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co-sleeping

fathering mothering PARENTING

Pomegranates and Really Bad Bedtime Routines

My one piece of advice to parents? Get your kids into a good bedtime routine.

Just don’t ask me how to do it.

If the books are to be believed, I think there’s something about “consistency” and “same time each night”, two areas on the life report card that leave me hovering right around a C-.

Our motto for parenting is “do what works, until it doesn’t, then do what works.” And that’s true of the bedtime routine, too. We’ve done what works, which has sometimes included a swing, a crib, a crib mattress on the floor, a queen-sized mattress on the floor, a night light in the wall, co-sleeping, sleeping alone, a bath, a song, and always, of course, a book.

It has also included parent tears and children tears, vomit, tantrums that end in dirty diapers, and, well, you get the point.

I’m going to be honest, I work under the assumption that we are the only parents that have this problem. But I remind myself that, at least as far as I know, most kids don’t co-sleep when they’re in High School.

salad recipes

On the topic of things we’re trying to do better, my husband and I are working, or rather, eating our way through cookbook of salads. (Is it still called a cookbook if you don’t cook?) I bring it up not as a humble brag, but to both give the book a shout out, and to explain why a pomegranate was sitting opened, a fourth of its seeds taken out, on our kitchen counter.

My husband had commented that he didn’t think he was going to finish the pomegranate and, because we do have a tendency to get distracted and let fruit go bad, asked if we should keep it or throw it away. Playing my role in what has become a familiar scene, I insisted I would finish peeling it, or whatever it is that you call removing the fruit from a pomegranate. Shucking?

pom skin

I did end up peel-shucking that pomegranate, mostly because I enjoy any kitchen task that gives me an excuse to watch Gilmore Girls and still feel productive. As I watched Rory have her heart broken by Jess for the hundredth time, I pulled the skin away from the pomegranate seeds. And I realized for third time (since we don’t really eat that many pomegranates in our home) how beautiful those perfect red beads are, like jewels hidden inside their rhinoceros-skin exteriors.

pom seeds

So last night, while I was rocking my baby boy to sleep, or rather, rocking him, since there was no sleep going on, I looked down at his beautiful, perfect face and his tiny, George W. Bush ears, his long eye-lashes, and his dimple, and kissed his forehead.

“Sing, Mama?” he asked.

I sang. And then, we sang. First, “He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands” and then “Give Yourself to Love”, and “Jesus Loves Me”.  And I listened as my two year old started, for the first time, to sing along with every word to the songs that I have sung him each night. He grinned as his tiny, high-pitched voice matched mine, recognizing my delight in his newly revealed ability.

And it was like peeling away the ugly rhinoceros skin of our lack of bedtime routine, and seeing the little gem of it stuck inside, just waiting for me to find it.

I imagine we’ll keep tweaking our bedtime routine, continuing to make it work. But even when it doesn’t, I guess it’s not always so bad after all.

261755_10150290602379874_2436766_nRachel

 

 

 

fathering mothering PARENTING

God Bless Daycare

If you are a regular reader then you know that I have been on an emotional tilt-a-whirl when it comes to childcare for my son. For a good chunk of my maternity leave I was pretty sure that being a stay-at-home mom was the only route for me. And I was a good SAH mom for those three months. We went out on walks, we visited every store and free activity in a twenty mile radius, and we laughed and clapped and sang songs. All. Day. Long.

Going back to work was hard for me. Pumping at work, missing my son all day, trying to find pants that fit in a professional way–that was a challenge. But I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a satisfaction in not reading the Baby Faces book four hundred times a day. Or in not sitting by the door like a complete stalker from 4:30pm on, waiting for my husband to get home.

Anyway, this past week I re-appreciated the value of spending long chunks of time with my son, as well as the value of having a great daycare.

We spent the past week in a beautiful cabin in Wisconsin. I packed a bag of twenty books to read, and we set off. (I packed sweat pants and a tooth brush, too, if you’re the type that worries about such details.) After a long school year, quitting my job, going through the application process for multiple other jobs, accepting a job, etc, I was very ready for a break.

IMG_2303

We had a wonderful time in Wisconsin. Truly, we did. Also, I did not read a single book.

I had forgotten how hard it is to accomplish anything when you are following around a ten-month-old. One who has just learned how to pick himself up onto any and all furniture, how to find and open pill bottles, and how to fling himself head-first off of furniture (or attempt to, in any case, we have to draw the line somewhere).

I would be one paragraph into a book when he would find a power-cord to munch. Or would pull himself onto the stone hearth and start reaching for the fire poker. Or start throwing items off the coffee table. By the time I got back to my book, I had to reread the paragraph. And by that time, my son would have crawled up on me, snatching my book from my hands, flinging it behind his shoulder. With love, of course.

It wasn’t really a romantic trip, either, since my son decided that he no longer is interested in sleeping on his own, preferring instead to sleep if and only if he is between me and my husband in bed. Which is fine, except it isn’t. If you know what I mean, and I think you do.

baby-sleep-positions

Let me not get too down on the trip, because once I set aside my expectations of catching up on sleep, reading, and sex, it was actually a perfect vacation. We ate well past our caloric needs every day, discovered snakes and wild turkeys on our walks, and drank wine while listening to old records of Joan Baez and Johnny Cash. Idyllic.

I soaked in some incredible mommy-son time. I can hardly believe that he is just weeks away from walking, he’s saying mama and dada, and he has mastered the art of shaking his head to say “no”. It’s magical to see a little human grow and develop and change around me. I am thankful for every moment.

But it was also magical when my husband dropped my son off at daycare this morning. After arriving home well past midnight last night, it was an absolute luxury to sleep until 11:38am.

And it was magical when we went out for lunch, and I got to enjoy sipping on not one, but TWO mugs of tea. At no point during this lunch did silverware drop on the floor, bread debris float in my water glass, or food, eaten in haste, burn the roof of my mouth. I got to taste every bite of my delicious artisan macaroni and cheese.

Do I feel a tinge of guilt about being so gleeful to spend some time away from my son? Absolutely. Am I itching to go pick him up from daycare and smother his beautiful face with kisses? Absolutely.

And…am I going to drop him off at daycare for another “me” day tomorrow? Absolutely.

God bless my vacations with my son, and God bless daycare for the vacation away from him.

261755_10150290602379874_2436766_nRachel

 

 

 

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