Monday, 20 April 2015

"Have Kids", They Said...


"Have Kids" They Said.
"It'll Be Fun", They Said...

I never realised just how much noise our bones and ligaments and tendons make when we move our appendages around. That was, until my eight month old recently became unwell. The poor thing was a mess, he was waking up with dried snot smeared across his little chubby cheeks, and developed a cough that made it sound as if he had been a life long chain smoker. He was not in a good way.
He was a trooper in the beginning. Still managing to sleep and eat and poop, sticking to some kind of regular schedule, but the sicker he became, the harder it was to settle him - especially at bedtime. Been there?
I know many parents will relate to patting them to sleep in your arms and going in for the 'transfer', crossing your fingers for success. This worked for my little Frankie, however in order to keep him asleep, I had to continue the patting and ssshhhing gig once he was successfully transferred to the cot. I had to squeeze my arm through the bars and continue with a firm pat on the bottom, careful not to miss a beat.
Then - like many of you I'm sure, I try to slowly phase out the pats. The fast rhythm I started with begins to slow. Eventually I am at one decent pat every eight seconds or so, and the baby is maintaining his standard sleep position.
The trouble starts for me once the patting has stopped and I have to get up somehow, to make my escape and let my breath go. I try to remove my arm from his bottom without him noticing. He flinches a little so I immediately put my hand back there, resting ever so gently.
I try again, and he doesn't move so I go for angling my hand between the cot bars without being seen, heard, smelt or sensed. I'm nearly there. Just my wrist remains in the danger zone. Getting excited, I accidentally pick up speed and my bracelet clinks against the metal bars. Frankie flinches. I panic. My hand goes straight back to his bottom.
I repeat this process until my arm is finally free. Now all I have left to do is stand up and walk out of the room. How hard can that be? I push up on my knees so I am standing - and as I do so, my knees complain with a loud clicking and cracking sound. Again, Frankie flinches, but this time his eyes pop open too.
What! No. Not after all the work I've put into this. It's been at least a forty-five minute exercise. I freeze completely, I'm not even breathing now and I close my eyes, silently praying that babies are like the Tyrannosaurus Rex in Jurassic Park; if you don't move in the darkness, then they can't see you. Eventually, and ever so slowly I silently exhale and step backwards towards the door. I can see the finish line! I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My bare feet make muffled crunchy footsteps on the carpet despite my slowness - the sound is amplified by my panicked and sleep deprived mind. My arms brush against my clothing as I move, making enough noise to cause Frankie to lift his head for a better look at me.
I hold still and try to wait it out, when suddenly he turns his head towards the wall-away from me- and lays down.
Yes! I'm home free. I back away towards the door, willing myself to refrain from celebrating until I'm sure I've won. I'm already imagining the block of top deck that's waiting for me on the lounge. As I back out, I miscalculate the width of my shoulders, banging directly into the doorway with an audible crash.
Frankie looks up at me. He is just staring at me, his bottom lip dropping and less than a moment later, he is positively howling.
I walk back into his room and try to make myself comfortable for the second attempt. Shake. Stir. Repeat.
"Have kids", they said. "It will be fun", they said. Ha. Lucky they are cute!
Happy start to the week Laners.
Tara xxxx
Image from http://www.theguardian.com
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