Saturday, June 03, 2006

my sanity speaks

We have a Child And Youth organisation thingy over there that helps out with issues like sleeping. There's also an associated parent help line which is available 24/7 for advice. Theirs was 'Oh no! Don't leave a crying baby alone!' which was kind of very unFerber like, and contradicted what I was following in the books. Hmm. In any case, I went to their drop-in centre on Thursday evening and am booked into something called a Day Service sometime in June, the 21st I think, so that Daniel and my routine can be observed and hints can be given to help get him to sleep and me off the sauce.

I've tossed the fucking books away too because honestly, this escalated from being an irritating penchant of Daniel's to not nap (despite being delirious with fatigue), to being a distressing exercise for both of us once I started doing What The Books Say. Daniel may have been displaying signs of separation anxiety, or been going through a developmental phase, (aka a Wonder Week) and if so on either count, I'd rather feel I helped him through it, rather than forced him into submission.

So we've been taking a gentler appoach, and if Daniel isn't learning how to put himself to sleep, I can learn to help him do it for a while yet. After all, the chances of him growing out of needing a pat on the tummy and a nice song while he's seventeen are very high. It's also okay to want to chuck him out the window, as long as I don't actually do it. I've got to stop being so hard on myself for simply feeling things, you know? Also, I could do a with a bit of restraint with the catastrophising too.

Some would say the Controlled Crying, Cry It Out gig didn't work because I didn't try hard enough, but two weeks of my baby getting more and more upset at the prospect of naptime was the failure, not my inability to follow through. In any case, I'm a lot more relaxed already, and Daniel napped like a champ yesterday morning too. Granted, he refused to go down in the afternoon, then missed out on anything more than an interrutpted snooze in his diamond encrusted car seat (the one that, for what I paid for it, should gently massage his precious self and do my housework) until he went passed out cold while nursing at 9.30pm (which the books say is a Bad Thing, and my reply to them is a big old raspberry)

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