Saturday, July 31, 2004
Milestones
This week I seem to have lost my windows of opportunity for writing, and I'm frustrated. First, Max has given up his nap, which was truly terrible for me until I decided that I would be less irritated if I assumed he would not take a nap and let myself be thrilled if I was wrong on a particular day. Second, I'm putting Reed to bed in the room that doubles as my office. I'd hoped that I'd be able to write after Boo had fallen asleep, but the light from my computer tends to awaken him, and when he can see me from his crib, he doesn't settle himself back to sleep. I miss writing. I miss taking time to reflect on my life with my kids and to gain some perspective on what can otherwise seem too much like chaos. I can solve this problem, and I will, but I haven't yet.
Before each of the boys was born, I bought him a baby book and a "first year" calendar and a keepsake box for things like his first pair of shoes and the front page of the newspaper on the day he was born. I don't know whether all of this chronicling is more for me or for them. I do know that I want desperately to remember their childhoods in vivid detail, and I want them to always know how much I loved and cherished them. Perhaps they'll find the minutia boring or just a bit silly, but I hope not.
One of the things that baby books and calendars are designed to do, of course, is to record the dates on which a child achieves certain milestones like sitting up and crawling and taking a step. What's peculiar about this, and what I didn't realize until Max was a few months old, is that most of these "events" represent a continuum of development. Did Max feed himself for the first time on the day he flailed the spoon in such a way that the sweet potatoes that hadn't been flung onto the floor or the table or me managed, somewhat inadvertently, to find their way into his mouth? The line of demarkation isn't always so clear, nor is the path of progress straight and unbroken.
So I shouldn't have been surprised that Boo's progress at sleeping by himself has been a bit ragged. You'll recall that Boo seemed to take to his crib quite readily last week. I was lulled into thinking that he might learn to sleep on his own quickly and without pain, which is about as ridiculous as imagining that the laws of physics won't apply next Tuesday. Two night ago, we experienced the first low point in our sleep saga. Boo wouldn't stop screaming unless I had one hand on his body. When I could no longer tolerate stooping to comfort him or listening to his terrible cries, I let him sleep beside me on the futon in his room. Fortunately, my sacrifice on Thursday was rewarded yesterday when Boo slept through the night for the first time. Eight consecutive hours of sleep--for him at least. I awoke periodically and listened, wondering whether he'd be up soon with demands for soothing or snacking. Nevertheless, it's a great milestone, over nine months in the making. My fingers are crossed for another good night, but I'm no longer delusional.
I suspect that Boo's sleeping habits are affected by his other spurt this week. He transitioned from scooting to a full-blown crawl, which enables him to access everything from the dog bowl to electrical cords to tiny bits of playdough under Max's art table. Despite the new hazards, I have to admire Boo's technique, which dad likened to a swimmer doing the breaststroke. Picture all four limbs operating symmetrically and in unison--an efficient, elegant and very effective motion. Having flipped on the "crawl" switch, Boo is now thoroughly mobile, following me from room to room like an enthusiastic puppy or striking out on his own to pursue some appealing object, like one of the dogs. I'm left to imagine the meaning of his frequent glances back in my direction, even as he heads down the hall and around the corner: "Are you coming? Are you going to stop me? Are you still there?" Or maybe just, "Yep, I must be moving because she seems to be getting smaller and smaller...."
Before each of the boys was born, I bought him a baby book and a "first year" calendar and a keepsake box for things like his first pair of shoes and the front page of the newspaper on the day he was born. I don't know whether all of this chronicling is more for me or for them. I do know that I want desperately to remember their childhoods in vivid detail, and I want them to always know how much I loved and cherished them. Perhaps they'll find the minutia boring or just a bit silly, but I hope not.
One of the things that baby books and calendars are designed to do, of course, is to record the dates on which a child achieves certain milestones like sitting up and crawling and taking a step. What's peculiar about this, and what I didn't realize until Max was a few months old, is that most of these "events" represent a continuum of development. Did Max feed himself for the first time on the day he flailed the spoon in such a way that the sweet potatoes that hadn't been flung onto the floor or the table or me managed, somewhat inadvertently, to find their way into his mouth? The line of demarkation isn't always so clear, nor is the path of progress straight and unbroken.
So I shouldn't have been surprised that Boo's progress at sleeping by himself has been a bit ragged. You'll recall that Boo seemed to take to his crib quite readily last week. I was lulled into thinking that he might learn to sleep on his own quickly and without pain, which is about as ridiculous as imagining that the laws of physics won't apply next Tuesday. Two night ago, we experienced the first low point in our sleep saga. Boo wouldn't stop screaming unless I had one hand on his body. When I could no longer tolerate stooping to comfort him or listening to his terrible cries, I let him sleep beside me on the futon in his room. Fortunately, my sacrifice on Thursday was rewarded yesterday when Boo slept through the night for the first time. Eight consecutive hours of sleep--for him at least. I awoke periodically and listened, wondering whether he'd be up soon with demands for soothing or snacking. Nevertheless, it's a great milestone, over nine months in the making. My fingers are crossed for another good night, but I'm no longer delusional.
I suspect that Boo's sleeping habits are affected by his other spurt this week. He transitioned from scooting to a full-blown crawl, which enables him to access everything from the dog bowl to electrical cords to tiny bits of playdough under Max's art table. Despite the new hazards, I have to admire Boo's technique, which dad likened to a swimmer doing the breaststroke. Picture all four limbs operating symmetrically and in unison--an efficient, elegant and very effective motion. Having flipped on the "crawl" switch, Boo is now thoroughly mobile, following me from room to room like an enthusiastic puppy or striking out on his own to pursue some appealing object, like one of the dogs. I'm left to imagine the meaning of his frequent glances back in my direction, even as he heads down the hall and around the corner: "Are you coming? Are you going to stop me? Are you still there?" Or maybe just, "Yep, I must be moving because she seems to be getting smaller and smaller...."
2 Comments:
OK, per your last paragraph, Paul and I consider ourselves to have been warned. There will be some full-scale childproofing going on here in the next week and a half!
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