Most people I know hate Mondays. You know…heading off to work after a weekend of relaxing. And they love Fridays – the anticipation of the weekend to come is awesome. Me…I’m the opposite. Mondays are okay for me. And, after 2 bad Fridays in a row, I’m convinced that Fridays are cursed. There is not enough coffee, or wine, in the world to help me get through.
This particular day started off alright…I guess. The dude (17 months) and I got out of bed at about 7. Which I’m sure sounds awesome…and it would be if I hadn’t been awake most of the night. My partner brought the dude into our bed at some time. I refuse to look at the time when I wake during the night these days…it’s just too depressing.* So we boobed for most of the night to make up for the boob he missed out on while he was at daycare. So while we got out of bed at 7ish that’s not when we awoke.
The dude seemed to be in a good mood so he played while I made my coffee. Then he poo’d. He doesn’t ever seem to poo when in bed – he gets up and poos. Which seems kinda smart really. So pooey nappy changed I start preparing everyone’s breakfast. Milo cereal for the kids (don’t judge me!) and gluten free muesli and coffee for me. Ms 3 comes out from her room at about 8ish and we all have breakfast together while I check messages on my phone.
I let the kids know what the plan is for today, but that I have to go out to the study and do some work first. So I ask them nicely to please play together quietly for 10 minutes while I do my work. They sort of do…But I pretty quickly have to go back inside due to the screams of “NO little dude that’s mine” and the little dude’s screeched reply of “Waaaaaah – MINE!”
I then decide that I really do need a shower – because it’s HOT up here now and I already smell. So I hop in the shower…and hop out 10 seconds later to put the little dude back on the floor after he climbed on the toilet. And repeat. Several times. I firmly put the little dude on the floor and tell him “bad”. Ms 3 comes over and gives him a big hug and me stern lecture. “He’s NOT bad. You’re bad mummy. Stop telling my friend that he’s bad!” Well…please tell your friend to stop climbing on the freaking toilet!
We make it out of the house and decide to hit the shops. We get milkshakes and lunch. Then we have a look through the shops and get some groceries. I try to drag it all out a bit in the hopes that the kids will get tired and will sleep in the car on the way home. We go for a bit of a drive and the dude falls asleep…and Ms 3 whinges every 3 seconds – “I want to go to my big house. I don’t want to go for a drive. I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to go home”.
So we get home and I get the groceries in. And then I get Ms 3 in. And then the little dude wakes up. I race to his room and sit down and shove a boob in his mouth in the hopes that he’ll go back to sleep. But Ms 3 has decided that the little dude wants to play with her. So no-one has napped (I don’t count 20mins sleep in the car as a nap). But everyone is tired. So I put a movie on and the children sit quietly in the lounge room. I get the washing together and sit it out back ready to hang up and open up the study and get a few things happening. I hear some noise from inside that would indicate that all is not going as well as anticipated. Both my children have green stuff all over them. My first thought is paint. My second thought is some sort of poison. I scream a bit and finally Ms 3 tells me they got it from daddy’s study. So I go in there and find that daddy’s computer screens are also painted green. I scream a bit more. Find some wipes and clean up. Tell Ms 3 that she is to stay in her room. Scream a bit more and say fuck a lot.
Climbing on the stereo.
I then discover that the dude, otherwise known as “monkey boy” can climb on the stereo. The stereo is situated on top of a TV cabinet. To get up he climbs on the speakers sitting beside the cabinet. Up onto the cabinet. Then onto the stereo. The purpose of this was so he could get the phone and ring his friends on Neptune…don’t want to know what that calls gonna cost! I say fuck a bit more as I discover that putting a few chairs in the way isn’t going to deter my little man on a mission.
I decide, rather foolishly, to hang out the washing. I sit the basket where I usually do on the ground and the dude decides to help me. The pavers and stones around the washing line are so hot that they burn his little feet (and mine too!). So he walks out, screams, I put him back in the shade, he waits a minute and walks back out onto the hot pavers…and repeat a few times before I decide that “fuck it hanging out the washing is a dumb idea anyway”. I put the basket up on the BBQ where little people can’t get it and put the clean clothes into the sandpit.
At around 5ish I get myself a wine. At some point my partner comes home and I tell that Friday’s suck and I refuse to allow them anymore. But, guess what? Freaky Friday number 2 will be up soon…
The washing basket remained in this position until my partner came home and hung it out.
I used to never look at the time during the night, I'd just have the dude in bed with me and boob as required. I used to brag about how much sleep I was getting and how awesome I felt. Then one night I was sleeping somewhere I could see the clock...every damn time I woke up. It was like it was laughing at me! I've never felt quite as rested since I found out I was waking and feeding almost hourly through the night!
I would go crazy and hate not only Fridays, but every day of the week if this is what my nights were like.
I know a lot of people think that "Baby Wise" is a dreadful, mean, awful parenting technique, but when baby boy #3 was born I was EXHAUSTED! I had a 2 year old and a 4 year old (both boys) and as soon as I'd get them down for a nap, guess what! Baby #3 was like - "Party Time". All I wanted was a nap while the other two boys napped, but #3 had other ideas.
A friend suggested Baby Wise the book and when I first read it I thought I could never let my baby cry-it-out. But I was tired so I tried it. He cried for 45 minutes the first time. Broke my heart. He cried for 20 minutes the 2nd time (and when I crawled into my room and whispered ever so slightly, "Hey sweety, why are you crying?" he stopped to listen to my whispers and that's when I discovered he wasn't even really crying. Not a tear was being shed. He was just calling to me in the way he had grown accustomed to, which had always worked for him in the past. I checked his diaper - dry. I knew he wasn't hungry.... "Time for sleep", I said, "I love you". And I walked out. He whimpered for 2 or 3 more minutes and from that day forward he NEVER CRIED AGAIN when I put him in bed! He grew to LOVE being put in his bed. He slept through the night from that time forward. He was 9 weeks old.
The premise of the book makes perfect sense and is the exact opposite of what I did with baby #1 and #2. It goes like this.... FEED - PLAY - SLEEP in 3 hour cycles. What I did with baby #1 and #2 was PLAY - FEED - SLEEP or FEED - PLAY - FEED - SLEEP. With FEED being the last thing before bed.
When FEED is the last thing you do before SLEEP the baby is gassy, the baby throws up, the baby poops, the baby doesn't sleep well. When baby wakes up he thinks I need FEED to go back to sleep.
However, when the baby gets up... EATS . . . it PLAYS happy ... has time to get out the gas, has time to pee, time to poop. Then transitions into calming activity then SLEEP. All bedtime issues were resolved. Baby receives ALL the booby it needs during the day so has no need for it at night.
I did this same thing with baby #4 and it even gave me 3-4 hours blocks of free time during the day where I could leave y house and go have lunch, go shopping, just get out - and I knew she would be content because FEED was behind her and what lay ahead was PLAY then SLEEP. Something anyone could do for her!
She always LOVED being put in her crib. Because I started her out from the get-go on the EAT - PLAY - SLEEP schedule she ALWAYS went to bed without being nursed to sleep . She always looked forward to being put in her bed. Never cried. Slept through the night from 9 weeks on. (and she was born a preemie at 28 weeks).
I don't know, something to think about if you ever want to enjoy your Fridays or any other days of the week!
I'm definitely not at a point where I would be willing to listen to my baby (well...toddler) cry for 45minutes. I prefer to simply respond to what they need at any point in time. Sometimes he grizzels a bit when I put him to bed, but there is a huge difference between a bit of a grizzel and crying for 45 minutes. My 3 year old has only just started sleeping through the night and I imagine that my son will be similar. I'd rather spend the next year boobing my baby all night every night in my bed than listen to him cry half the night once.