Monday, 26 February 2018

He packed his bags and left me





River said that sleeping in his parents room is for babies and now that he’s approaching the big 6 months, he wants to project a more mature, independent image to his peers. At least I think that's what he said.

I was intending to keep River sleeping in his crib in our room for a bit longer, but I took the plunge in a stubborn attempt to prove I wasn't a clingy mum; I decided to try him in his own room. He was starting to stir in the night at any little noise we were making (some more than others, Jason) and I was worried it would start to affect his sleep pattern so I sent him packing. 
Giving him his bedtime feed the first night was an emotional one for me. I cried hugging him and seriously took my time before settling him down into his bed. The thought of a wall being between us all night was hurting my heart and I was convinced he couldn't be without me. Meanwhile, Jason armed himself with a plethora of noisy bedtime snacks and turned the TV volume up to 6 in celebration.

While I think moving him out was a positive move in regards to our attachment to each other, I do now have a new favourite TV show called 'the monitor' which I like to watch intensely before I fall asleep and that I leave on full volume all night; much to the delight of Jason who wishes I would just go and watch the live show instead of listening to a shrill white noise echoing in the room. 

River woke only once the first night for a feed, albeit brief. Very brief. One he probably didn't need but clingy old mum over here forced the firehose boob on him didn't she, so he was polite and had some. Then he woke up the next morning happy as ever, looking around the room and contemplating the best place to put a football table in his new bachelor pad. It really wasn't the dramatic night of heartbreak that I had visualised.

Turns out, River tricked me.

The honeymoon period lasted a total of two nights. Enough time for me to brag to everyone that he was sleeping in his own room like I’m mum of the year or something. Except he's not anymore. I'm now having to settle him every two hours most nights which is an absolute ball ache and is really bringing out the colour of my eye bags. I've had to fight the temptation to set up camp in his room; for some reason taking those 10 steps from our bedroom to his at 3am feels like a 2 day hike across the desert. He’s really not taking to being by himself all night and I feel like it’s a combination of growth spurts, weaning, teeth poking and just general fussiness that’s making him regret his big move. He’s slowly moving his stuff back in to ours and I think he’s embarrassed because he hasn't told his mates that I’ve been bringing him in our room for cuddles at 4am when I just can’t drag myself in and out any longer.

Last night really took the piss and being up every single hour to calm his screaming was too much. Not to mention, the next door neighbour slamming their doors to let me know we had woken them each time tested my patience beyond measure. The cheek of having a baby that cries huh? I had a serious, sleep-deprived, ugly cry at Jason who reassured me I wasn’t a shit mum and Riv wasn’t a shit baby; we just have to go back to the drawing board with it and try different tactics. If anything I wish he WAS a shit baby so that I would expect nothing from him, but he’s so good that it makes the hard times harder. For now we're just concentrating on getting his day naps perfect and IN his room before we try and introduce the big move at night again. Having him cuddling and falling asleep on me in the day while I watch Keeping up with the Kardashians is lovely and gives me an excuse not to do any housework but it doesn't do Riv any favours. Plus he hasn't seen the first 9 seasons so I have to keep telling him which one is Khloe which is starting to get annoying.
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