This post isn't actually about our flight home, during which we endured Poopmageddon, which probably is the worst thing that could happen, but about the stress of traveling with a baby - what causes it and what I did about it.
I thought a lot about the stress of traveling. A lot. I didn't quite obsess about it, but close. I was afraid. I was afraid that The Baby would be loud and obnoxious. This is what we all fear when we think about traveling with a baby, right? Or any kids for that matter. I don't think these feelings will magically go away when The Baby turns five or something. So I thought about what would be happening if The Worst happened and our baby was the obnoxious one ruining the flights of dozens of people around us. What would be happening?
It's not that I'm worried about the actual health and wellbeing of my child. At worst, she may be obnoxious because her ears hurt, and that's pain and it's real and as a parent, I will never want my child to experience pain of any kind. But it would pass, and she would be ok. So I'm not stressing about doing harm to my baby.
Without question, we would be making those around us uncomfortable, and for that, I would feel bad. We might get dirty looks from people. A monumental asshat may even make some comment, maybe ask us to move elsewhere in the plane? I mean, let's be real - unless your kid actually shits or vomits on a stranger, that's about as bad as it would get, right? So I thought, "well that's not that bad." And if it's not that bad, why am I so worried about it?
And it finally hit me: the stress is because I worry people will think I'm a bad parent. I worry that too many people, those without kids or who were magically blessed with easy babies, don't understand that you cannot, CANNOT, make a baby sleep if s/he doesn't want to. You can trot out every soothing technique ever devised, and none are guaranteed to work. A screaming baby is one of those things over which you only have so much control. So I worried that if my baby was upset, people would think it was my fault and that I was a bad parent.
Once I realized this, it got easier. I know I'm a good parent. Some days I'm only good enough, but a lot of days I'm a really good dad. So I'd tell myself that and it made me feel a little better. And you know what? When Poopmageddon happened, we got far more understanding nods than dirty looks. Stay tuned.
Monday, April 4, 2016
Friday, April 1, 2016
"A Good Father Would..."
Or, "a good husband would..." or, "a good dog owner would..."
Pausing my sure-to-be-award-winning series on traveling with baby because yesterday was Not A Good Day, which is not as bad as a Bad Day, but on that end of the spectrum. The Baby has been...off...this week, which is to say she went from being a really easy, predictable baby to being a little less easy. Nap times are off, nap quality is off, and she's been eating a TON. We assume she's gearing herself up to do something amazing.
Coincidental with that is The Wife is working one of her most demanding rotations. Without a fair amount of effort on our part, it would be very easy for her to see The Baby for 10 minutes in the morning. And that would be it. 10 minutes a day. I know for some that's just reality (and if that's you, I feel for you; there is nothing easy about it), but with some effort, we can make lunch visits work, and with a lot of effort, she can sometimes make it home for bedtime. This week, we tried getting The Baby up a little earlier so she could breastfeed. Normally we are absolute, no-holds-barred, over-my-dead-body strict about never waking a sleeping baby, but with the scheduling demands this week and since The Baby usually sleeps fitfully at best starting at about 5:30am, we decided it was worth a try.
So yesterday we got The Baby up at 6:00. She's usually good for an hour to an hour and a half before her first nap. Yesterday, I pushed it to 7:45. A good nap is an hour and a half to two hours. A bad nap is 30 minutes. First nap was a bad nap. No biggie. I'm proud to say I no longer live and die by the quality of any single nap on a given day. We got up, ate, and as expected, she faded faster than normal and was looking for nap two way early. On a normal day, nap two starts any time between 11:00 and noon. Yesterday I put her down at 10:00 or so, confident that as tired as she was, this would be a good, long nap.
It wasn't.
Nap two was also a bad nap. So now we're way ahead of schedule and while I'm not worried, I'm thinking about it. We run some errands, walk the dog, and I'm hoping that she gets back on track with nap three. Nap three is actually pretty good, but not good enough. She wakes from nap three at 3:00pm, which puts me right in the proverbial pickle. There's no way she'll make it to our desired bedtime of 6:00-6:30 without some kind of a cat nap, but she won't be tired until 4:30 or 5:00, which is a pretty late nap. No matter. Yesterday's motto was, "we do what we gotta do." So I put her down for a fourth nap at 4:30 and got her back up from that at 5:15 or so, hoping that it would keep her happy until 6:30 which would increase the odds that The Wife could make it home in time to say goodnight.
Not happening.
By 5:45 it was clear bedtime was going to be 6:00 or I would be in danger of putting my head through a wall. So mom doesn't get to say goodnight, which sucks and which makes me feel bad, The Baby is losing her shit, and when the baby loses her shit, it makes The Dog lose her shit, and when The Baby and The Dog lose their shit, it means I'm hanging on by a tiny little shred of sanity.
I lost it a little and yelled at the dog. She's a sweet, spunky little rescue dog and she's sensitive, so her tail goes between her legs and she starts trying to crawl under the furniture. I instantly hate myself for this. There are dozens of potential ways of handling a stressful situation like this one, but losing your cool and yelling is probably among the worst.
I start slipping into my shame spiral. A good father would've had his daughter in bed before she lost her shit. A good husband wouldn't have watched TV while The Baby napped; he would've finally gotten around to cleaning the floors. A good pet owner would not have yelled at the dog. And so on.
I've talked with my therapist about these feelings, because they're there a lot. Being a good husband, a good father, a good dog owner, and a good caretaker... These responsibilities are not only my job right now; they are, according to my opinion, the most important responsibilities I've ever had. Failure is not an option. We may dig into this more deeply in a future post, but when I envisioned being the SAHD, I pictured being the perfect SAHD. I would keep a spotless house. The dog would get at least two walks a day. The Baby would be happy, healthy, stimulated, and hitting every milestone. There would be a hot meal ready when The Wife got home every night, or at least tasty leftovers. When I write it out or say it, I hear how ridiculous it is. It's just not realistic. But I'm having a really hard time letting that ideal go. I need to get comfortable with the idea that I don't need to be a perfect SAHD. I need to be a good-enough SAHD, and for now, I am.
Pausing my sure-to-be-award-winning series on traveling with baby because yesterday was Not A Good Day, which is not as bad as a Bad Day, but on that end of the spectrum. The Baby has been...off...this week, which is to say she went from being a really easy, predictable baby to being a little less easy. Nap times are off, nap quality is off, and she's been eating a TON. We assume she's gearing herself up to do something amazing.
Coincidental with that is The Wife is working one of her most demanding rotations. Without a fair amount of effort on our part, it would be very easy for her to see The Baby for 10 minutes in the morning. And that would be it. 10 minutes a day. I know for some that's just reality (and if that's you, I feel for you; there is nothing easy about it), but with some effort, we can make lunch visits work, and with a lot of effort, she can sometimes make it home for bedtime. This week, we tried getting The Baby up a little earlier so she could breastfeed. Normally we are absolute, no-holds-barred, over-my-dead-body strict about never waking a sleeping baby, but with the scheduling demands this week and since The Baby usually sleeps fitfully at best starting at about 5:30am, we decided it was worth a try.
So yesterday we got The Baby up at 6:00. She's usually good for an hour to an hour and a half before her first nap. Yesterday, I pushed it to 7:45. A good nap is an hour and a half to two hours. A bad nap is 30 minutes. First nap was a bad nap. No biggie. I'm proud to say I no longer live and die by the quality of any single nap on a given day. We got up, ate, and as expected, she faded faster than normal and was looking for nap two way early. On a normal day, nap two starts any time between 11:00 and noon. Yesterday I put her down at 10:00 or so, confident that as tired as she was, this would be a good, long nap.
It wasn't.
Nap two was also a bad nap. So now we're way ahead of schedule and while I'm not worried, I'm thinking about it. We run some errands, walk the dog, and I'm hoping that she gets back on track with nap three. Nap three is actually pretty good, but not good enough. She wakes from nap three at 3:00pm, which puts me right in the proverbial pickle. There's no way she'll make it to our desired bedtime of 6:00-6:30 without some kind of a cat nap, but she won't be tired until 4:30 or 5:00, which is a pretty late nap. No matter. Yesterday's motto was, "we do what we gotta do." So I put her down for a fourth nap at 4:30 and got her back up from that at 5:15 or so, hoping that it would keep her happy until 6:30 which would increase the odds that The Wife could make it home in time to say goodnight.
Not happening.
By 5:45 it was clear bedtime was going to be 6:00 or I would be in danger of putting my head through a wall. So mom doesn't get to say goodnight, which sucks and which makes me feel bad, The Baby is losing her shit, and when the baby loses her shit, it makes The Dog lose her shit, and when The Baby and The Dog lose their shit, it means I'm hanging on by a tiny little shred of sanity.
I lost it a little and yelled at the dog. She's a sweet, spunky little rescue dog and she's sensitive, so her tail goes between her legs and she starts trying to crawl under the furniture. I instantly hate myself for this. There are dozens of potential ways of handling a stressful situation like this one, but losing your cool and yelling is probably among the worst.
I start slipping into my shame spiral. A good father would've had his daughter in bed before she lost her shit. A good husband wouldn't have watched TV while The Baby napped; he would've finally gotten around to cleaning the floors. A good pet owner would not have yelled at the dog. And so on.
I've talked with my therapist about these feelings, because they're there a lot. Being a good husband, a good father, a good dog owner, and a good caretaker... These responsibilities are not only my job right now; they are, according to my opinion, the most important responsibilities I've ever had. Failure is not an option. We may dig into this more deeply in a future post, but when I envisioned being the SAHD, I pictured being the perfect SAHD. I would keep a spotless house. The dog would get at least two walks a day. The Baby would be happy, healthy, stimulated, and hitting every milestone. There would be a hot meal ready when The Wife got home every night, or at least tasty leftovers. When I write it out or say it, I hear how ridiculous it is. It's just not realistic. But I'm having a really hard time letting that ideal go. I need to get comfortable with the idea that I don't need to be a perfect SAHD. I need to be a good-enough SAHD, and for now, I am.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Travels with Baby 2: Baby in a Hotel
Baby's first flight was OK. Thanks to the easy availability of food and comfort in the form of breastfeeding and some work on my part shushing and bouncing her, she stayed mostly quiet and even slept a little bit. If you want to be realistic, I think that's about as good as you can hope for. That's certainly as good as you can expect. If it goes more smoothly than that, good for you. And of course, this experience will be vastly different given even a month's difference in age (The Baby was 5 1/2 months old for this trip).
We arrived in San Diego, put The Baby into the carrier, collected our bags, made it to the rental car place, got the car seat installed and made our way to the hotel, all without incident other than at this point The Baby is about four hours behind on sleep. She was more or less delirious, but she was hanging on and being a pretty good sport about it. She would've fallen asleep in the car, but the hotel was really close, so she didn't have much of a chance.
As soon as we got to the hotel, we called down to have them send up a pack and play.
Tip #5: Call the hotel and tell them you'll be staying with an infant. Most will have pack and plays and other infant products that guests can use for free. We'd planned to rent a pack and play until a friend told us to talk to the hotel. Easy peasy.
Here's a tough question then, assuming you're not staying in a suite: where do you put the pack and play? If you put it in the bedroom, you're consigning yourself to many hours of sitting in the dark reading quietly. Or you can do like we did and put it in the bathroom. Problem there is... What do you do when you need to get ready for bed or take a poo yourself? On the balance, I think the bathroom is the smarter move, but you literally need to be more prepared. Before putting baby down for a nap, make sure you've done your business. At night, before you put baby down, plan it out so you have access to your bedtime products in the bedroom so you can pop into and out of the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible so as to disturb baby as much as possible.
There is a third possibility depending on your hotel room: if the closet is big enough, you can put baby in there. This would be the best option, providing a quiet, dark place for baby while still giving you access to the bathroom. The closet in our room wasn't big enough for us to be comfortable with this, and it may sound strange, but remember what makes for a good place to sleep - quiet and dark. Closets are good for that.
The next few days, while not as relaxing as a pre-baby vacation would've been, were really pretty smooth. We did our best to respect The Baby's sleep schedule.
Tip #6: Respect your baby's sleep schedule. I know, I know. There are all these fun distractions right next to your hotel, and it's so easy to pop over for an appetizer or a drink or whatever. You know what you're like when you're tired, and you know what your baby is like when he/she's tired. If you want to push it, that's your business, but prepare yourself to deal with a tired, cranky baby. For us, it has as much to do with "doing what's best for baby" as "just not wanting to deal with a crabby little shit while in public." We pushed it one night. There was a good Mexican restaurant across the street. We thought we could put in an order to go and enjoy a quick beer while we waited for the food. We ended up tag-teaming The Baby; while one of us sat nervously at the bar, drinking alone, the other walked around outside the restaurant doing our best to keep her quiet. Just the kind of night you look forward to on vacation! You can respect the schedule without being a slave to it.
I thought I'd get to thoughts on Being Thought a Bad Parent, but this ran on longer than expected. Next time. Also, stay tuned for Poopmageddon!
We arrived in San Diego, put The Baby into the carrier, collected our bags, made it to the rental car place, got the car seat installed and made our way to the hotel, all without incident other than at this point The Baby is about four hours behind on sleep. She was more or less delirious, but she was hanging on and being a pretty good sport about it. She would've fallen asleep in the car, but the hotel was really close, so she didn't have much of a chance.
As soon as we got to the hotel, we called down to have them send up a pack and play.
Tip #5: Call the hotel and tell them you'll be staying with an infant. Most will have pack and plays and other infant products that guests can use for free. We'd planned to rent a pack and play until a friend told us to talk to the hotel. Easy peasy.
Here's a tough question then, assuming you're not staying in a suite: where do you put the pack and play? If you put it in the bedroom, you're consigning yourself to many hours of sitting in the dark reading quietly. Or you can do like we did and put it in the bathroom. Problem there is... What do you do when you need to get ready for bed or take a poo yourself? On the balance, I think the bathroom is the smarter move, but you literally need to be more prepared. Before putting baby down for a nap, make sure you've done your business. At night, before you put baby down, plan it out so you have access to your bedtime products in the bedroom so you can pop into and out of the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible so as to disturb baby as much as possible.
There is a third possibility depending on your hotel room: if the closet is big enough, you can put baby in there. This would be the best option, providing a quiet, dark place for baby while still giving you access to the bathroom. The closet in our room wasn't big enough for us to be comfortable with this, and it may sound strange, but remember what makes for a good place to sleep - quiet and dark. Closets are good for that.
The next few days, while not as relaxing as a pre-baby vacation would've been, were really pretty smooth. We did our best to respect The Baby's sleep schedule.
Tip #6: Respect your baby's sleep schedule. I know, I know. There are all these fun distractions right next to your hotel, and it's so easy to pop over for an appetizer or a drink or whatever. You know what you're like when you're tired, and you know what your baby is like when he/she's tired. If you want to push it, that's your business, but prepare yourself to deal with a tired, cranky baby. For us, it has as much to do with "doing what's best for baby" as "just not wanting to deal with a crabby little shit while in public." We pushed it one night. There was a good Mexican restaurant across the street. We thought we could put in an order to go and enjoy a quick beer while we waited for the food. We ended up tag-teaming The Baby; while one of us sat nervously at the bar, drinking alone, the other walked around outside the restaurant doing our best to keep her quiet. Just the kind of night you look forward to on vacation! You can respect the schedule without being a slave to it.
I thought I'd get to thoughts on Being Thought a Bad Parent, but this ran on longer than expected. Next time. Also, stay tuned for Poopmageddon!
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Travels with Baby 1: Flying with Baby
As I may have mentioned, The Wife is a physician and one of the perks of her position is a good travel budget to encourage her and her colleagues to attend and present at various conferences. She had a poster selected for presentation at a conference in California, and it just so happens that her grandfather, The Baby's great-grandfather, winters within a couple hours of where the conference was. So we decided to make a vacation out of it. We'd go to the conference and then spend a few days with great-grandpa. GREAT!...
When it comes to travel, I am a minimalist and poor planner. The Wife is the opposite. Historically, we've nicely balanced each other out, but when traveling with a baby, minimalism goes right the hell out the window. YOU BRING EVERYTHING. Nuks? Check. Rags? Check. Book that The Baby cannot understand and has looked at twice since birth? Check. Toy that The Baby has never shown the slightest interest in? Check. You do this because you will do anything, and I mean anything, to keep a child occupied during a three-hour flight. What silly objection could you possibly have to bringing along that stupid stuffed animal that's she's never played with? You don't want to take up the space? You want to *look* like one of those couples who has it so together they manage to travel with a baby but without checking a bag?!
You're a fool. So you bring it all.
We got the packing taken care of with little stress once I let go of my silly objections to taking a bigger suitcase (I mean honestly, what was I thinking?). We did a good job of tempering our expectations. This would not be a vacation by the definition that existed pre-Baby. No lounging by the pool sipping drinks. No luxurious dinners out. In fact, while the conference was on, since we were still going to make breastfeeding happen, it wouldn't be a vacation at all - we'd have to work to make that happen.
Tip #1: Temper your expectations. Your days of relaxing vacations are over.
Once the packing is done, the next thing to worry about is moving all that shit plus The Baby. With curbside check-in, this really turned out to be a non-issue. We dumped the suitcases, unhooked the baby seat, dumped it into its nifty red "GATE CHECK" bag, handed that over, put The Baby into her Ergo, and hit the line for security. This would be the first time of many that my blood pressure spiked and I thought I would get an ulcer, but security was amazingly, remarkably, mind-bendingly anti-climactic. The truth is, I don't give The Baby enough credit. If she's comfortable and full and has things to look at, she'll stay happy and quiet for a long time, and she proved it in that security line. The other amazing thing is, people LOVE to see a dude wearing a baby. This is one of the first examples of sexist unfairness with being a SAHD that I noticed. When my wife wears her, it's no big deal; just another lady with her kid. When I wear The Baby, everybody smiles, including TSA. We got a special card so we didn't need to take off shoes and went through a separate line so we didn't fry The Baby with microwaves or whatever the hell those new scanners use. Easy peasy.
We boarded the plane and did our best to stick to a schedule that would have The Baby nursing during takeoff, but she had other plans. This would be the second time my blood pressure spiked. You can see people taking stock of their seating arrangement as they board the plane, and you can see them see a baby, and you see them slump. They know. They know this flight could be a living nightmare, and YOU know it could be the fault of your precious little poop factory. That's a feeling I dreaded, so much so that I actually brought ear plugs for our neighbors.
Tip #2: Bring ear plugs for your plane neighbors. Nobody will take them, but you offering them communicates the following: "I know my child may make this an uncomfortable experience, and for that, I'm sorry."
Tip #3: If possible, time it so your baby is nursing during takeoff and landing. The sucking will help his/her ears equilibrate, which will reduce crying, which in turn will decrease the odds that the flight attendants will through you off the plane or put you down with the baggage.
As I said, we tried to time it right, but The Baby had other ideas and was finished nursing by the time we took off, which also ended up being not a big deal. If her ears bothered her, she didn't show it. After that, it's just a constant battle to keep the kid occupied and/or asleep. This isn't easy, but it's also not anything you haven't done before. Just like you brought every fucking baby accessory in your house, you also need to bring every soothing tool you've acquired since birth. I hadn't shushed The Baby for months, but I shushed the shit out of her on that flight, and it sort of worked. I hadn't stood and bounced her for even longer, but that worked too.
Tip #4: Do whatever it takes to get your baby to sleep. This may mean standing with the baby back by the bathrooms, which will make you feel like a total creeper, but if it keeps the kid quiet, nobody will care.
In the next installment, we'll talk about fears of being thought a Bad Parent, then we'll tackle how to stay sane in a hotel with an infant. Oh, and at some point, we'll talk about Poopmageddon, or The Terror at 30,000 Feet.
When it comes to travel, I am a minimalist and poor planner. The Wife is the opposite. Historically, we've nicely balanced each other out, but when traveling with a baby, minimalism goes right the hell out the window. YOU BRING EVERYTHING. Nuks? Check. Rags? Check. Book that The Baby cannot understand and has looked at twice since birth? Check. Toy that The Baby has never shown the slightest interest in? Check. You do this because you will do anything, and I mean anything, to keep a child occupied during a three-hour flight. What silly objection could you possibly have to bringing along that stupid stuffed animal that's she's never played with? You don't want to take up the space? You want to *look* like one of those couples who has it so together they manage to travel with a baby but without checking a bag?!
You're a fool. So you bring it all.
We got the packing taken care of with little stress once I let go of my silly objections to taking a bigger suitcase (I mean honestly, what was I thinking?). We did a good job of tempering our expectations. This would not be a vacation by the definition that existed pre-Baby. No lounging by the pool sipping drinks. No luxurious dinners out. In fact, while the conference was on, since we were still going to make breastfeeding happen, it wouldn't be a vacation at all - we'd have to work to make that happen.
Tip #1: Temper your expectations. Your days of relaxing vacations are over.
Once the packing is done, the next thing to worry about is moving all that shit plus The Baby. With curbside check-in, this really turned out to be a non-issue. We dumped the suitcases, unhooked the baby seat, dumped it into its nifty red "GATE CHECK" bag, handed that over, put The Baby into her Ergo, and hit the line for security. This would be the first time of many that my blood pressure spiked and I thought I would get an ulcer, but security was amazingly, remarkably, mind-bendingly anti-climactic. The truth is, I don't give The Baby enough credit. If she's comfortable and full and has things to look at, she'll stay happy and quiet for a long time, and she proved it in that security line. The other amazing thing is, people LOVE to see a dude wearing a baby. This is one of the first examples of sexist unfairness with being a SAHD that I noticed. When my wife wears her, it's no big deal; just another lady with her kid. When I wear The Baby, everybody smiles, including TSA. We got a special card so we didn't need to take off shoes and went through a separate line so we didn't fry The Baby with microwaves or whatever the hell those new scanners use. Easy peasy.
We boarded the plane and did our best to stick to a schedule that would have The Baby nursing during takeoff, but she had other plans. This would be the second time my blood pressure spiked. You can see people taking stock of their seating arrangement as they board the plane, and you can see them see a baby, and you see them slump. They know. They know this flight could be a living nightmare, and YOU know it could be the fault of your precious little poop factory. That's a feeling I dreaded, so much so that I actually brought ear plugs for our neighbors.
Tip #2: Bring ear plugs for your plane neighbors. Nobody will take them, but you offering them communicates the following: "I know my child may make this an uncomfortable experience, and for that, I'm sorry."
Tip #3: If possible, time it so your baby is nursing during takeoff and landing. The sucking will help his/her ears equilibrate, which will reduce crying, which in turn will decrease the odds that the flight attendants will through you off the plane or put you down with the baggage.
As I said, we tried to time it right, but The Baby had other ideas and was finished nursing by the time we took off, which also ended up being not a big deal. If her ears bothered her, she didn't show it. After that, it's just a constant battle to keep the kid occupied and/or asleep. This isn't easy, but it's also not anything you haven't done before. Just like you brought every fucking baby accessory in your house, you also need to bring every soothing tool you've acquired since birth. I hadn't shushed The Baby for months, but I shushed the shit out of her on that flight, and it sort of worked. I hadn't stood and bounced her for even longer, but that worked too.
Tip #4: Do whatever it takes to get your baby to sleep. This may mean standing with the baby back by the bathrooms, which will make you feel like a total creeper, but if it keeps the kid quiet, nobody will care.
In the next installment, we'll talk about fears of being thought a Bad Parent, then we'll tackle how to stay sane in a hotel with an infant. Oh, and at some point, we'll talk about Poopmageddon, or The Terror at 30,000 Feet.
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Peace Like a Hallmark Card and Final-ish Thoughts on Sleep Training
As you may have surmised from the dearth of recent posts, things are really good with The Baby right now. This has allowed me enough slack in my mind space to really start to appreciate this fatherhood thing. I'd heard and read that it can take fathers longer to bond with their children because we don't have the immediate intimacy of breastfeeding. When I laid eyes on my daughter for the first time, I thought buuuuuuuuuuull shit. My feelings of love were immediate and real.
However.
I think I kinda sorta get it now. My wife has been working evenings this week, which means I'm the sole proprietor of bedtimes. The Baby has always been OK with a bottle, but now she's a pro, which means she doesn't fight it, is cleaner, and we just don't struggle the way we used to. I've actually started to enjoy feeding time, and even more so bedtime. Earlier this week, I was feeding her, and she kind of nestles into my armpit when we feed, and with my non-bottle hand, I work on keeping her hands from disrupting the process too much. So she's eating, and she's kind of stroking my hand and holding onto my fingers, and she's looking up at me with those perfect blue eyes (that will be the death of me when she's older and knows how to use them), and dammit if I didn't just about explode. And I thought, "This is it. This is what The Wife experienced from the very first feeding." I know our relationship will be evolving for the rest of my life. I know we will drift together and apart and together again over the years. That's the nature of a human relationship. This was just the first time I recognized and felt us drifting together. That feeling is what I was looking for from parenthood. Feels really good.
The slack in my mind space has also allowed a lot of time to reflect on sleep training. I hope to put more of these down in the future, because there is so much baggage that goes along with sleep training you could write a book on it (which of course many have). Bottom line is, things got markedly better as soon as we started and have continued to improve since then.
But why?
This question is a rabbit hole down which you can go really, really deep. Did we really sleep train The Baby? Or was she just ready to sleep better? Is she really sleeping better, or did we just decide to stop agonizing and obsessing over her sleep? Did we really do it for her own good, or were our motivations more selfish? The truth, like most reality, is it's likely a combination of all of these. She is sleeping better, but I don't think about her sleep much anymore either. Obviously, good sleep is essential, so doing what we thought we needed to do to get her better sleep was for her benefit, but I'd be a big fat liar if I denied how important getting time for myself back has been. For now at least, I feel like I'm back on top of my life.
However.
I think I kinda sorta get it now. My wife has been working evenings this week, which means I'm the sole proprietor of bedtimes. The Baby has always been OK with a bottle, but now she's a pro, which means she doesn't fight it, is cleaner, and we just don't struggle the way we used to. I've actually started to enjoy feeding time, and even more so bedtime. Earlier this week, I was feeding her, and she kind of nestles into my armpit when we feed, and with my non-bottle hand, I work on keeping her hands from disrupting the process too much. So she's eating, and she's kind of stroking my hand and holding onto my fingers, and she's looking up at me with those perfect blue eyes (that will be the death of me when she's older and knows how to use them), and dammit if I didn't just about explode. And I thought, "This is it. This is what The Wife experienced from the very first feeding." I know our relationship will be evolving for the rest of my life. I know we will drift together and apart and together again over the years. That's the nature of a human relationship. This was just the first time I recognized and felt us drifting together. That feeling is what I was looking for from parenthood. Feels really good.
The slack in my mind space has also allowed a lot of time to reflect on sleep training. I hope to put more of these down in the future, because there is so much baggage that goes along with sleep training you could write a book on it (which of course many have). Bottom line is, things got markedly better as soon as we started and have continued to improve since then.
But why?
This question is a rabbit hole down which you can go really, really deep. Did we really sleep train The Baby? Or was she just ready to sleep better? Is she really sleeping better, or did we just decide to stop agonizing and obsessing over her sleep? Did we really do it for her own good, or were our motivations more selfish? The truth, like most reality, is it's likely a combination of all of these. She is sleeping better, but I don't think about her sleep much anymore either. Obviously, good sleep is essential, so doing what we thought we needed to do to get her better sleep was for her benefit, but I'd be a big fat liar if I denied how important getting time for myself back has been. For now at least, I feel like I'm back on top of my life.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Sleep Training End of Week Two
It's been a really, really good week, which accounts for the lack of posts. As I've said before, good times inspire me more to appreciate what's happening in the moment. Bad times inspire me to over analyze, dwell, and in an effort to get the negativity out of my head, to write it down. In general, fewer posts = better times overall. Plus, there's been so much written about the magic of parenthood, it's impossible not to write cliches. I mean, how many different ways are there to describe how small their hands are without sounding like you write for Hallmark?
As far as the sleep, there's progress yet to be made, but I'm calling it a success. She's consistently asleep by 6:30 pm and will usually sleep through until 1:00am. Even when she does wake up, she puts herself back to sleep pretty quickly and pretty quietly. The mid-night feeding is fast. 30 minutes from pillow to pillow for me, even if I have to change a diaper.
Naps are less consistent, but SO MUCH BETTER. She's still on a three-a-day schedule, going down at 8:00am, 11:00am, and 3:00pm, give or take an hour. Each time, she'll sleep for around an hour and a half, sometimes more. The big thing is, unless we totally misread her, we put her in her sleep suit, pop her nuk in, sing Twinkle Twinkle, set her down, walk out the door, and she's asleep within 10 minutes. Not always, but most of the time.
What all this means for me is I'm in a good mental place and I'm having fun with her. She rolled from front to back a few weeks ago and is really close to rolling from back to front now. She's developed the instinct and dexterity to put everything in her mouth, which is oddly enchanting for me. "Oooh, what's this?... IN MY MOUTH." I notice so many little developments. We put her in a bouncer when we're in the kitchen, and it features a plastic bee with crinkly wings, and it's on a cord, so she can pull it out of the bouncer far enough to get it to her mouth. A week ago, she had the dexterity to grab it and pull it to her mouth, but her fists would get in the way. She wanted the bee in her mouth, but she got her fist, which was apparently incredibly frustrating. A few days ago, I watched this same scenario unfold, but instead of getting frustrated, she moved one hand down to the cord below her other hand, and BAM, bee in mouth.
And I just realized that this is what I was most excited about when I daydreamed about being a parent - watching this tin blob develop into a human being. I was a preschool teacher in college and I was eternally fascinated with how kids interacted with the world, especially how much more open and honest they are. I couldn't wait to watch my own child learn and develop and teach me about innocence and openness and honesty. It's happening.
As far as the sleep, there's progress yet to be made, but I'm calling it a success. She's consistently asleep by 6:30 pm and will usually sleep through until 1:00am. Even when she does wake up, she puts herself back to sleep pretty quickly and pretty quietly. The mid-night feeding is fast. 30 minutes from pillow to pillow for me, even if I have to change a diaper.
Naps are less consistent, but SO MUCH BETTER. She's still on a three-a-day schedule, going down at 8:00am, 11:00am, and 3:00pm, give or take an hour. Each time, she'll sleep for around an hour and a half, sometimes more. The big thing is, unless we totally misread her, we put her in her sleep suit, pop her nuk in, sing Twinkle Twinkle, set her down, walk out the door, and she's asleep within 10 minutes. Not always, but most of the time.
What all this means for me is I'm in a good mental place and I'm having fun with her. She rolled from front to back a few weeks ago and is really close to rolling from back to front now. She's developed the instinct and dexterity to put everything in her mouth, which is oddly enchanting for me. "Oooh, what's this?... IN MY MOUTH." I notice so many little developments. We put her in a bouncer when we're in the kitchen, and it features a plastic bee with crinkly wings, and it's on a cord, so she can pull it out of the bouncer far enough to get it to her mouth. A week ago, she had the dexterity to grab it and pull it to her mouth, but her fists would get in the way. She wanted the bee in her mouth, but she got her fist, which was apparently incredibly frustrating. A few days ago, I watched this same scenario unfold, but instead of getting frustrated, she moved one hand down to the cord below her other hand, and BAM, bee in mouth.
And I just realized that this is what I was most excited about when I daydreamed about being a parent - watching this tin blob develop into a human being. I was a preschool teacher in college and I was eternally fascinated with how kids interacted with the world, especially how much more open and honest they are. I couldn't wait to watch my own child learn and develop and teach me about innocence and openness and honesty. It's happening.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Sleep Training End Of Week One
My neighbors are good people and we're on our way to being good friends. I was out back to shovel and saw him over the fence and said hi. As usual, he asked how things were, and I mentioned that sleep training seems to have been successful. He's kind of a smartass, so he asked, "Do you really think it was something you did, or do you think she was just ready to sleep better?" It's a good, big question.
To cut to the chase, I think it's both, but I did confide in him one of my insecurities about sleep training. What if The Baby is not actually sleeping any better? What if all we're doing is choosing to ignore her distress so we can sleep better and have more hands-off time during the day? I suspect if you've gone through CIO sleep training or are considering it, you've dealt with this feeling or something like it.
As part of my therapy (finally had my first appointment after almost three month's wait!), I'm working on identifying the thoughts that bring me down and make me feel angry, identifying how they make me feel, and working to get to the bottom of whether or not those thoughts and feelings are rooted in the real world or not, and ways of redirecting them. It's called Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and what I've just written is about as much as I know about it, so if you want to know more, you know... Google it up.
Anyway, as part of trying to figure out if thoughts and feelings are rooted in reality, you look for objective evidence, i.e. information that another person could look at and that would lead that person to the same conclusion that you did. So when I ponder that question of whether or not I look to our trusty spreadsheet:
So are things really getting better, or did we just do it to make our lives easier? Honestly, it's probably a little bit of both, but way more of the former than the latter, and here's the thing about the latter - it counts. If I'm better rested, my mood is brighter, I'm more patient, and I'm better equipped to give The Baby the care she needs. Maybe I'm justifying here, but I'm learning to think of health holistically. It's not JUST about what's right for The Baby, or for me, or my wife, or the dog. Each has to be considered as part of the overall health of The Family. Our #1 priority is The Baby, but not if it means the dog is neglected and starts to piss and shit all over the dining room (which happened). We'll make sure The Baby is getting the care she needs, but maybe pull back before it sends Papa to the looney bin, eh?
To cut to the chase, I think it's both, but I did confide in him one of my insecurities about sleep training. What if The Baby is not actually sleeping any better? What if all we're doing is choosing to ignore her distress so we can sleep better and have more hands-off time during the day? I suspect if you've gone through CIO sleep training or are considering it, you've dealt with this feeling or something like it.
As part of my therapy (finally had my first appointment after almost three month's wait!), I'm working on identifying the thoughts that bring me down and make me feel angry, identifying how they make me feel, and working to get to the bottom of whether or not those thoughts and feelings are rooted in the real world or not, and ways of redirecting them. It's called Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and what I've just written is about as much as I know about it, so if you want to know more, you know... Google it up.
Anyway, as part of trying to figure out if thoughts and feelings are rooted in reality, you look for objective evidence, i.e. information that another person could look at and that would lead that person to the same conclusion that you did. So when I ponder that question of whether or not I look to our trusty spreadsheet:
Couple things: C = crying, A = awake but content, A/C = intermittent crying. On the 9th, The Baby had her 4-month vaccinations, which accounts for the hug sleep numbers over the next 24 hours.
First thing to note is those HUGE, uninterrupted blocks of time down at the bottom. That's right - all week we've been putting her down at 6:00 give or take, and she's staying down until after midnight. HELL YEAH! We had friends over for dinner the other night. They got to see The Baby for half an hour, then we put her down, and we enjoyed adult time for the rest of the night. Magical.
Second thing to note are the sleep totals at the bottom. Pre-training, we were working really hard to get 14 hours a day. Totals have gone up, and we're not working at it like we were before.
Third thing: Not much crying toward the end of the week. This isn't to say she never squawks, but she is more content between sleep cycles and moves more quickly and smoothly from wake back to sleep. We've had minor regressions that still make me feel like a bad parent and horrible human being, but the spreadsheet helps me see that we're on an upward trajectory.
So are things really getting better, or did we just do it to make our lives easier? Honestly, it's probably a little bit of both, but way more of the former than the latter, and here's the thing about the latter - it counts. If I'm better rested, my mood is brighter, I'm more patient, and I'm better equipped to give The Baby the care she needs. Maybe I'm justifying here, but I'm learning to think of health holistically. It's not JUST about what's right for The Baby, or for me, or my wife, or the dog. Each has to be considered as part of the overall health of The Family. Our #1 priority is The Baby, but not if it means the dog is neglected and starts to piss and shit all over the dining room (which happened). We'll make sure The Baby is getting the care she needs, but maybe pull back before it sends Papa to the looney bin, eh?
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