It's no secret in my house when my son is upset. He lets the whole world know he's ticked off. And he stays ticked off until he starts coughing and gets sick or I come and soothe him, albeit, somewhat reluctantly on my part at times because I want him to learn how to self-soothe. Is self-soothing an unattainable goal? A pipe dream that only lucky and Hall of fame parents are able to teach their kids? These questions race through my mind as I attempt again to put my squirming son down for a nap.
The same thought crept sleepily through my mind as well when I held him. All. Night. Long. Now that is part of my issue. We have a family bed as I am still nursing the little one at night for nutrition and comfort, so I do hold him all night. But in the daytime, I want a break from having his 22 pounds of wriggling, flesh bruising, grasping, and hair-pulling. Don't get me wrong, I love my son dearly, but when do I get some momma time?
So, in the day time, I nurse my son until he is asleep because if I try to put him down "sleepy" he pops right back up...always has. When he is asleep, I transfer him to his crib and sneak out of the room on whispering toes that carry 20 less pounds and I pirouette around my kitchen blissfully until I hear the telltale little cry of protest coming from the baby's room. I hear it again a little louder this time. I try to pretend that I heard nothing and go about my somewhat deflated business. Again, I hear him stirring and I know that I just put him down 10 minutes ago, but my arms still itch to reach out and pick him up. I scratch my palms and bite my knuckles. The intensity of his cries pick up. He's getting persistent and I am sitting on the rim of the bathtub, white faced and beating myself up.
Finally, as he is coughing and screaming, I know that he is not just going to lie back down and go to sleep. No, he is going to continue screaming until someone knocks on my door to ask if everything is okay. So I pick myself up, put on my best soothing, sweet and calm face and stride confidently into his room. One look at that tear streaked face and I turn to absolute mush. I scoop him up and immediately begin to apologize and tell him how sorry I am that I let him cry when he just wanted comfort.
I nurse him and stroke his sweaty little face, noting the dark circles under his eyes and how he rubs them with his little marshmallow fists. I hum a lullaby and rock him until he is nodding off... then UP he pops as he tries to slide off my lap and onto the floor. I pull him back and tell him gently but firmly that it is nap- time. He arches his back and squeals in outright rebellion. He gnashes his teeth and arches and twists and grunts, doing anything he can to get down. I struggle with this inside myself. Do I just put him down and assume that he will play himself out and put himself to sleep? Do I continue to fight him and wrestle as he flails every arm and limb that he has available? Do I pick this battle or the next one? Do I toss the little guy in his crib and leave the room to let him scream it out again? I've tried all of them separately and together. I have twisted myself up in knots over and over trying to figure out which approach will be the best for him to teach him to soothe himself.
He doesn't take a pacifier or have a lovey. He doesn't suck his thumb, either. What is a worn out mom to do? Turn to the Internet? It is chock full of advice and remedies and nice people with good intentions. How about articles and parenting books? Dr. Phil and Dr. Sears or Dr. Spock? Any and all of them have their great ideas, points and techniques. But the fact still remains that my son is not their kid and what worked for this kid and that kid might not work for mine.
In the end, I know that I am most likely going to have to shove my body under the bus and just grit my teeth as I hold him until he conks out. Better to have this struggle now and let him know who's boss...right? I mean, he's only getting bigger, smarter, faster and stronger and if I can't stick out a major flailing from a 7 month old, how, oh, how am I going to be able to take it from a 60 pounder?
So again I ask myself: Do I continue to fight him and wrestle as he flails every arm and limb that he has available? You bet I do.
I resolve my resolution to try to do the best thing that I know how to do so that I can see a smiling face more often than a tired out, grumpy, half-awake kid.
Then I bite my lip and pick him up from where he is playing quietly. "It's nap time." I say, not in my sweet, playful mommy voice, but in my firm mom voice. He turns his huge eyes up to me. He smiles sweetly as he snuggles into me as if to say that he is self-soothing. It's just that he needs mommy to help him out. I know that it is hard, hard, hard to be on top of what the right thing to do is with my son, but sometimes...sometimes he makes it really easy. Now get to sleep, you little cretin!