Is This A Kissing Book?
2007-01-23, 15:40

Busyness at work, fighting off a recurring cold, winter blahs, a head full of overbearing Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance thoughts, and poor sleep have been hampering my ability, my interest, in writing lately. I tell myself it's temporary, and probably I'm right. I'm writing now, after all, aren't I? So if you will forgive my absence, I'll forgive yours, and I'm making an effort in my overstuffed brain to get myself back into this writing thing, for my own sake.

I'll approach the baby aspect of writing suppression first, mainly because it's the indirect cause of some of the other affronting maladies (mad baby ⇒ lack of sleep ⇒ recurring cold). Last couple of weeks, Laurana's been settling into her role as Two-Year-Old quite nicely. Ever since the holidays, she's been having trouble of and on (more on than off) getting herself into sleep more, with tantrums and screaming fits. After doing a little reading, I've come to accept that this is pretty normal, as this is the age when children really start pushing at their boundaries. And as she's fierce and stubborn and extremely curious and has quite a temper, she has become a force to be reckoned with at bedtime. I think she has some latent abandonment issues that she's been struggling with lately as well, from (I assume) her time at the orphanage, where face time was by default at a premium.

The holidays were a detriment to routine, as they always are, and babies like their routine. Babies need that routine, as it establishes and affirms their cause-effect understanding, and solidifies the illusion of linear time to which we're all accustomed. Couple that with the leaps and bounds she's been making in the cognitive and communication arenas, and the time was right for railing against the sleep establishment. If she could write, she'd be making protest signs. (She can write, actually; she can draw a very crude triangle, circle and letter L, all thanks to her mad toddler skillz and my unerring tutelage. Is it early for that kind of thing? I hope so, because it would help to build the case for my naming her genius.)

We'd been trying everything we could think of to get her to chill out and swing into sleep mode, and it was getting maddening. Very luckily for Laurana, H and I managed to take turns getting to the point of pulling our hair out, and the baby has survived thus far. All in all it was making me at least feel like a failing parent and one who could never go out again in the evening for fear of messing up Laurana's sleep schedule, thus dooming my marriage to a certain demise.

Eventually, though, we realized that she just needed to regress a little, and we took a couple of steps back in her sleep time evolution to the point where we'd both stand by he bed while she fell asleep. Each day the process took a little less time, and it's getting manageable once again.

Last night it was just Laurana and I, as H had rehearsal and the older kids were at their dad's for the weekend. We grocery shopped (she insisted on carrying a can of tuna through the entire store, which at least kept her busy, and maybe she'll even like it when she tries it), had dinner, played, watched the Shirley Temple sing-along tape (cable was out from the gas explosion), and get ready for bed. Then I decided to try my new tactic: after her bottle (yes, I know) and her two standard books, she agreed to lie in bed while I read to her. Due to her recent fascination, I chose the story of The Little Mermaid - the actual fairy tale, not the Disneyized version. The deal was that she had to have her head on her pillow or I couldn't (wouldn't) read.

It seemed to work. At first, I would get through a paragraph or so of story, and she'd say, "Me see!" and point to the book, expecting gaudy colorful pictures like in a regular kid's storybook. But, nay, we doth kick it old school, and there was nary picture to be found. I told her that she had to se the pictures "in here," and tapped her forehead. At first she said, 'No," mainly because I don't think she got it at first. But then she let it slide and just lay there in the dim glow of the nightlight to listen, and intently at that. She should always listen to me so well.

As the story progressed, my voice got quieter and quieter. And by the time I got to the part where the little mermaid rescues the prince from drowning (I almost added, "now, the prince doesn't die at this time," but I thought the interruption in the pace of the story might jerk her toward wakefulness), she was asleep. Yay. I'd secretly hoped that she'd be the kind of child that would take to being read to sleep, and I was recently reminded of that fact when H told me that my voice was good for lulling in the quiet moments (which I decided to take as a compliment, as was intended). It makes me happy, and I hope the trend continues. Then it'll be time to choose which books to fill her little brain with. Let the games begin.

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