to up my game. Think of real stories if I could. So every day, I try and take some time to sort through my memory and come up with at least one story about me as a child. People, try this...not easy!
But, it has been worth it. It's almost like my brain is opening up to these things now. Memories that I forgot, sometimes just race before my eyes...
-hiding in a yellow armoir when I was small enough to fit and drawing on the inside of the door
-creating the General Lee from an orange afgan and brown recliner and my brother and I jumping in through the "windows" like Bo and Luke
-learning to dive at my grandmother's small pool, which was way too shallow for diving
-hanging my feet out the car window on a trip to visit friends, losing one of my flip flops and having my dad throw the other one out
-stopping at a convenient store on the way to my grandparents on Christmas day and leaving my brand new patent leather Minnie Mouse purse on a shelf in the toy isle
-in the first house I remember, so I couldn't have been more than 6, packing my bags to run away and my mom telling me that if I was going, I'd have to leave the family the way I came into it - naked and with nothing...but also telling me that she'd miss me (honestly, the only reason I didn't go was because I couldn't imagine being naked outside)
-the teenage boy that cut our lawn when I was about 5 sitting on our couch and singing along to the Eurythmics video "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"
-my sister stripping out of her diaper and running around our kickball field
-picking berries with my grandmother
They're all just these little snippets. No real stories. Sometimes I have to fill in with fiction where I can't remember. But Ainsley loves them. She asks me to tell her certain things over and over again. She loves the one where Carolyn takes her diaper off while we're playing kick ball and I have to chase her naked butt around to get her back in the house.
And these stories make me feel so warm. I had a great childhood made up of all these tiny little moments that are forever burned in my mind. As each one comes to mind, I remember the tears or the laughter. I remember the smells in the air, and a smile always crosses my face.
I hope that I'm giving these same little snippets to Ainsley and Freddie. Maybe not full stories, but just little memories that they can recall to my grandchildren one day. And I hope these stories always make them smile.
Except our routine seems to be ever evolving, so I've revised my wealth plan and instead intend to have a talk show that can be fluid and changing. Yes, soon I will be rolling naked on my bed atop crisp one hundred dollar bills.
Originally, Ainsley needed an iPhone to play her favorite songs in order for me to leave her at night. I would cuddle with her through three songs and then I'd tuck her in "snug as a bug in a rug," give her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then say "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.
However, now Ainsley doesn't want to listen to music. I think one night she was crying and saying she just wanted me to stay (see, this is an ever evolving process and 5 months later we still have bad nights) and she didn't want any music. So instead, I asked her if she wanted to talk for awhile. She did. So we talked a little about our days, I asked her some questions and then I tucked her in "snug as a bug in a rug," gave her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then said "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.
The next night she wanted to talk again, but instead she asked me to tell her a story.
"About what?" I asked.
"About you when you were little playing with your brother and sister," she immediately responded. Okay, way to be specific!
I often say I have a good memory, but I have trouble remembering details of my childhood. When certain things are brought up, my mind starts filling in the blanks, but getting started can be difficult.
So I told her about sharing a room with my brother when I was very small and I think even having my sister's crib in there at one point. It was a two bedroom house and we were definitely all born before we moved out of it. I told her about lining my bed with all my toys at night so they could protect me. I told her about sitting on the deck of that house with my mom and her teaching me how to count seconds between lightening and thunder and what it meant.
The next night, she asked for more stories. So again I had to dig deep and think hard. I told her about playing hide and go seek after dark on summer nights. I told her about climbing the tree in my back yard and getting stuck so many times that my mom refused to get me any more...so Uncle Levi did. I told her about walks through the woods to the creek with cousins and neighborhood friends.
After a week of this, I realized I needed to up my game. Think of real stories if I could. So every day, I try and take some time to sort through my memory and come up with at least one story about me as a child. People, try this...not easy!
But, it has been worth it. It's almost like my brain is opening up to these things now. Memories that I forgot, sometimes just race before my eyes...
-hiding in a yellow armoir when I was small enough to fit and drawing on the inside of the door
-creating the General Lee from an orange afgan and brown recliner and my brother and I jumping in through the "windows" like Bo and Luke
-learning to dive at my grandmother's small pool, which was way too shallow for diving
-hanging my feet out the car window on a trip to visit friends, losing one of my flip flops and having my dad throw the other one out
-stopping at a convenient store on the way to my grandparents on Christmas day and leaving my brand new patent leather Minnie Mouse purse on a shelf in the toy isle
-in the first house I remember, so I couldn't have been more than 6, packing my bags to run away and my mom telling me that if I was going, I'd have to leave the family the way I came into it - naked and with nothing...but also telling me that she'd miss me (honestly, the only reason I didn't go was because I couldn't imagine being naked outside)
-the teenage boy that cut our lawn when I was about 5 sitting on our couch and singing along to the Eurythmics video "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"
-my sister stripping out of her diaper and running around our kickball field
-picking berries with my grandmother
They're all just these little snippets. No real stories. Sometimes I have to fill in with fiction where I can't remember. But Ainsley loves them. She asks me to tell her certain things over and over again. She loves the one where Carolyn takes her diaper off while we're playing kick ball and I have to chase her naked butt around to get her back in the house.
And these stories make me feel so warm. I had a great childhood made up of all these tiny little moments that are forever burned in my mind. As each one comes to mind, I remember the tears or the laughter. I remember the smells in the air, and a smile always crosses my face.
I hope that I'm giving these same little snippets to Ainsley and Freddie. Maybe not full stories, but just little memories that they can recall to my grandchildren one day. And I hope these stories always make them smile.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
According to Ainsley - Bedtime
BOOM!
Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat...
POP! Creek...
Clink!
I look at the clock...10:35. Apparently a certain little girl is not as asleep as she was an hour ago when I checked on her.
I step quietly up the stairs until her little head comes into view.
"Ainsley? Did you wake up to go potty?" I ask.
She nods.
I think about the oddness of this and ask, "Did you pee in the bed at all?"
She shakes her head, "But I spilled just a little bit of water in your bed."
"In my bed?"
"Yes, I was watching Phineas and Ferb," she explains as she washes her hands.
"Oh really? Why aren't you sleeping? It's very late."
"Well, I did sleep but then I was awake and then I was thinking that we could watch some TV, but you never came to your room," she answers.
"I checked on you an hour ago and you were asleep. How long have you been in my room?"
She looks up at the ceiling, weighing this idiotic question since she has no concept of time and replies "Twenty." Then she scoots past me and wanders down the hall.
I follow her into my room, where she is indeed watching Phineas and Ferb.
"Ainsley, I want you to go back to your bed. It's very late sweetie and little girls need to be sleeping."
"Mommy, I already told you...I went to sleep, now it's time to watch TV."
"Ainsley, sleeping for a couple of hours is not good enough. You need to sleep all night so you can wake up and be a happy child in the morning."
"I'm not tired," she replies.
I ponder this for a moment. We've been working very hard at getting Ainsley to go to sleep on her own, and so far it's been working well. I'm worried that if I push this issue and force her back to bed it will end in a screaming match and tomorrow we'll be back at square one.
"OK Ainsley, just this once, I'm going to allow you to watch this show while I finish making Daddy's lunch. I'll be up in 10 minutes and then it's time to sleep. Do you understand?"
"That's a deal mommy."
Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat...
POP! Creek...
Clink!
I look at the clock...10:35. Apparently a certain little girl is not as asleep as she was an hour ago when I checked on her.
I step quietly up the stairs until her little head comes into view.
"Ainsley? Did you wake up to go potty?" I ask.
She nods.
I think about the oddness of this and ask, "Did you pee in the bed at all?"
She shakes her head, "But I spilled just a little bit of water in your bed."
"In my bed?"
"Yes, I was watching Phineas and Ferb," she explains as she washes her hands.
"Oh really? Why aren't you sleeping? It's very late."
"Well, I did sleep but then I was awake and then I was thinking that we could watch some TV, but you never came to your room," she answers.
"I checked on you an hour ago and you were asleep. How long have you been in my room?"
She looks up at the ceiling, weighing this idiotic question since she has no concept of time and replies "Twenty." Then she scoots past me and wanders down the hall.
I follow her into my room, where she is indeed watching Phineas and Ferb.
"Ainsley, I want you to go back to your bed. It's very late sweetie and little girls need to be sleeping."
"Mommy, I already told you...I went to sleep, now it's time to watch TV."
"Ainsley, sleeping for a couple of hours is not good enough. You need to sleep all night so you can wake up and be a happy child in the morning."
"I'm not tired," she replies.
I ponder this for a moment. We've been working very hard at getting Ainsley to go to sleep on her own, and so far it's been working well. I'm worried that if I push this issue and force her back to bed it will end in a screaming match and tomorrow we'll be back at square one.
"OK Ainsley, just this once, I'm going to allow you to watch this show while I finish making Daddy's lunch. I'll be up in 10 minutes and then it's time to sleep. Do you understand?"
"That's a deal mommy."
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
According to Ainsley - Bedtime
Okay, so a little background on this one. Ainsley's a bad sleeper...you know, right? If you've read my blog at all over the last 3.5 years, then you know this. She doesn't go to sleep without a fight, she can't put herself to sleep, and she doesn't sleep through the night.
One night, last week was particularly bad. I was at my wits end and could feel that I was getting ready to snap. I had been lying with her for over an hour and I had diapers to wash and a basement to clean and lunch to pack and it was going on 10 o'clock.
So I got up, told her to stay in bed and not to wake Freddie and I walked out of the room. She immediately started screaming and I decided I just needed to let it happen. So I went down stairs. I wasn't downstairs 5 minutes when I heard little feet and sniffling coming down the stairs.
Clif and I walked her back upstairs and we both sat in bed with her.
Clif: Ainsley, it's time for bed. You need to go to sleep.
Ainsley: I know, but I am not tired.
Me: If you don't go to sleep you'll be really tired tomorrow.
Ainsley: Can the puppies come in here?
Clif: Sometimes, does Brinkley get in bed with you?
Ainsley: Yes, he likes to come in my bed and then we can cuddle.
Clif: Does it wake you up when he gets in bed with you?
Ainsley: Yes.
Clif: Is that when you come into Mommy and Daddy's room?
Ainsley: Yes.
Clif: Well how about, instead of coming into Mommy and Daddy's room you cuddle with Brinkley and go back to sleep.
She thinks about this.
Ainsley: Well, I do sometimes go back to sleep. But sometimes I have to come in your room so I can tell you something and then I am going to come back to my room and cuddle with Brink Brink and go back to sleep.
Clif: So you don't want to sleep with us, you just have to tell us something.
Ainsley (giggles and sighs): Um, yes Daddy. I don't want to sleep with you sometimes. Sometimes I just want to tell you something and come back to my room because my room is so beautiful.
Clif: Okay, well from now on how about you just tell me something then come back to your bed.
She thinks again.
Ainsley: Um, well, I think that I don't want to sleep in my bed. I think that when I wake up I will just sleep in your bed.
That night, Clif went to bed and I sat at the foot of Ainsley's bed while she didn't go to sleep. I fell asleep propped up against her stuffed animals. When I woke up at 3AM, she was snuggled up next to me at the foot of the bed. I went to my own bed and 30 minutes later, she's opening the door and climbing in between us. And so begins our nightly dance...
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