Saturday we, plus E&D and Small E and Small O, and L&D and Small C all trooped down to Hastings Library to watch the duo from The Buzznicks play to a roomful of appreciative small people. M recognised the male half of the duo as someone he knew who used to play in another Melbourne Band, Ergot Derivative. I realised that the female half of the duo was someone I used to see perform all the time about 13 years ago (ouch) in an a capella group called Nude Rain. Their album Flood was on high rotation at that point in my life – they were great…
After the show, and having failed to win Paul Kelly’s new book in the raffle, we all headed home at varying speeds and gathered for lunch and various cups of tea and coffee. A lovely morning. Just before they left I asked E about how she goes with settling Small O (three weeks older than Small D) to sleep. She said she basically just observes her tired signs, wraps her up, puts her in the cot, strokes her nose and leaves her to slumber. Which she then does.
I am not sure why this took a large scoop out of my psyche. E certainly did not intend it to, she was just telling me how things work at her place. But I was suddenly full of self doubt and second guessing. Why don’t I have a baby that goes to sleep like that? Do I miss her tired signs? Why do I have to walk up and down and up and down for ages? Why, why and WHY!? I became despairing, visualising a repeat scenario from when Small Z was tiny. When I got thinner and thinner, and more and more sleep deprived and this stretched out over t-w-o y-e-a-r-s and took a large part my sanity with it…
The thought that I might have to do that all again was suddenly too much to bear. Stupidly, after a day where we’d been out and things had been noisy, and sleep had been minimal, I tried to wrap Small D and emulate my friend. As if it was going to work. From an intellectual standpoint I KNOW that every baby is different. I KNOW that her first babe was the same as Small O and settled himself beautifully from the outset. And yet I tried. And failed. Obviously.
The next day we had to go to my mother’s new house for lunch. This contributed to another unsettled day punctuated by a two hour round trip in the car, which was fairly tortuous. Poor Small D seems to be unable to fall asleep in the car, and we had to stop on the way home so M could get her to sleep pacing the car park of a petrol station and then stick her back in her capsule while still slumbering. *shudder* I was getting flashbacks to horrible drives with Small Z.
So on Monday and Tuesday I stayed home. All day. Went nowhere. And Small D and I regained some sanity. I was able to watch her for sleepy signs and she was able to chill out without being dragged around anywhere. We had a friend of M’s stay in the caravan for two nights – the perfect guest, Stefan bought us fish and chips on Monday night and helped M bring the trimaran home to live in our driveway… as well as exploring some bicycle paths on his impressive machine.
Of course, and I hesitate to write this, Small D has completely negated all my dire and Eeyore-like misgivings of the weekend. She slept for four and a half hours for two nights in a row *goggle* and was having at least one extended nap during the day in her pram. It’s taken me four days to get to finish this post and that’s not so bad, because I’ve attained some perspective during that time. Two things: THIS TOO SHALL PASS and, um, THIS TOO SHALL PASS. And this is both good, and sad.