This past weekend the fam packed up and headed south for a few days to G's Nana and Poppa's house.
It's a mini-miracle to get the three of us packed up with all the needed (and non-needed) essentials; how people with more than one child ever leave their house is a mystery to me. As I was carefully planning and folding G's clothes, I was simultaneously thinking of how many bottles we should pack. The internal debate raged for 1/2 hour, but I finally settled on 1-3 bottles. I went downstairs to confer with my spouse.
"How many bottles should we take for this weekend?" I question. Without pausing he states, "4," which clearly told me he wasn't painstakingly thinking through the situation as I had hoped - we were only leaving for 2 days, and I am still nursing the wee one 90 percent of the time.
I give him a look as if he just suggested trading our first born son for the latest and greatest piece of lawn equipment. He picks up on my disapproval and tries again, "2?" Pause. "Hell, I dunno, 8?"
I call him out, "You didn't even think about the question. You're just trying to guess the right answer."
He starts to laugh because he knows he's caught. After a moment of I-can't-believe-he's-laughing-doesn't-he-realize-feeding-our-son-is-important!, I join in because 1) he's eating a Klondike bar and I'm afraid it's going to come out his nose he's laughing so hard, 2) of course he cares about our son eating - my thinking is ridiculous, and 3) it hits me that our exchange could be a vignette straight from Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages or John Gray's Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.
Me? I want to discuss and consider all possible angles of the situation, finally coming to a decision that we both work toward.
Him? He wants to solve my dilemma...immediately.
And the truth - I did want to confer as a team, but, in my mind, there was a "right" answer.
"Well," I tell him, "the good news is we're trying to work together. You were sincere in wanting to answer correctly, and I sincerely wanted you to get the correct answer."
For the first time in 7 seven years, we got it. For that day, the communication improved drastically. We started the conversation again.
"Should we take 1, 2, or 3 bottles?" I ask.
"2," he responds confidently.
I practice my new skill again giving only options that are acceptable in my mind. "Should we pack the bottle in his diaper bag or suitcase?"
"Diaper bag" he states decisively, and I nod in agreement.
Will we make the same communication mistakes again? Probably, but we sit on the couch content for a minute enjoying the moment of clarity before resuming our packing.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Sleep
It's lacking in our house these days...again.
Things were going well for a while. For most of the month of May G-man was sleeping 8 hours a night - he would scream for an hour before going to bed, but the uninterrupted night sleep was well worth the screaming. I had mentally awarded us a parental gold star in the sleep arena.
Then I went back to work for two weeks, and selfishly I HAD to get sleep - this is hard with a baby screaming like a banshee in the background. I tried to pretend it was the sound of the ocean crashing against the beach - but this technique was unsuccessful. And well, we broke down. We started bad habits like diverting from our bedtime routine...and the ultimate habit that put the nail in our sleep coffin...a pacifier.
It seemed like a GREAT idea at first - it works magic with many, many children, right? With it G could fall asleep by himself without screaming and the first two nights with this new habit he slept for 8 hours again. Halleluiah! I still remember waking up the next morning. It was glorious! A smiley, well-rested baby and mommy make a great combination, and I put the mental gold star back on the board.
Then he started waking up once an evening, needing me to pop the paci back in his mouth. It seemed innocent enough. One time...not a big deal.
Two weeks later, however, I am getting up four times a night to find the missing paci. My child goes back to sleep in an instant, however, I am left wide awake.
I HATE to hear my child scream - who doesn't? - but as the parent I need to take control. There will be no paci tonight. And most likely, no sleep, but I am hoping that it will pay off in the long run - for all three of us.
Things were going well for a while. For most of the month of May G-man was sleeping 8 hours a night - he would scream for an hour before going to bed, but the uninterrupted night sleep was well worth the screaming. I had mentally awarded us a parental gold star in the sleep arena.
Then I went back to work for two weeks, and selfishly I HAD to get sleep - this is hard with a baby screaming like a banshee in the background. I tried to pretend it was the sound of the ocean crashing against the beach - but this technique was unsuccessful. And well, we broke down. We started bad habits like diverting from our bedtime routine...and the ultimate habit that put the nail in our sleep coffin...a pacifier.
It seemed like a GREAT idea at first - it works magic with many, many children, right? With it G could fall asleep by himself without screaming and the first two nights with this new habit he slept for 8 hours again. Halleluiah! I still remember waking up the next morning. It was glorious! A smiley, well-rested baby and mommy make a great combination, and I put the mental gold star back on the board.
Then he started waking up once an evening, needing me to pop the paci back in his mouth. It seemed innocent enough. One time...not a big deal.
Two weeks later, however, I am getting up four times a night to find the missing paci. My child goes back to sleep in an instant, however, I am left wide awake.
I HATE to hear my child scream - who doesn't? - but as the parent I need to take control. There will be no paci tonight. And most likely, no sleep, but I am hoping that it will pay off in the long run - for all three of us.
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