A slight pause from the scintillating TV reviews and time to dip my toes once again into the ever present waters of domesticity...
Karen and I are both gritty eyed this morning – so much so if there’d been a frost last night we could have cleared the roads this morning just by looking at them.
Tom woke at 3 am and then 5 am and then stayed awake, screaming for a full hour until I eventually gave in and took him downstairs. We’re desperately trying to dissuade him from waking twice in the night so, although he got fed at 3, he got nada at 5. A nappy change and words of comfort didn’t help at all. Not one iota. He’s a very determined, very focused little boy.
Training a baby to sleep through the night is surprisingly tough. We want to break one habit without kick-starting another hence although he gets a hug it’s kept to a minimum... we don’t want him screaming the place down in the middle of the night for the next 3 months just because he wants some social interaction. It’s difficult letting him cry though. It’s impossible not to feel mean – though as soon as he was picked up he was full of beaming smiles and giggles. Little tyke.
There’s something about a baby’s scream in the small hours that does something to your brain. It’s like having your frontal lobes lanced with a light sabre. A big purple one like Mace Windu’s. I have to say (almost with a sense of pride) that Tom’s lungs have an awe inspiring capacity. People in the street – were there any at that time in the morning and in the gales that were buffeting the little cul-de-sacs of Little Whinging – would have thought that foulest murder was being committed in our house. I’m sure that blue whales out in the Pacific were picking up Tom’s cries and were whistling back for him to be quiet! He even out-galed the gale.
Anyway, it’s ironic that sleep training at the moment seems to mean that nobody gets any sleep at all. All of us are looking sandy eyed and rather “blurgh” this morning – even Tom.
It’s nice to know he so much wants to be part of the family...!