Nature vs. Nurture

This time around, it's all in the genes.

The other day Gobbles came to work with me since his summer schedule consists of Wednesdays with Grandma instead of school, and Grandma took some time off to go to the beach.  So, I brought my little man on a date to my office.  Things were going as well as could be expected with a child in the office, he watched movies, raced cars, snuggled on my lap while I typed a report, and asked what's THAT? to just about everything.  He made post-it artwork and was a big boy about the potty, excitedly shutting me out of the stall when he had to go.

Gobbles paraded proudly up and down the hallway grabbing things from the printer for me and delivering papers to the proper people.  He was very impressed to eat lunch with me in our little kitchen and was even more fascinated with the fact that his Thomas lunch bag magically appeared out of the office fridge.  After lunch, I turned down the lights in my office and laid out his nap mat in an attempt to get some uninterrupted things done. 

The next 45 minutes consisted of Gobbles playing with the bottom filing cabinet drawer and jumping / rolling around on his sleeping bag, basically doing everything but sleeping.  I gave up and decided it would just be another day without a nap, since they only seem to happen once in awhile now.  My son went about his business chatting it up with my coworkers, collecting little knickknacks that they offered him, and then he returned into my office with his favorite prize.

A pair of Twix bars.  See, our admin has a little basket on her desk with fun size chocolate, and had asked if she could give him some candy after lunch.  Sure, I told her, but just one.  Trying to pander favor with Gobbles (and pointing out I didn't elaborate on "just one"), she let him choose from her secret stash of full size candy, which I didn't realize until after I called her up half laughing half in shock that my son was clutching a long thin chocolate bar in each hand with an iron grip.  Have I mentioned she doesn't have kids?  I guess that can be her excuse.

Anyway, the combination of no nap and a chocolate high sent things downhill by about 4, so I started packing up.  Gobbles threw a monster tantrum that echoed through the halls of my small office even when the door was closed.  Thank God the people I work with are the coolest people ever and didn't seem to care... one of the VPs even called Gobbles into his office when we were on our way out and told him next time he comes in he'll have to play with some of the construction trucks that are in his office.

So- a long day at my work without my running around time + no nap + chocolate sets the stage for Gobbles' mood that evening.  First, we swung by daycare to pick up the Lil Lobster Roll, where Gobbles proceeded to kick one of her teachers in the shin as a greeting.  Completely embarrassed, I ushered the kids out and explained to him how what he did was not nice and that he hurt his teacher's feelings.  He then required an explanation on what it means to "hurt someone's feelings".  The simplest way I could put it was when you're not nice to someone, and they go from being happy to being sad.

Fast forward to bedtime, when Gobbles is throwing a tantrum for his father.  This one was the most epic one yet, as Daddy had told him it was time for a bath and for bed, but Gobbles wanted to throw things around instead.  When timeout was called, Gobbles began kicking and screamed in a shrill voice he'd never used before "No no NO daddy! You are HURTING MY FEELINGS!!!"

I balked from the bathroom, where I had been bathing the Lil Lobster Roll.  I've definitely heard that voice before.  In fact, I invented that voice as far as I know.  A voice as if your world is being torn apart by the most awful things in the world - your illogical parents, who just don't get it. And the approach?  Using something I just learned and throwing that back in their face?  Yup, guilty as charged. 

I looked at hubs with wide eyes and asked him if he ever remembers me reacting to him in that manner in the last two years, thinking Gobbles had to have seen it somewhere.  "No", said my confused husband, "why?"

Because I just looked into a mirror of my past.  Because that voice, that attitude, is something I used constantly between the ages of 12 and 18 when I would fight with my parents.  We already knew he was stubborn, but my God - my son is my son through and through, and it looks like while some habits are learned, others are definitely ingrained in your genetic structure.  And my mother is off and laughing, finally getting her justice, her win for those countless arguments.  I wish you have children just like you.

Lord help me when this child becomes a teenager.

Oh Yea - just another thing that makes me just. like. mommy.  My affinity for chocolate.

Last Week, Past Week

I'm almost finished my last week of my "extended" maternity leave... and the past week has been nonstop chaos in the gobblestime household. 

Let's start with the past week.  Last Wednesday started out pretty normal, until hubs got a call that his dad was being transported to HUP via ambulance because his local hospital wasn't equipped to handle him.  Father-in-law, with a history of heart issues, had been having some chest pains and went to his routine appointment thinking he would have some caths replaced.  When the doctors took a look they deemed it much worse and ordered open heart surgery.  When hubs said it was likely we'd have to cancel plans for the wedding he was in on Friday, I realized this was pretty serious. 

Sis-in-law came down right away and she and hubs went down to spend time with their dad before his surgery, which was scheduled for Thursday morning.  After Gobbles got a horrible nights' sleep on Wednesday, he slept in pretty late Thursday, so despite having a few showings and a vet appointment, I kept both kids home with me as well.  As soon as we woke up we called hubs for an update.  The Penn doctors had re-reviewed Pop's charts, and decided that they could do what the doctors at the other hospital weren't capable of, and place a few stints in the arteries at his heart.  Everyone was relieved to hear this because the risks and recovery are so much better.  Instead of being in the ICU for over a week, he'd only be in for a day or so.  By Thursday afternoon, hubs decided we would be attending the wedding, but he wouldn't be making the rehearsal which was Thursday evening 3 hours away in North Jersey. 

Meanwhile, at home, the battle over bedtime continued with Gobbles' nap not happening because of the timing of the vet appointment, the Lobster Roll's nap was not happening because of Gobbles' incessant screaming, and I was an emotional mess because I had spent the day contemplating hubs' health fate since he has the same heart as his father, who had his first attack in his early 40s.  So by the end of the day all I wanted was a glass of wine and a hug from my husband.  My mother, God Bless Her, took the kids 12 hours earlier than planned - that evening instead of the next day.  As exhausted as we were, hubs and I took advantage and went out for a last minute late dinner, down at our new favorite suburban byob - Styers Garden Cafe at Terrain.  Farm fresh 5 course tasting.  YUM.

The next morning was more running around as hubs gave the lawn a much needed mow (for the weekend's showings), and I ran the dogs down to the boarder and got a quick haircut.  We were finally wedding-bound with my sister in tow around noon (her hubs, also in the wedding, had gone up Thursday).  We got a text from said brother in law when we were still on the road asking how far we were - as hubs was needed for pictures.  Hilarity ensued as we drove up the highway while he tried to put on a three piece tailed tux in the backseat.  We finally got to the hotel, after first going to the wrong one (two Hyatt's in the same town?  Stupid jersey!) just as the wedding party was ready to go.  Sis and I rushed off to get ready. 

The wedding ceremony was beautiful, and this couple is one of my favorite couples - they're the type that are so genuinely sweet and considerate that they almost make me feel bad about myself for being the a-hole that I am.  Having been to a million church weddings including my own, they're typically all the same.  This one was even more beautiful though because the groom had recently converted so the couple was all involved in the church, and the priest was able to speak about them as he knew - it really made the ceremony extra special.  And the food at the reception?  I knew it was going to be good considering we were in North Jersey / practically Manhattan, but I didn't realize I'd be scraping clean the crab dip pot or chasing around the lamb chop guy during cocktail hour.  I normally don't even like lamb chops.  Of course I drank my fill (plus some) and partied the night away, with just a few breaks to pump in the bathroom when the milk started to flow...

Next morning, or should I say 3 hours after I went to bed, I woke up with horrible horrible pain in my boobs, and a little in my head.  Thinking my mastitis had returned, I went into the bathroom and pumped pumped pumped, but nothing was coming out.  Of course I didn't drink enough to replace the pumping dehydration, let alone deal with the hangover, so I was in rough shape by the time we checked out and went to breakfast.  I couldn't get down any of the food because my chest hurt too much and just wanted to get into the car and hooked up to the pump, thinking if I could relieve the chest pain the rest of me would feel better.  It was a temporary solution, and as hubs drove I finally got some milk out and got them to unclog.  Just as I got my pump put away, the queasiness set in.  I had just enough time to grab a gallon sized ziploc bag that was intended to carry pump parts before i lost it.  The few bites of breakfast and the dinner the night before... let's just say the bag was full when we pulled over on the side of the road to dump it... ugh.  I'm just glad I was neat about getting sick and that the bag had no holes.... And I'm mad at myself because I'm not going to be able to drink my face off at a wedding this coming weekend for fear of not recovering in time for my first day of work (Sorry Kite!).  #breastfeeding momma problems, ha!

Anyway, back to the last week, so Saturday and half of Sunday were spent recovering, and off to the local funfair we went on Sunday afternoon.  I think my poor son is more fearful than me - we were in line for these dogs that went around in a circle (think dumbo ride, but smaller), and he lost it.  No Dogs!  They scare me!  They go in a circle buds, come on!  So I asked if he wanted the school bus instead, which basically went around in a vertical circle (like a ferris wheel but really small).  He agreed.  No sooner had the guy shut the door to the ride when Gobbles let out a WAIL.  Like he was being tortured, he started screaming - Get off.  Get OFF.  I DONT LIKE IT GET OFF!!  So yea he kinda ruined it for everyone around us, oh well.  Live and learn.  We decided no more motion rides, and I took him on this plaything where you walked through a hall of mirrors, up some steps, then down a slide.  Nope, wouldn't take that either.  At this point we were kinda over the fair and walked home, Gobbles whining the whole way. 

It wasn't until after dinner that we realized why - the poor kid had a fever of 102.  We started rattling off the list - does your belly hurt? No.  Throat hurt? No. Teeth Hurt?  No.  Ear Hurt?  No. no. no.  Since everything was a no and 102 isn't high we let it go figuring we'd see how he was.  The only problem was that he was so cranky and so whiny so we kept him home from school Monday.  The fever came and went over Monday so I called the peditrician on Tuesday and they said with no other symptoms just keep monitoring it and resting.  By Tuesday afternoon he was fine and we planned to bring him back to school Wednesday.  Of course that's when it hit.  Gobbles went to bed ok Tuesday night, cranky and exhausted from me having had to drag him out of the house for a showing and for my eye dr appointment (trying to get it all in before I go back to work).  He woke up in the middle of the night sweating profusely and screaming.  His face was pale and he looked like he had jumped from a swimming pool into bed, so we changed him and paged the pediatrician.  A few minutes later he was sleeping soundly again, this time in our bed.  We all fell asleep assuming the pediatrician would call back if it was something to be worried about - I'd had a hunch that I've just never seen a child sweat out a fever. 

The doctor called back in the morning and told us to bring him in just to be safe, so they checked and turns out my boy had viral tonsillitous!  His throat was enflamed but strep cultures came back negative, meaning he could return to school upon feeling better.  (His fever didn't come back after Tuesday night).  He spend Wednesday watching episode after episode of Barney (thank you Netflix for the damn Adventure Bus and your damn songs about elephants and pizza).  He also took a long nap and woke up in the cold sweat again, but finally, after sleeping all night last night, woke up bright and cheery and ready for school (until we got there).

Dropoff today was pure hell because he'd been out for a week straight, I could only imagine how horrible he'd be if he had spent 3 months at home with me - it would have taken a month to get back into the routine instead of a day.   And my poor lil lobster roll was in school all week being a happy smiley angel because I wanted to keep her away from Gobbles in case he was contageous.  Today they're both there so I can clean up the house and get prepped for work and all (and heck, we're paying for it), and tomorrow I'll have one last day off with my little girl - manis pedis perhaps?

So to sum up we've had a rough week in this house...

but we've come out full of smiles:

View from the floor in a toddler's tiny room on a random Wednesday night

I don't know why potential buyers hate this room so much.  Sure, it's small, but there's enough room for an adult to lay comfortably on the floor next to the bed while waiting for a restless child to drift off to sleep.  

I hear him tossing and turning on the Toy Story sheets and wonder what he's thinking.  What goes through his mind as he's trying to fall asleep?  The stress of school the next day?  The worry that Mommy's yelling "Go to SLEEP" would echo in his dreams?

I remove my glasses and study the room as it looks through nearsighted eyes, although mine aren't as bad as his I can get the idea.  Maybe the shadows cast on the ceiling from the nightlight and the fan wig him out. Maybe the Disney pictures, blurred from the darkness but still lined up neat as pins contribute to his OCD.   The stuffed moose perched atop his giant blue piggy bank unknowingly shows up like devil horns on the wall behind.

The shuffling above me stops and I see a tiny head peeking out of the covers and over the side of the bed.  Guilty, I stop typing and whisper "go to sleep buddy" and hypocritically return to my phone.  Just 14 hours ago  I woke up from this very bed, having come in to relieve a 5am night terror and was just too tired to get up and leave. Am I encouraging bad habits?  This will end someday, and beyond that I will yearn for times like these, when my son sleeps just feet away and is only comforted by the presence of mommy... He tosses over again and I put the phone down for another moment.

The collection of hats hanging on monkey hooks catch my eye.  Gobbles hates hats, but has somehow acquired quite an array, from fire hats to cowboy, sno-bum to beach bum. I wonder if we ever do sell this house, will he remember this room?  Or will his "memories" be driven by the videos of himself he watches over and over again on my phone?

The house is calm after the battle of bedtime, from the screaming and the tears once again gobbles has emerged the victor, hence the reason I am on this floor. I gaze up at the mishmash of toys that hubs and I supplied from our own collections to line the shelves when we decorated this "nursery" almost 3 years ago and feel like it was just yesterday. It reminds me yet again that though the terrible twos are afoot, they will be gone in a blink of an eye. Gobbles buds, I love you little boy- mommy will always be here to comfort you to sleep when you need her. 

Mommy wishes for me to sleep and not fight her on naps and bedtime!

But I have more important things in mind

I wish for trucks.  Fire engines and dump trucks and backhoes and a CAR.TRANS.POR.TER!

another middle of the night post

that i wrote last Friday night and just found in my email...

 It's 3:04 am as I rock the lil lobster roll to the puttering of rain against the window. Trying to wake her up to nurse from the other side even though she ate for 6 minutes already... Lightning brighter than day lights flashes behind the pink curtains followed by a tremendous thunder. Less concerned about my little girl waking up, I strain to hear if there are cries coming from Gobbles room. I wonder if he does wake up, will he need to come cuddle in our bed or require one of us to hunker down in his room, surely he'll need us since it's his first storm without the pacifier. It's 3:12 now and the lightning is more sparse and thunder is fading. The rain slows too. The storm has passed and the house is silent. There is no waking up this baby now, so I'll lay her back in her crib and hope she'll sleep until daylight. A 7 hour stretch of sleep behind us, we know our time in this rocker is limited, for which I am thankful and a little wistful. Her infancy is passing with the quickness of a spring thunderstorm...

You've served me well dear pacifier, but it's time to say goodbye.

When Gobbles was a baby, there was nothing we could do to get a good nights' sleep.  Ok, even when he was a toddler, same thing.  So far his sister is proving a better sleeper, and we hope that continues.  One of the things that actually helped get him to sleep was his pacifier.  Who knew a little piece of plastic and rubber could mean so much to a kid?  We used it to soothe him from being fussy early in life, but somewhere around a year or so, we designated it to be a "crib only" object - he could have it for sleeping and very necessary times (like when he was sick), but that was it.  At his two year doctor visit, the pediatrician told us that it was ok to continue the paci use in this fashion until he's more settled with the baby coming and a possible move.

Two weeks ago Gobbles' teacher informed us that he had been napping without his school pacifier for a few weeks.  I think she is getting him ready to make the transition to preschool which will happen sometime in the next 2-3 months.  We decided to go along with what she was doing because we knew it had to happen sometime....

So, 10 days ago, on a Sunday night, after prepping Gobbles all weekend that the paci was going byebye, we bid farewell.  We did his bedtime routine and read his stories, and when he asked for the paci we told him, sorry, but it's gone.  It didn't go so well.  My poor baby cried and cried and I tried to soothe him, but the more I soothed him the more angry he got, and between sobs he just kept asking for his paci.  Finally, hubs stepped in, since I was starting to get upset myself.  I left Gobbles' room to tend to the Lobster Roll and the crying stopped, but hubs did not emerge.  Tired myself, I put the little girl to bed and settled in myself.  When I got up a few hours later to feed the baby, hubs was still in Gobbles room.  I quietly entered to find him snoring on the floor.  So we replaced the pacifier with good old fashioned laying in his room until he falls asleep?  Not quite the effect we were looking for.  Night 1 fail.

The next night went miraculously a lot better.  A few wimpers and extra cries at bedtime, but Gobbles went to sleep on his own, with each night getting progressively better.  There were still middle of the night calls, but this time we didn't have to do a hands and knees blind search around the room for the paci, just gave Gobbles a sip of water and off he went back to dream street.

Cut to Friday, the first day Gobbles was home with me last week (we had showings all week and a baptism party to prep for, so he was at school a lot), and we come to nap time.  Like usual, when I proposed a nap he willingly went up, but then as I was leaving the room he inquired about the paci.  I informed him that we don't use it anymore, remember?  And the tantrum began.  I told him it's ok if he didn't nap but he had to stay in his room and play quietly.  After about 20 minutes of screaming I went in to check on him where he said ok, he was ready to nap, just wanted to hug the dog and go to sleep.  I called Spoons in and she hopped into Gobbles bed.  I offered for her to stay there with him while he napped and he agreed.  I left the room and within a few minutes I heard a smack smack smack on the monitor.  Gobbles was actually hitting the dog, his most beloved family member ever.  I burst into the room and screamed Gobbles!  We do NOT hit the dog!  and the poor pup bolted past me to escape her aggressor.  The tantrums begun again and I realized that there would be no nap for the day.  We calmed ourselves down and made our way back downstairs for a quiet afternoon.

That evening of course he went to bed fine, but the next day's nap was even more laughable.  With hubs home and a pending 3:15 showing we knew we had to get him down early if we wanted any hope.  We put Gobbles up and this time there was no tantrum, but he happily played by himself in his room.  Every half hour or so hubs went up and gently reminded Gobbles that he should be napping.  Finally, around 2:00, it appeared Gobbles would nap, as he threw his pillow back on his bed (he had been laying on his floor reading books) and started to lay down.  But then in his deliriously overtired state he started playing once more, so there was nothing else I could do but take a video of his jibberish.  Finally, 15 minutes before he had to be woken up and dragged out of the house for the showing, Gobbles fell asleep peacefully.  Of course when I tried to transport him from the bed to the car he woke up (the reverse usually works just fine), but at least I know he got himself down.

Sunday with the Lobstah's baptism (another post altogether), Gobbles skipped a nap again, so by night he was exhausted and went to bed at 6:30.  I'm hoping to try again this weekend and get him back in a napping routine since he can do it at school without the pacifier.  But in the meantime, at night he has not asked for it, and save for 1 night this week when he woke up screaming for me to sleep in his bed (we think it was a nightmare and were able to calm him after 15 minutes), he's been a star sleeper without it.  And I'm trying to find other ways to put the Lil Lobster Roll to sleep so that she doesn't get addicted to this powerful little trinket, because I definitely do not want to go through paci goodbye again!

In the meantime - Gobbles 90 minutes in to "trying" to go down for a nap...

Behind

i'm like 5 posts behind where i want to be.  so much has gone on in the past few weeks and as the 11 remaining weeks i have in this pregnancy are threatening to tick down, i'm getting more and more stressed... we're not ready.  we need to sell this house.  we need to get into a new one.  why the rush?  because if i have to transition poor gobbles to a new room not once but twice, he's going to freak.  all of the sudden his daybed is no good, and every night he's at the door crying and throwing pacis and blankies and trying to weasel his way into our bed.

it's been working.  hubs has been working 80 hour weeks for what seems like months now, so it's been up to me to take care of the nighttime stuff.  completely stressed out about my own work, not to mention the panic of needing to sell this house, i have not gotten a full nights sleep as it is.  this stress coupled with the joys of the third trimester have led me to just bringing our crying Gobbles into our bed after a second or third wakeup at night.  It seems to be the only way to soothe both of us. 

we've had so many good things happen recently that i needed to make this venting a separate post and be done with it.  Halloween and snow and playdates and the latest addition to the family are a few of the exciting things i need to record, so i can make room in my head for more - upcoming holidays, Gobble's second birthday, and eventually the arrival of his little sister!

another hodgepodge of thoughts, including teething and puppies!

I've been thinking to myself, if I can keep this blog updated once a week, then I'll be happy with that.  There's at least 52 memories a year that I'll be documenting.  Sure, it's virtual, not like the baby book we can put on our coffee table for everyone to look at, but, we actually retired the coffee table this week anyway so the little man has room to explore, so it looks like everything works out.

Remember my very first blog, when I thought Gobbles was teething?   Well, I suppose being a first time mother I started out in a rush for milestones, because, finally, over 5 months later, we finally have a tooth.  Two, actually.  One in the back right side of his mouth, and another right up front, both on bottom.  They've cut through the gums, but aren't fully up yet, just teeny sharp points poking right through.  Now, as with every physical change that happens with this child, I'm in a mild state of panic - did I get enough pictures of the gummy smile before the teeth?  I'm actually kicking myself for only having had one professional photo session back at 4 months.  A coworker of mine has a 10 week old son, and she's been to Penny's four times.  So by the time her kid is Gobbles' age, she's going to have at least a dozen or more professional shoots under her belt.  Did I make a mistake by cheaping out on this?  We already screwed the pooch by running out of the hospital before the photog there could get any shots - I was scared of the lactation consultant, ok?

I know it's really ok though, considering the thousands of pictures we have on our computer, and that enough will be hard to live up to for number 2.  Now since the little guy is mobile, we've turned more towards video, just watching him crawl around the room, chasing the dogs, and having ADD from toy to toy.  The three hours at night that we spend playing before he crashes are both rewarding and exhausting.  I do not know if I would have such a great appreciation for this if I had to do it all day long.  The balance of adult time at work while yearning for a hug and a sloppy kiss from my son, followed by the fulfillment of getting just that (and usually much more) is enough to make me sleep soundly (on hub's duty nights) and be less stressed. 

So for the time being, things are moving along swimmingly and we are all happy as can be...

Except of course for the curse of the grandma.  For some reason, the first night follwing an overnight visit to Grandma's house is pure hell for everyone.  Every time, consistently since March.  We'll get a great report from Grandma about how well he slept, and how much fun he is, then he'll come home and the Curse of Grandma begins.  Bedtime that night consists of fighting it for about an hour before we can finally soothe Mr. Gobbles to sleep.  Within 45 minutes of falling asleep, he is up screaming again.  More soothing followed by a half hour of sleep.  Usually that night he'll either end up in our bed or in someones arms on the couch for the remainder of the night (as these nights are usually Sundays, and we don't want to set a bad tone for the week by getting NO sleep).  The next day at daycare, he'll sleep a little more than usual, and by the 2nd night home from Grandma's he's just about fine.  We cannot figure out what it is about his visits to Grandma - he LOVES going over there and enjoys himself throughout his entire stay.  He'll eat, sleep, and play just like normal until that first bedtime home. 

For now, our solution is just to switch off who gets duty that first night back, and just assume that we'll have to work a little harder that night (and we give ourselves the ok to go to the couch, or bring him into bed, knowing that it's just for the one night).  It's been working so far, and we have no problems getting him back to normal on the 2nd night home. 

Coming up for the Gobbles man, a trip to the beach followed by a few attempts to get these pearly whites on camera!

In the meantime, since I am blogging from work and don't have any recent photos, a word from Cannoli about being chased by this... thing?

Seriously mommy - you leave for four days all fat and cranky and come home all happy with this thing?  It's a little scary - it won't move, right?  it's not going to chase me or anything, promise?? 

Ok, now it's a little bigger, and it's sitting up, but i'm still the only one who comes when you call, let's keep it that way.  And i'm bigger than this thing, see, look how well i listen to you, i'm so attentive.  i'm the best and you'll never share my toys with it, right?

WAIT!  What is this?  why is it tummy time?  is it going to walk like i do, on all fours? better get familiar with him the way i do other dogs.... just in case.

Mommy, that was only the beginning, and you know it.  when you would hold him up to my face and sit his chair near me you never told me that eventually he'd get to me himself.  you were still working when daddy took the video camera and laughed as this Gobbles thing chased me around the room when i chased my ball.  I think you need to put a leash on him, or at the very least keep him away from my toys.  i know you moved that coffee table just for me, so i have more room to spread out all my toys.  tell him to keep his drums, farmset, and beach ball out of my space!  Even spoons has just run to her bed everytime this guy pulls on her tail!  it's chaos!

So, as you can see, the dogs are still nervous about the baby.  Probably because just when they are comfortable with him and what he does, he does something else.  They'll just have to get used to him, I know in time they are going to be Gobble's best friends.

milestones and sleep training and body parts, oh my!

ahhh. excuse me while a breathe a deep sigh of relief. i survived one of the craziest weeks of my life, and came out virtually unscathed. sure i'm still busy, but i'm grounded. not getting on another plane for 4 months, and when i do it will be of my own decision.

like last week, i'm blogging with a glass of wine in my hand, but this time it's homemade cabernet and i'm settled comfortably on my couch with my husband and son a few feet from me, the little gobbles talking to his paci as he pulls it in and out of his mouth in attempt to fall asleep. he'll make it to his crib eventually, but we're waiting until he's a but more tired. tonight will be the second night of sleep training.

on monday our little boy hit the 8 month mark. after he recovered from being ill last week, he not only began full out crawling, but also stood up in his crib forcing us to lower the mattress, got his big boy carseats installed (still rear facing of course), and developed the ever feared separation anxiety. any time hubs or i leave the room, gobbles will start to whine and, when we happen to leave him in the crib in a dark room, the whine will quickly escalate into a full on wail. clean diaper, check. bottle fed, check. hugs and kisses, check. but as soon as we step away from the crib, the wailing begins.

wow. this kid is smart. for months any sign of a whimper i'd be by his side, what's wrong little boy? don't worry, mommy will make it all right. what have i done? because of this, monday night we decided it was time. though it broke my heart, we realized that 8 months is old enough to cry just a little at bedtime. besides, now that the man is crawling, it's not safe for him to come into our bed when he is restless.

after i gave him his bedtime bottle and got him all snuggly into his crib, the training began. as soon as i stepped away the crying started. i walked quietly out of the room and settled into bed to watch the monitor. the next 9 minutes were pure torture as i watched my son flail his arms and legs and cry to the point of hysterics. i also realized that this is exactly what i do when hubs and i have those rare fights where i know he's right, but i cry so hard i hyperventilate, and subconsciously i know it's all for some attention. gobbles is definitely my son.

when time was up, i went in, rubbed his belly, bent down to give my baby a kiss and tell him i loved him. his crying ceased with the initial touch, and started back up with full force as i exited the room. i think i heard a little laugh escape in the moments i was soothing him, he probably thought to himself, ha, now i've got her. the second 10 minutes were shortened to about 7 because he got to the point where he was so angry he threw his paci out of the crib, and i felt like i had to retrieve it. the next set gobbles decided to crawl all around his crib and stand up and scream, so he lucked out at the end of that one, getting a big hug before being put back down. finally, somewhere around the 40 or 50 minute mark, after 5 visits of reassurance, the wail slowed to a small whine before quickly fading into a rhythmatic snore.

he slept well through the night, which he does a few times a week, but we're hoping this will teach him to not expect to be brought into our bed on the nights he doesn't sleep well. from everything i've read it only takes 3-4 nights of this until you have a happy, self sleeping baby. unfortunately last night and tonight he fell asleep in our arms on the couch before we had a chance to play cry it out.  last night on the few occasions he did wake up, he cried for a few minutes and went back to sleep on his own.  here's to hoping that will continue.

if the sleep training doesn't work out after a few tries, then we'll move on and try other methods. but in the meantime, we're hoping this will translate into his daytime behavior as well so he will learn not to be upset every time we leave the room. he'll soon realize that we would never leave him, every minute of my day is spent in anticipation of coming back to him. i definitely cannot get enough of my baby, who is slowly but surely growing into a little boy with a big personality.

Hey Momma!  You forgot to tell them my greatest milestone -
 I discovered my tongue!!!

Hey Puppy!  Why don't you help me bust outta this joint?

Ew mommy why would you pierce something like this? did that affect your pllffffttt sounds???
It was high school little buddy. Mommy thought she was cool once.  Don't worry, she now embraces her dorkiness and accepts her position as a mommy.  just without the mom jeans or the mom haircut.  Because then daddy would leave her.  just kidding.
ok maybe if i got the haircut he would, but don't worry, this hair hasn't changed since 6th grade.  we're good.

Da da da, i'm not listening!  You talk way too much mommy,
 just look at my tongue, it's AWESOME!

Ok, ok, tongue's away!  Let me out now??

Just another typical night. Plus weaning.

I may look innocent, but inside I am calculating just the right time to cry in order to get the most "mommy guilt" return on my investment

Last night was rough.  Gobbles knows what he wants, when he wants it, and how to get it.  This little man has more power over me than anyone ever has in my life.  Well except maybe Donnie Wahlberg.  Such power that he had me in hysterics a few hours before I was headed out to sign the contract for my new job.  Questioning everything.

It was hubs "turn" last night, to deal with the baby in every which way but feeding, as the nighttime feedings, though rare, still fall on me.  Gobbles went to sleep pretty easily last night, and I should have known it was too good to be true.  He hadn't quite finished his "half breastmilk / half formula" bottles at daycare yesterday, and coming off of the first weekend with boobie only twice a day, he was aching for a little more. 

Cue the midnight screaming.  I mean wailing.  Hubs finally got out of bed, after making sure of course that I was awake to the point of worry, and went in to take care of the baby.  Clean diaper, hugs and kisses from Daddy, paci replacement.  More crying.  I sat up in bed and rolled my shirt, knowing what was coming... Sweets, I think he's hungry. 

Of course.  Strangely enough, this only happens on his nights.  I fed Gobbles for a few minutes and he pulled off, satisfied. (He has become a little champ - can clear a boob in under 5 minutes now).  I gave him a hug and a kiss, and handed him back to hubs to go back to his crib.  Being that it was only midnight, it wasn't close enough to morning for us to bring him into the bed, we've been trying to hold that off until at least 4am.

As I was handing him back, the hysteria began.  Our child was inconsolable as my husband left the room with him in his arms.  It took all of about 5 seconds for me to realize what I'd done.  The poor kid just wanted to hang out with his Momma after spending the majority of his waking day at daycare.  Overwhelmed by guilt, I started crying hysterically too.  I ran into the nursery to get him, pulled him from husbands arms, and held him close to me.  The baby's sobbing quickly stopped, only making my tears come harder. 

Hubs was now thoroughly confused, and seemingly more concerned to make sure all my "helping" wasn't going to negate the fact that this was "his" night and I'd still be on baby duty tomorrow.  I tried to explain what was wrong, how I felt, and what I assumed Gobbles was thinking about only getting his boobie twice a day now.  Poor kid doesn't know why.  Hubs, being that ever so sympathetic and sensitive man that I married, told me Babies cry.  That's what they do.  I began to question everything again, working mom verses stay at home, if it's going to ruin the baby to have him sleep in our bed yet again.  Hubs drifted off to sleep somewhere during me chattering on, sick of the same conversation that I always have.  Gobbles hugged my neck, gave me his "kisses", and babbled back to me, which of course swept away any fear or anxiety that had come over me.  I set up his boppy "nest" between our pillows and we too finally fell asleep. 

The emotional shift I am experiencing combined with the difference in physical closeness that Gobbles is going through is making this more difficult than I had pictured.  I would have thought it was all just a horrible dream if not for waking up to an Ahhh- aaaahhhh! in my ear, *slapslapslap* on my hand, and wide-eyed gummy grin I saw when I finally opened my eyes this morning.

As the alarm went off, I heard my husband redeem himself with just one sentence.  He said to our son,  It's a good thing you're cute buddy, otherwise I don't know if you'd be able to get away with this.  Look at all you put your mommy through. 

And with that, we're back on the same page.  At least until tonight's bedtime battle.

the gift of sleep

does he look tired? he should be. it's official. my little boy is no longer sleeping through the night. in fact, we may as well have just brought him home from the hospital. he's that bad, and it's been a week. how could this be? i read babywise cover to cover, did the eat, wake, sleep cycles for months, and had him sleeping through the night (9 hours at a time!) at 10 weeks. how could it all just fall apart? i think i managed to get 4 hours of sleep last night, all in 45 minute spurts.

for once i know it's not hunger that is keeping the gobbles awake. it's the need to be soothed, to make sure we're still there. he stops crying the minute i get into his room and look over him. in fact, he breaks out into a huge grin when i get in there "Playtime!" his eyes scream with delight. maybe somehow he knows that daycare is just 19 days away (sigh) and is trying to embrace all the time he can get with me. the only thing way he's been able to sleep more than 2 hours is by bringing him into our bed, letting him chill on his boppy between our pillows. i know, i know, call CPS. this was one of the many things i swore i would never do when i became a mom. but just like eating at the table, watching my language, and simply showering daily, all plans are out the window.

last night we attempted to start the controversial ferber method, which is basically letting the baby cry it out for short periods (starting at 5 minutes each), then heading in to soothe. you're supposed to gradually increase the amount of time between soothings. i think it was much harder on me than it was him. somewhere around the 8 minute mark after the umpteenth time of replacing his pacifier, i lost it. i turned down the monitor hoping i couldn't hear him, but our walls are thin. so i gave up. i went in, scooped up my baby, and brought him into our bed, whispering in his ear how sorry i was and promising him i'd never do it again. yet here i am, as i'm writing this, watching him fall asleep on the monitor and hoping he'll actually nap. i've depended on the swing so much for naps, but the poor kid is running out of time to learn to fall asleep on his own during the day, or else he'll never nap at daycare.

i now understand why there are so many spoiled kids out there. listening to your child cry is the most painful thing in the world. it'd be so much easier to just pick them up, use a temporary fix to stop the crying. i think this sleep training thing is as much to train the parents to not respond to every little whine as much as it is for the child to soothe themselves.

well, gobbles has started to cry, and it looks like i've failed again this morning, because i'm off to pick him up and cuddle with him. i'm so sorry son, i love you so much. hopefully momma will be a little braver tonight.

3 Months!

I'll love you forever,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living

my baby you'll be.

-Robert Munsch

dear mr. gobbles,

well little man, we've hit a milestone, you're 3 months old today. has it really been 90 days (and nights!) since your daddy and i first met you? you still seem so brand new to me, even though you've almost doubled in size already. i just want to freeze everything, and have you remain like this for a little while longer.

you talk (don't know what you're saying, but i'm sure it's along the lines of "mommy you are my bestest friend"), you smile, you giggle. you look around the room for me when you hear my voice. you get a smug, relieved look on your face as you poop your pants on my lap. you look curiously at the dogs and they eye you with the same curiosity right back. you hate tummy time and scream like you're being tortured until you're flipped back over. you snort as you stretch waking up from a nap. you snort from excitement when you're about to eat! and all that jersey shore watching during your first few weeks helped you perfect the fist pump.

last night when i was done feeding you, you looked up at me and grinned, raised your fist, then stuck your thumb in your mouth and started sucking. when you did it again this morning, i asked your daddy if i should pull it out or let you go with it. he smiled and said we're not going to be able to stop you, and if you're going to need braces someday then you'll need them regardless. i think he is just as much a sucker for you as i am. we'll learn to say no when you're a little older, i promise (it'll be for your own good!).

each night when i put you to bed, i imagine that i cannot possibly love you more than i do at that moment, but somehow each morning i wake up and see you smiling up at me and am overcome with a feeling that today i love you even more. and those nights that you do sleep through the night (two in a row this week!), as grateful as i am, i still wake up and check the monitor, wondering if you'll be asking for me or not. i'm sure when your sleep becomes regular, there will be a teeny part of me that misses our special time at night. when the entire world is sleeping, silence all around us (except for daddy's snoring on the other side of the nursery wall), and it's just the two of us, ready to face whatever tomorrow will bring us.

well, you're starting to wake up from your morning nap, so it's time for us to start the day.

i love you so much,
momma

ps. you may recognize the quote from that book i read you once called Love You Forever. i love the quote, but the story itself is pretty creepy, so you probably won't hear me read it anymore. and i promise no matter how much i love you, i will not sneak around to give you hugs after the age of 8. (ok maybe 18 but come college i swear i'll let go!)