4 February 2016

Sleep reality

I went to my chiropractor yesterday and the first thing she said to me was -'You look exhausted!' and I laughed outloud and said, 'well yes, you could say that. But......I'm happy!'

I have the best kids in the world.  They make me laugh every day.  I am a bit worried about returning to work on the little sleep I am getting right now.  Titus has picked up some really bad sleep habits and I am mentally bracing myself for the battle of wills that has to be won before it gets better.

Last night - fed Mr T a bowl of baby cereal, saw he was getting sleepy so PJ-ed him and gave him a good feed at 7pm.  He dropped off like a textbook baby. I even laid him in his own bed and he didn't wake. I was amazed. I went down and ate dinner with Simon like a normal person for once!

But then-

7:45 - Titus wide awake. He watched us put Felicity to bed
9pm - Titus still awake and starts fussing - 'you can't be hungry' I say, determined to break the 2 hour cycle.  He cries.
10pm- after crying for almost a solid hour, I give in and feed him. At least it's been 3 hours and not 2 hours between feeds?

And so it progressed -

1am - fussing for a feed
3am - fussing for a feed (and after I settle Titus I have to go through to change Felicity's sheets and settle her. While I'm up anyway, I go downstairs to start the next load of laundry, load the dishwasher and sweep the kitchen floor- ie., evening chores I hadn't been able to do while acting like a human pacifier...). I thought about blogging then too because it was so nice and quiet (I should do more chores in the middle of the night...) but I heard Titus start fussing again upstairs so.....
5am - feeding
7am - feeding.

And this has been the typical night for this boy for the last 2weeks. Honestly- how am I still standing?

I told the health visitor this morning about Felicity's sleep difficulties and how I am anxious about getting Titus to sleep.  I've never had a baby sleep through the night - ever.  I am a great mom during the day but at night it feels like we're in the trenches just doing anything to get by.  I have a lot of insecurity about it because I feel like I've read everything about sleep when we were trying to get Felicity to sleep. I don't need advice from people whose kids just sleep after a certain age.  And it really bugs  me when people complain about tiredness (or worse, blame any rude behaviour on 'oh I'm just so tired') after one night of bad sleep. Get over yourself - you're only complaining because you still *expect* to have good nights of sleep.  After 4 years of broken sleep, you stop having any such expectations that just lead to continued disappointment.  Any night when I get 3 hours of consecutive sleep is a good night for me.

I don't hold out much hope for solutions, but here is what I'm going to try to do -

1) keep a sleep diary for Titus
2) up his solids during the day
3) give him water in a cup
4) try to get him into the habit of falling asleep in his own bed - without feeding him every time

*sigh*

We're going to persevere for the next 6 weeks and stick to it.  I don't expect any sleep the next few nights as we adjust.  Simon has blown up the air-mattress for me in the kiddo's room in case I need to sleep in there for the next few days while Titus adjusts to sleep in the cot bed.  If we can just get him falling asleep in his own bed, I know that will go a long way to fixing my fears.

__________________________________________________________


After I wrote this, my sister sent me this:

http://sarahbessey.com/the-nightwatch/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EmergingMummy+%28Sarah+Bessey%29

And I started crying reading it, because it summarizes soooo well all the mixed feelings you have with repeatedly getting up over and over each night for your kids that you love sooooo much.


And tonight there was a baby prayer night for my friend R__________.  And it was beautiful.  I got goosebumps during some of the prayers and was crying all over myself (managed to hide most of my sniffles during a person who was conveniently coughing at regular intervals - next time there is one of these things I am taking a handkerchief!)  So I felt very encouraged tonight.

And what do you know?  When I got home, both kids were asleep!  Simon is amazing.  He had to settle Titus in our bed (so that Felicity could go to sleep) but he managed to just pat his son back to sleep.

So I have done some tidying and laundry (and even played a little piano and written a bit of this blog post!)

Now I am going to go up and dream-feed Titus and move him to his own bed - wish me luck.

(And I promise, I'll stop blogging about sleep one day.....)

2 February 2016

A friend of mine uses slang regularly.  I assume it's to put other people at ease and also to belie just how intelligent he actually is.  I often sense it's a defense mechanism.  But he kept referring to another guy's girlfriend as 'Tom's bird.'  And in a group setting.  I probably came down too strong when I employed direct address to say, ''_________.  Don't call women birds.  It's disrespectful.''  I knew he was just joking, but it's been going on for a few weeks and it bugged me.  Probably should have let that one go, as his poor choice of words reflects more on him.  But he's not a fool, and I don't think he should choose to talk like one.  (And as an aspiring minister, he could get into a lot of trouble if he used poor word choices like this in the wrong company.)

Argh.  And now *I* feel vulnerable about it and foolish for saying anything.  It's so hard to choose to let your 'true colors' out.

I mean, it'd be okay if your true colors were always pretty pinks and sparkles and unicorns (I guess?)  or if you always knew what color to roll out in front of each person who's *expecting* a certain color.  (And I somehow, instinctively, often seem to just know what 'color' of personality would please most people...I like to have people like me.)

But what if that's just *not* what you're really thinking, or feeling, or who you really *are*?  

What if I'm really having a black-camoflauge day?  Or very loud orange?  Or mismatched paisley and stripes? 

Or worse.  Just plain beige.

But when you've decided to *be yourself* with a certain group of people - that can be scary.

But what would be even worse would be getting to the point where you *can't* let your true feelings/thoughts/personality show....when you got to the point of being 'defended against vulnerablity' and you couldn't drop your walls, even if you wanted to.  

When you actually become a chamelion with no colors of your own, just the reflection of what someone else wants to see.

Grace and wisdom to decide what to say at the right time for the right reasons.

James 3:2-12..................for myself.

2 We all stumble in many ways. Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check.

3 When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. 4 Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. 5 Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. 6 The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

7 All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and sea creatures are being tamed and have been tamed by mankind, 8 but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

9 With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. 10 Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. 11 Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? 12 My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

When I was in highschool, I found that first verse enticing - 'Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect....'  and also the one where:

'Even a fool is thought wise if he holds his tongue.'

And then I cry out with Anne Shirley - but if you only knew the things I want to say and don't - maybe you'd give me some credit!

Keep on rolling.  In the words of Michael Card:

'The beginning will make all things new.  New life belongs to him.  He holds each new moment saying, my child begin again.  You're free to start again.'

Thanks Lord.

1 February 2016

Going away and coming home again


Last Wednesday we left the city behind us and went to Melford Village for a few days with our friends, the Ks.  I never like to publish when we are going away until we are back at home (just in case someone decides it'd be a good idea to break in.)  Sophie and Felicity had a marvelous time together in the little cottage and it was a lovely setting, despite the wild weather.

Highlights, aside from just having some downtime to spend with friends/family -

The scenery through the Trossochs and along the West Coast of Scotland.  The trees don't have their leaves this time of year which made it easier to see the outlines of the rivers and lochs and hills.  There's been some flooding so several of the rivers and the sea lochs were especially dramatic.  Several times we turned a sharp corner (think little 2-lane road with the 18-wheelers barreling past in the other direction) and I literally gasped at the views of a torrential river or the waves of a sea-loch high up over their banks - fortunately never over the actual road in our case, but you felt like you might as well just be driving *on* the water, it was so close.  On the way home there'd been a dusting of snow over everything as well, so it was dazzling on the fields and road as well - not just on the snow-covered mountain peaks driving up out of the land and water everywhere up there.  I think Simon and I both felt a bit claustraphobic coming back to the city on Saturday.  I feel I could certainly get used to the lonely space the countryside offers.

The ferries to Mull, Iona and other West Coast Islands (think: Staffa and Fingal's Cave) leave from Oban.  We drove through this town several times and spent an afternoon at the local leisure centre giving the girls a good time in the soft play.  The weather was 'authentic' scottish winter - windy and wet!  but the town is still beautiful - set on a hillside running down to a promenade by the harbor.  There are a lot of pretty Victorian semi-detached houses set up and down the hill.  I wouldn't mind going back there in the summer.

On Friday we had hoped to take the girls to the Scottish Sealife Sanctuary just north of Oban, but they were closed for bad weather.  (Shame as the website looks great - lots of things to do.)  So because we were already that far north (and weren't sure what the bridges and snow would do on Saturday) we went ahead and drove up to Ballachulish where Starfish harps has their workshop.  How cool!  Lucky for me, though it was nearly lunchtime, the kids both fell fast asleep in the car and stayed asleep for a while while I went in and played with the harps!  The secretary was so nice.  I explained that I was beginner and she said to take my time and just have a play around - and then she closed the door so I wouldn't feel self-conscious!  I have been drooling over their website for over 6 months and knew the varieties - and thought I loved the concert-strung Lochaber the best.  So it was really really interesting to be there and hear and feel the harps in person.  The Glenelle model I played on was my absolute favorite - I kept coming back to it.  It made a really, there's no other word for it, a really JOYFUL sound.  About 20 minutes later the kiddos woke up and Simon brought them in and was able to listen to the harps as well.  He was taking a video of me playing on the harps, which ended with Felicity saying, 'I need to go potty.'  LOL  but what a treat!  I'm planning to go to the International Harp Festival here in Edinburgh in April.  They'll bring their harps down then too.  They said they have a year-long waiting list for their harps at the moment - I'm going to start saving now....maybe I can get my name down in a year or two.

We went to the Glencoe Visitor Centre to have lunch (after passing about 3 cafes along the road that were very closed!)  It was only about 3 miles up the road from the Ballachulish bridge,

The other exciting thing happened Saturday on the road back to Edinburgh.  We stopped at the antiques shop and cafe outside of Doune and had lunch and a wander around the store.  Felicity was beside herself with the excitement of seeing all the wee statues of animals *everywhere.*  It was constantly...'Mommy!!!  Come! come, come, come HEre! and see what I found!'  Dogs, dolphins, teddies, dollies, giarrafes, elephants, 'a whole bunny rabbit party!', hedgehogs, mice,....(who buys all these dinky figurines anyway??)  but we got caught in the book section with rows and rows of nice hardback, dustjacket-lined treasures.  And boy, did I find a keeper!  Practically perfect, clean, with dustjacket, FIRST EDITION copy of The Discarded Image!!  I grabbed it up when I saw the book ~(because Ive been wanting to read it for a while) and couldn't belive it when I opened the copy.  There was also a first edition copy of Lewis' letters to Arthur Greeves (out of print) and a first edition of Dorothy Sayers play The Man Born To Be King.

Reader, I bought them.

I was trying to find current prices of 'new' copies of The Discarded Image on amazon - one was listed at $1,098.00 or something! (don't even know if that was a first editions or not)  Simon said, 'well....be careful not to spill coffee on it' (lol how well does he know me?  I think books *like* to be baptised....like toys like to be played with...)  I joked, well, I only need to find 6 more first editions in antique stores before I can buy my harp........

Titus is being very clingy this morning. Must stop here for now.

17 January 2016

Going to the National Gallery of Scotland with my 3 year old daughter

(written Tuesday at the hipster coffee shop...)

Even the metal ramp leading up to the doors is embossed and beautiful.  Pull open the heavy doors and enjoy the warm greeting of the person wearing tartan trousers, who usually scrambles to help us when they see our bumbling, chaotic entrance, complete with buggy and baby and bags!  ''Look!  There are our turtles!'' all four of the them carved in stone, holding up the corners of the donation box planted in the foyer.  My child stands in the most inconvenient places, unawares, watching in unself-conscious wonder while other visitors try to skirt around her into the inner doors.  I feel them take a mental step back from us - but do not fear us, dear tourists and pensioners!  We only come to watch and learn as you do, albeit in small baby steps each time - which is why we must visit more often - to sip up quickly the sights before our attention wanders.

We have our favorite friends - the stone turtles, the wooden lions (with their chair-weight bearing claws), the donkey next to the naked baby, the 'reindeer' crying at his death blow, the 'dead man'  (Patrocles) lying like a slab of marble on the wall.  We spot all the dogs and all the horses, immortalized in motionless liveliness within their lavish frames.  My prancing, golden, high-pitched companion, though she only reaches my waist, sometimes sees the clearest.  ''Why does that lady have no clothes on?''  ''I think that's a man, my love.''  ''Look at that horse!  A big brown horse!'' (I think it is unfortunate, or perhaps artistic justice?  This certain artistocrat should forever be standing next to the rich warm luster of his horses' rear end.  The horses' ass outshines the appearance of his master.)

And we love to visit the upstairs gallery with the blue couches and the 'snowflakes' on the floor.  ''I want to stay here forever because they have snowflakes on the floor...''  Before I visited with her eyes, I had never noticed the color of the beige patterned carpet or the fact that the walls and sofas were such a lovely blue.  But then, there are 'our banerninas' (of Degas) and the painting of the horse we like and the sculpture of the tiger eating the antelope.  And this time we noticed, 'Oh, the most beautiful picture!  Mommy, come!  Come!' with pinks and oranges and blues and yellows ('and no other colors, mommy') splashed recklessly across the canvas - a bridge between this dignified tour of the past and the irreverent spillings of new things rightly relegated to the Modern Art Museum.

I study the portrait of the young boy memorizing his book, wondering how the artist captured the sheen of almost blonde brown hair that remind me of my own masterpiece's gleaming?  (But hers are brighter.)  I would love to preserve that shining.  Lifting the veil between the ordinary and the eternal.

And when we leave into the misty, cold, rain-slicked city, the whole world is a painting wherever we look.  
 

12 January 2015

Ah...Oh, so this is what the office looks like after the kids are asleep......hmmmm......Almost forgotten where the 'new post' button was...

So Titus got used to sleeping in my arms when he was sick a couple of weeks ago.  I don't regret babying him like that at all (because, face it, he's a *baby* and how long does that last?) but I decided I really needed to get him sleeping solo in his own bed again.

And last night was *hard.*  I'm using a combination of methods that I've gradually accumilated through Felicity's no-sleep toddlerhood....this one (don't remember where it's from) is where you pick up the baby when they're fussy, but then put them back in their crib as soon as they're settled - no matter how long it takes.  Somehow, it helps when you count.  I find that after 5 times it's remarkably difficult when they start to cry again, but it's one of those things that if you start it, you really need to follow through, or it makes the entire process *even harder* the next time.  Do not surrender.  This is a war you must win, or resign yourself to sleeplessness forever (HA! but no pressure, right?!)

So last night, it took 14 times to lay him down before he fell asleep in his cot.  He woke up an hour later and it took another 10 times to lay him down again.  He then slept until 2am - *angels sing* and I fed him (before Felicity woke up from wetting the bed and I had to get up and change her bedding and PJs until abotu 3am....)  but then Titus woke up at 3:15am and I'm like, 'no Buddy....you ate really good only an hour ago - this is not an all-night drive through'

it takes 52 times to put him back in bed.  (oh, and I was so done by about time 23.....)  Finally, he gives it up about 5am and we're all able to go back to sleep.

And Felicity comes in at 6am wanting cuddles (she is succintly banished to her room until 7am when her clock changes.)  8am and I drag my unwilling carcass out of bed.  (Thank you Lord I didn't have to get up before 8am!)

I'm telling myself it's an initial investment.  It hurts now, but if I can get him to sleep in his bed again, it will pay dividends in the long run!  And I honestly think the only way I was able to hold the line last night was because I got 3-something hours of solo sleep before all hell broke loose.

Tonight, it took 3 lay-downs before he settled.  We will see how the rest of the night goes.

In the meantime, I'm going to go find the inside of my eyeballs for a while......




(We actually had a very good day today, much to my surprise.  Sometime I will start blogging about my daytime activities when the nights become less exciting.  Suffice to say, since Felicity was at nursery in the morning, I was able to go and buy her some larger t-shirts (I bought size 6s and 7s - 7 is still too big, thank goodness!) at the grocery store and sit and write silly poetry in a crowded coffee shop with my gorgeous baby for a while.  {And not even a 'yummy-mummy-type' coffee shop - I was the only one with a pram there!  Way to be hipster-wannabe me!  Unfortunately, don't think it improved the poetry.....}  Then this afternoon Felicity and I took a walk around some of the charity shops in town while waiting to pick up her medicine at the pharmacy.....we bought a new puzzle (with a map and flags of the world), a small plastic crocodile (he's going to be a hit with the other zoo animals....I thought he would be destined to be the antagonist but then Felicity informed me that 'he's a nice crocodile.  He only eats vegetables') and 6 bratz dollies (50p each!) to paint new sweet faces on.  Felicity and I had a great time then when we got home refurbishing our finds - I painted new faces on 2 of the dollies and she re-painted her crocodile (I think her painting looks better than the paint it came with actually...)  The kitchen table still bears the evidence in acrylic paint....but no matter, we had a brilliant time!  I was gratified that she took both new dollies with her in the bathtub (neccesary after the amount of paint distributed on hands, arms, faces....and also a good excuse to wash out the dollie's hair before they are assimilated into the household) and then dressed them in PJs before tucking them in bed with her.  I had put her hair up into a tinkerbell bun to keep it dry in the bath and was breathless at how grown up and *long* she looked in her PJs dressing her dollies.  I keep trying to call her a toddler, because technically she is still only 3, but she is really not!  Where did this big girl come from?  We have been reading a funny book from the library called 'Pizza Kittens' before bed the last 3 nights - which has an explosion of peas in the middle that makes us all laugh.  Then, Felicity wanted to hold and cuddle and kiss Titus while we tucked her into bed and said prayers.  Beautiful beautiful kids.  Oh yeah, and we watched the Hobbit ('the one with the horses and the TROLL!') and ate pancakes for dessert after dinner.)

Life is Good.  Just need more sleep.

11 January 2016

I love my kids.

Titus and I were jamming out to the Monkees and 'Hit the Road Jack' while I cleaned the kitchen and fed him baby rice this morning.  He was giggling and bouncing and so cute!

Felicity, Simon and I have been playing 'Pop to the Shops' a lot this past weekend.  She has also been asking me to 'PLay Ponies with me, Mommy!' incessantly!

Good days.  Not much time for myself, hence lack of blog posts, but great times.

1 Jan 2016

The fireworks display last night was something else.  I fell asleep long before midnight, but the noise easily woke me up.  I debated whether to get up or just pull the duvet back over my head, but in the end, I'm glad I struggled bleary-eyed to the window and caught the finale.  They had fireworks shooting off from the castle (?) and carlton hill at the same time - fantastic!  Then when the Edinburgh town fireworks were over, I heard bangs from the opposite windows and looked out towards the sea to see the fireworks being shot off from Portobello (?) and Musselburgh - and even some from out North Berwick way, it seemed.

Then I settled Mr. T as quickly as I could so I could go back to sleep!  For a long time after I went to bed, the rock-rhythm-bass reverberating across the city, blasted by enormous loudspeakers in town no doubt, kept me on the edge of consciousness thinking...... I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I, IV-IV-IV-IV-IV-IV-IV-IV-IV, V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V, I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I.........UGH.  (Musician problems.....)  

Happy New Years everyone.