After all the kicking, screaming, banging pots&pans (all my doing), the offspring falls asleep while on his 5th timeout of the day.
There has to be a non-lunatic side to parenting. I’ve yet to discover it though 😦
Most moms get this advice from others, “when your baby sleeps, you should sleep too!” . Now that’s sound advice but one that moms seldom follow. Or can afford to follow actually. Usually there’s so much to be done for an infant and toddler that you can’t simply go to sleep even when you are DEAD on your feet.
But when you have a slightly older child you become a bit greedy about your time away from being an active or real-time mom as I call the ilk, and want to use your time to DO SOMETHING! When actually you really should be dragging your sleepy self to bed.
So here I am, yawning massive yawns that expose my maws and my head’s dropping a bit while I think of the next pithy sentence but I am still determined to DO something so this time doesn’t go waste.
As my son’s prone to say these days, “that’s stoopit Ayu”.
Good night all, I will finally take the advice and ‘sleep when the “baby” is sleeping’.
It took us a little over 2 years to understand that our HYPERACTIVE child might have some help with his hyperactivity. No, it’s not ADHD although I pored over the DSM and ICD in order to find something that would help me understand his relentlessness and lack of sleep.
The coughs, colds and persistent sleep disruptions took a toll on us as well. Added to that there was the on&off medication for the symptoms that we weren’t too happy about but it seemed to do the trick for the time being.
I have realized it’s a matter of immense luck to find the right doctor. And also at the right time. The doctor we finally ended up going to was one who specialized in Ear, Nose&Throat cases and immediately diagnosed MLM as having Reactive Airways Disease.
With more structured medicine doses and entirely different types of medicines we were able to achieve longer durations of sleep for MLM ( and consequently us) and wee dip in his hyperactivity.
In time though it was discovered that he had allergies which used to cause the cough and colds and once we identified them we were able to curb them to a large extent as well.
The piece de resistance was a minor but life-changing surgery for him which took care of his tonsils and adenoids (two things which used to give him a bad cough and make him snore like a trucker!)
Why was the surgery needed at all? Well it was like this- the adenoids were causing fluid build up in his ears leading to a diminished sense of hearing. Thankfully it was a reversible condition.
So we are nearly one year down the day of surgery and doing well thank goodness! His hearing is great! He can hear potato chips being bitten into or chocolate wrappers being opened. And his speech has improved to the extent where he can say Brontosaurus and Stegosaurus and string together sentences that are correct and make sense overall, grammatically and contextually.
For the parents out there who seem to be a bit paranoid about your child, it’s just fine. Paranoia helps at times, if nothing else then to just let you know that you were worried and that’s basically your job. To worry and think of the booboos and take them away for good.
But the flip side? Now that the speech is clear, coherent and LOUDER than before, I am hit with a barrage of words that rattle around my head all day long and sometimes in the night as well.
But that’s a small (and LOUD) price to pay to hear a small imp prattle along happily in his own way.
While growing up I think the one thing most people on this planet had in common was their Sunday mornings. Even if it came at different times across the world, I firmly believe every damn person with a whit of grey matter WANTED to sleep on Sundays!
As kids we slept pretty much as long as we liked on Sundays and and as adults the sleeping in on Sundays took on a religious zeal almost! It was as if the Galactic Amoeba (am kind of a fence sitting on the existence of the Almighty so I guess HE/SHE could be like a giant amoeba in the cosmos too right?) created you with the inability to get up before 8 am on Sundays.
Enter matrimony and you find a husband who likes to sleep and let sleep. Till date I can’t recall Red (he shall be called Red hereafter) having woken me up because he was hungry or he thought it was too late in the day. He likes to sleep till it leaves him on it’s own and he wishes others around him do the same.
But we people are an odd bunch. Just when things are going well we think to ourselves, “wouldn’t it be fun to have my body stretched beyond normal capacity and give birth in excruciating pain, to a child who will change the course of life forever! Let alone my Sundays.”
And the baby cometh. The baby groweth. From a wailing infant to a chubby toddler who puts his fingers up your nose as a wake-up call. Then when he grows to a preschooler he comes and bounces on your undefended form on the bed and demands for toys and Play Doh and whatnots. And just when you’re growing the slightly bit immune to his tactics and have developed an armor to deflect it, he says those words, in that tone that no mother can ignore. Beyond a point anyway…”am hungryyy”.
You haul yourself out of bed, try to be a good trooper and give the poor starving child with his Oliver Twist eyes something to chow down on. And think it’s just a Sunday…no biggie…I’ll sleep when he becomes a teenager and is surly and non-communicative. But till then your Sundays are toast! And so is your sleep.
So what’re you gonna do? You are a good mother after all! You wake up the spouse and ruin his Sunday morning because NO good deed goes unpunished!