That client. Ugh. Seems she bumped up her tax filing appointment to this Friday morning. And decided to tell me this morning. So my next 24 hours will involve quite a lot of Today’s Daily Maybe Photo.
yes, Master
But wait, there’s other, further skull humping news. (you may wanna skip this part until you see something saying it’s safe to read again)
Seems as thought Isobel’s digestive upsets took a turn for the worst yesterday, leading to more than twice the normal amounts of poop coming out of her body, with each movement being drier and more painful. The climax? A diaper with five different consistencies, six different colours, something that could have been blood, undigested fat globules, something weird and stringy and dry and red that was still partly stuck inside of her.
The result? Me, having a heart attack. And her, a bleeding diaper rash, and panic anytime I say we need to change her bum. And of course, since my back was turned for so very much of today doing work that I was supposed to have two more weeks to do, I couldn’t let her have the full airing out that she needed.
It’s safe to read again.
These night terrors. Man. Ouch. She was up at 1am last night. She was ready to go back to her crib alone at 4:30. No, she doesn’t remember the dreams, but there’s really no separation anxiety for her quite like frantic wake up with mommy already there and then, she wants to leave again? It’s just not happening in Isobel’s world. So, after an hour and a half of rest in total for the night, because I had only just fallen asleep when she woke at 1, I was woken up at 6am.
That’s in the morning.
Movie on in her room. Door stuck in the Isobel cannot open this position. Cup of refreshing beverage and granola bar provided and diaper swapped for a fresh one. Me, lounging on the bed in her room, under a super warm duvet, hoping to catch a halfer or more while she vegetated to Cinderella II.
Nope. It was all about the cuddles. Off and on. With about a five minute break between them.
Nap time came. And went, with her complaining in her crib and me feverishly entering receipt totals between venting to this girl. Then she fell asleep. Oh, glorious dissipation of resentment. For forty damn minutes.
Yup, I said it. I fully resent my kid’s sleeping habits. I know kids who are put into their cribs and have a little chat with their stuffies or what have you, and then go to sleep, without crying once. I know kids who will cry a bit but settle down and pass out. I know kids who always have an issue with going to bed, but once down, they stay down. And I know kids that will wake up at the tiniest noise, a breeze, a thought by someone in another room.
My kid is all of these kids. And never ever predictable about it. Already tonight she’s woken twice in two hours. Though she should be PTFO. And then there was Saturday, with four drunks (two male and yelling their conversations across a five foot space) and she woke up for one teensy sec and put herself back to sleep.
Some kids are just jerks.
Baby whisperer, tried it. She was pissed. That I just. stood. there. and kept. lying. her. back. down.
Ferber method, done. Done everytime a cold knocked her off her feet. Every ear infection. Every long weekend (noisy neighbours). The thing with it is that if you’ve got the ability to let your kid wail for 45 minutes straight on day, what, nine? then you’ve got the ability to redo the whole damn thing every two months. Cuz it does, however painfully, fucking work.
It kills me, the parents who complain about their kid’s sleeping or lack thereof or habits during when they’re half creating the problem. Cuz there’s some of us out here who can do everything right and still get screwed by the sleep fairy.
I’m consistent, we have a routine, she can be waving “nigh-night” to me one second and screaming “daddy!!! noooooooo nigh-night!” the next. There’s little rhyme or reason, except that the shittier she sleeps, the shittier she will sleep. Sometimes.
The thing I’ve learned – only go forward with what you want to be doing in the future. Since I never took Isobel into my bed to sleep after I moved her out of it at three months, now, she just will not sleep with me. And as much as it sucks at 4am when I just want to pass out blissfully with a peaceful, warm body next to me, I’m happy for it. Cuz imagine how resentful I’d be if every night she was crawling into bed with me cuz it was the only way she would sleep?
I’d need a whole, other blog for that.
