A Slave to the Routine?

When I was at uni I used to babysit for a couple, friends of mine, on the odd occasion that they decided to trust someone else with the care of their only child, a 2 year old boy. They started their family fairly late in life and it was a battle to bring their little one into the world, so understandably they were very protective of him. They didn't leave the house until he was well and truly asleep and phoned every hour to check in. During the day everything they did revolved around his routine. Eating and sleeping were all carefully timed and were always done at home. The child was very sensitive to any changes in the routine but I was never sure what came first; did his parents develop the routine because he was a sensitive child, or was the routine so carefully planned, and his parents so highly strung, that the child became dependent on every day being exactly the same?

I was barely out of my teens at the time so I had no concept of what it takes to develop and maintain a routine for a small child. All I saw were 2 previously easy-going people letting a child determine absolutely everything they did and how they did it. I simply could not understand it. When I fell pregnant I spoke to friends with kids about what they did each day. I was surprised to find so many different opinions and methods just in my small social circle. It seemed to be a very personal decision, with most people swearing by whatever it was that they did. I decided a routine wasn't for me. I didn't know what the alternatives were but I thought we'd figure it out.

I've probably mentioned this several times before but when J arrived we battled with breastfeeding. He was naturally a 3-hourly feeder but it would take an hour and a half to get through each feed. Sometimes he fell asleep afterwards, other times, he lay awake until the next feed, sometimes he'd just cry for an hour, it was different each time and utterly exhausting. He never napped well, and would be overtired by 5pm, sending our evenings into complete disarray. It didn't take long to work out that he needed decent naps during the day to get a good sleep at night - oh, the irony! After 8 weeks of this I decided that maybe a routine wasn't such a bad idea and I started doing some research. We tried EASY (eat, activity, sleep, you time), and it wasn't. Then we tried some of the Baby Whisperer's suggestions, which were very similar, but wholly dependent on having a compliant child, which ours wasn't. I wanted something that was based on what our child needed, and I realised that the only way to get that was to work it out myself.

We fed him by the clock and if he fell asleep during a feed, we didn't wake him. We bathed him at the same time each day and made sure he didn't nap after 5pm.  It was hard work some days and we had some bad habits in place at times but suddenly at around 12 weeks J started sleeping through. We managed to muck that up when we went to Australia for a month, but we saw the light at the end of the tunnel and are always working towards that, even now. Over the last 6 months we kept working on it and perfecting the routine, and every time we thought we had it all figured out, everything changed again. For a few weeks there, J and I would get up together around 6, he'd have a feed and we'd curl up together in the big bed and nap for an hour or so in the morning. It didn't last long and I still miss those days! He kept growing and changing and as he did he needed less and less sleep. We went to 4 hourly feeds, then solids and 3 meals a day, and now finally we're down to 2 naps a day.

J is pretty flexible about when and where he sleeps during the day. If we're going out and he's tired, he'll nap in the car. As long as he has one long sleep in his cot every day he's happy. He does like to eat at the same time every day, which is fair enough, so do I. He's also pretty happy to eat on-the-go so that's flexible too. The only part of the day that I don't waiver on, ever, is bedtime. We have our nighttime routine so perfectly down pat, that I don't dare do anything to upset the balance. He has dinner, a bath, some dessert, a bottle, story-time and is in bed by 7.30pm at the latest. There was a time when I couldn't get him to go to bed for the night before 9pm so I am hanging on to this routine for dear life. I cherish my son and his company, but I love the time of day when he is in bed and I can sit quietly with my husband and not have to worry about anyone else. Our helper knows the routine and I know if I leave J with her, the evening will go down exactly as it would if I were here. But I have recently been faced with the dilemma of dinner invitations that include J as well. I find myself cringing at the thought of taking him out with us and disrupting the flow of our perfectly orchestrated bedtime ritual.

I haven't yet decided if one night is going to make a difference and throw off the whole week, or whether J will sleep regardless of where we are and what we're doing at his designated bedtime. It has been such a challenge to get to this point and it has always seemed like a fragile set up. I hear stories of children who don't go to sleep until 9, 10, even 11 o'clock at night and I'm terrified that that's just around the corner. I'm starting to realise that despite my earlier reservations about routines, we really need one; not for J's sake but mine.

Help Me Help You

When we first moved to Hong Kong we never imagined that we would hire a domestic helper. It’s not all that common in Australia (at least amongst the people we know) to hire someone else to do your housework. It seemed an unnecessary luxury. However, after a year here, realising how easy and inexpensive it was to have someone come in once a week, and sick of arguing about whose turn it was to do the vacuuming, we relented. Hiring a full-time helper can be a lucky dip. I’ve heard many horror stories about helpers stealing from their employers or sleeping with their husbands. Sometimes personalities clash and it just doesn’t work out, but whatever happens it can be a time-consuming, expensive and emotional process. At the end of the day you're inviting a virtual stranger into your home and trusting them with the most precious people in your world.

Fortunately, we hit the jackpot with our helper, L. She started off part-time but when we found out I was pregnant we convinced ourselves that we had to have someone full-time once the baby arrived, knowing that without family anywhere nearby we would struggle. I have a lot of respect for mothers who manage without a helper and appreciate how hard it must be; especially for those living here away from the support of family and friends. I have friends back in Australia who are quite envious of our position and, while I struggle to justify it sometimes, I know how lucky we are. We were fortunate enough to be able to employ L full-time when her contract finished, and she started with us 8 weeks before our son arrived. I had a list a mile long of things for her to do to get the house ready for the baby, expecting it to take her several weeks. She finished most of it in two days. She’s efficient and intelligent and always happy. She follows my instructions to the letter (to the point where she pulls me up if I veer from the schedule at all) and most importantly, she adores my son; she has become a member of our family. It wasn’t always a perfect relationship and having someone else in my home all day every day was a big challenge. There was a time when I contemplated asking her to leave, simply because I wanted my space back and to have my baby to myself. Then when J was 9 weeks old I got sick and my husband had to go away. L moved in for 4 days and got up to do the night feeds, walked the dog and kept the house clean without complaint or hesitation, while I slept and got better. I realised how necessary she had become to our ability to function as a family.

We still have occasional misunderstandings, mainly due to the language barrier and my inability to express myself clearly, but it is a much more harmonious home these days. Something I have struggled with lately is a little bit of jealousy over the relationship between our helper and our son. He is so excited every day when she arrives and often complains when she leaves the room. She has a way of getting him to eat his vegetables when I constantly fail, and she manages to entertain him AND keep the house clean and tidy. One day last week I was feeding him when L arrived for the day and J just about jumped out of my arms. I was heartbroken and moaned to my husband, “I never get that response.” D told me I should be grateful that we have someone who J loves so much. When I thought about it rationally I had to admit that D was right; it would be much harder to leave him with someone he didn’t really care for. Still battling my green-eyed monster I was secretly overjoyed yesterday when the tables were turned. J and I had spent the whole day together and I handed to him to L when we got home and headed upstairs. I rushed back down excitedly when J started to wail and I found him holding his little arms out for his mummy. I felt terribly guilty that I was so thrilled that my son was upset by my absence, but secretly I also felt validated. I remember in the first few weeks of his life, when we were up for hours every night feeding and attempting to soothe our colicky baby, there were times when I wondered if he was happy. He hadn’t smiled and barely registered my presence; I was basically a walking milk bar. I so longed for some response: a sign that we were doing the right thing and that this little guy knew we were his parents. We were overjoyed when he started smiling and I felt for the first time that it had all been worth it.

I guess, without realising it, I have still been basing my success as a parent on J’s response to me. I don’t expect thanks for the hours I spend cooking and pureeing food, for getting up in the middle of the night, for changing pooey nappies, I do it all out of love, but a cuddle and a smile from him says, “You’re appreciated.” When someone else is getting the smiles and cuddles I feel a bit deflated, is that wrong? I have no doubt that this is something I will grapple with for a while, but in the meantime someone else is cleaning my toilet, so I won’t complain too loudly.