Well, they say pay back is a bitch... um yeah, that's an understatement.
Supposedly, I was a tad difficult as a child when it came to bedtime. My catch phrase became "...
I just want a glug of milk... a glug of milk!!!!". One christmas, I kept my parents up until 3 am and almost cause 'Santa' to fall asleep and forget to put my presents under the tree. My parents always told me that they hoped my child would give me a taste of what their life was like... well, they got their wish.
I may have noted somewhere in the past that Gord was an angel when it came to bedtime. He would either fall asleep on the breast during his last feed, or fall asleep when his head hit the crib with the slightest assistance from the musical mobile, his soother, or our hand on his cheek... well, somewhere along the line, this 'angel' has fallen from heaven and turned into the 'Damien' of sleepy time.
It started changing so gradually, I couldn't even tell you when it started. What I can tell you, is tonight, was absolute Hell!
I don't have much to compare to, so I apologize if my anecdotal recalling of tonight's dramatic events are a walk in the park for some... If so, I really really really feel sorry for you!
Anyhow, he took a lengthy nap and woke at 5ish, and the following 2 hours were full of his usual routine - play, diaper changes, feed, play (slow downtime play, because he was a wee bit hyper), bath, 'relax the baby' waltzing, finishing up with his pre-bed feed. This last feed is usually the sleeping pill for Gord. He typically falls asleep on the breast, and his putting down is usually a simple transfer with him asleep and draped across my hands. Not so tonight. (Or the last few nights for that matter).
His naps, and attempts to put him down for a nap the last few days have been similar to this, but a very mild preview of the coming disaster.
Following his feed and burps, we laid him in his crib. He would have nothing to do with that. He started wailing.
Oh, this is a good time to mention that he has discovered a new sound. The sound of him WAILING. Not the typical wail, but the high pitch squeal that babies at some point realize they can accomplish. This new discovery was yesterday, and since then, he has not stopped doing it. Most of the time it is quite cute, and in a playful manner. However, when used as a tool to express his absolute disgust with the situation... not so cute.
Us putting him down to sleep was the exact situation he was disgusted with tonight. He cried, he wailed, he flailed and he tried, very hard, to stay awake... it was either that, or drive us completely insane, and well, he succeeded at both.
We tried everything: Resting our hands on his face while the other wrapped their hands around his torso and rocked him gently, covering his body with our hands and arms like his baby seat belt and holding him tightly, we even tried the 'let him cry himself to sleep' tactic, but yeah, we really don't have the stomach for that one, and it only lasted about 45 seconds. Nothing worked.
So, back to the breast.
That worked... for about 30 seconds. He fell asleep while nursing, and even lasted the transfer to the crib, but by the time we got to the living room, it was a 4 alarm fire upstairs. It was my 'turn' so I went up to try and calm him down. No dice. He spit up a bit so I picked him up to see if he had any burps... no burps, just a whole lot of screaming. Kim came to see who was killing who, and requested the opportunity to calm him down. I needed a break, so I came downstairs, and I could hear the silence... but a few minutes later that was interrupted and I went back upstairs to try and provide kim some relief. Somewhere in there, we managed to get him into the crib without crying - no music, no soother, just him and the far off possibility that he could fall asleep.
We again, managed to make it downstairs, sit on the couch and speak the unspoken look that soldiers share when walking away from battle, not knowing when the next bomb is going to drop. Then it happened. I heard the pin being pulled... that slow winding up whine that any moment is going to erupt in to full blown carnage. I run upstairs, this time taking not bullshit (in a nice daddy son kind of way). I simply put my head right in the crib, nose to nose, exhaled the warm breath while deeply mumbling "it's ok" and resting my hand on his chest. It was a long shot, but I had no other ideas. For some reason, the timing was right for this and it worked. He closed his eyes, cocked his head and let his arms fall to his side.
Victory was ours.
We may have won this battle, but the war is only in it's fourth month with no end in sight.
The whole ordeal lasted about 45-50 minutes.
Not fun.
Not, fun.
And, I'm outta beer.
And yeah, I didn't mention this... but kim is feeling like a big bag of poo. Either really bad allergies, or the quick onset of a cold. We're hoping for the allergies.
Till next time.
Cheers.
