Second Time Around

You know all those things I said I'd never do again? All the mistakes I made and the lessons I learned the first time? Well... I'm doing it all again - rocking Charlie to sleep, giving him a dummy, carrying him around wherever I go when he absolutely refuses to sleep, feeding him in bed till we both fall asleep, and sitting around all day just enjoying his company instead of getting off my butt (which apparently did not receive the memo that we are no longer pregnant) and doing something resembling exercise/housework. I've given myself permission to do it all over again because I know what I'm doing this time, I know we'll end up with some bad habits and I'm ok with that. It's all about survival at the moment and if I have to take the path of least resistance to get through the next 6 months, so be it.

I read through book after book trying to find answers when J was smaller, and when I realised that none of them answered any of my questions, I tossed them all out. Some were a little helpful, but despite the one-size-fits-all solutions offered, my child just didn't comply. When Charlie came along he surprised us by being a comparatively easy baby and I didn't feel the need to turn to "experts" for advice. Then he hit the baby version of menopause - "the 6 week change" as Robin Barker calls it - and started napping for no more than 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. It was all too familiar...

I didn't have much of a plan in the beginning, I just knew I wanted to do things differently the second time around, I was determined, perhaps somewhat naively, to nip it in the bud. When Charlie went through "the change" I had no choice but to go back to the books. I borrowed one from a friend called "Sleep Sense" and it really did make sense. There were a few new, and genuinely helpful, pieces of advice in there but it was all just a bit too familiar. Again I was left asking, "but what do I do when...?" So I've decided that, for now, rather than trying to find one philosophy, one solution to all my problems, I'm going to do whatever the hell feels right at the time. At least once a day we practice attachment parenting, and Charlie naps on my chest or in the Ergo. Other times I channel the Baby Whisperer and take a firm but fair approach. Then there are times when he needs some serious Gina Ford style wrangling to go the f##k to sleep...  At least I'm consistent in my inconsistency, and I now have a 3 month old who goes to bed at 6pm every night and sleeps for 12 hours. I'm always going to stress about whether or not I'm doing the right thing, and I will question myself every step of the way but that's just one more thing the books can't help me with.

A friend told me, before Charlie arrived, that I'd appreciate baby number 2 all the more for the simple fact that, unlike with the first child, I wouldn't end up resenting the disruption to our lives. I wasn't sure I got what she meant at the time but now I do. Our lives were already chaos, and Charlie fit right in, like he was meant to be here, and we simply carried on. What has struck me the most is that the first 3 months of his life have gone so much faster than Josh's first 3 months (which dragged on FOREVER!). We got to the 12 week mark, looked at each other and said, "you know what, that wasn't so bad." And we gave ourselves a little pat on the back for making it through. There are still tough days, really really long days, and days when I have no clue what I'm doing, but unlike the first time around, I know they won't last. And there's a good chance that when Charlie is a strong and independent little man, I'll long for the days when he needed me wrapped around him to fall asleep. So I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, making those mistakes, setting us up for bad habits, because I know that, if in making those mistakes again we risk history repeating itself, we'll be ok. Because we survived the last two years and we have a pretty awesome 2 year old to show for it.

Zzzzzzzzzz!

Sleep. When you're a parent of small children it becomes an obsession. When I'm awake I'm structuring our day to make sure both boys are stimulated and fed enough (but not too much) to make sure they are perfectly worn out and drowsy at night. When I'm asleep I'm usually concentrating very hard on staying asleep, and praying that I get enough to make it through the next day. Anything that disturbs the balance - a fever, a nightmare, the dog, a thunderstorm, a f**king jackhammer in the daytime, is met with an exhausted rage that would make me cry if only I had the energy. Quite simply, I live, eat and breathe sleep. After 12 weeks of getting 4 consecutive hours at the most, I am barely functioning, and definitely not "firing on all cylinders," as my husband so eloquently puts it. When anyone asks me how I am my response is usually, "so freaking tired." Sleep has become such a precious commodity that if someone offered me a choice between a gift of diamonds, or 24 hours, by myself in a hotel, I would take the sleep without giving it a second thought. It's boring I know, but I cannot think or talk about anything else until I get some sleep.

The old "sleep when the baby sleeps" goes out the window when you also have a toddler, and if there are less than 3 adults in the house, the chance to catch up evaporates faster than my patience. For something so essential to survival, I cannot believe that babies are born not knowing how to sleep. It's not rocket science kiddies! They don't know that they need it and as their parents you need to help them, for your sake as much as theirs. It's a delicate balancing act, and what worked for one kid might have the opposite effect on the other. So my days and nights have been spent tweaking things ever so slightly looking for the magic combination. Charlie doesn't like to be swaddled, and he sleeps better when the fan is on instead of the air-con. We need to give him a dream-feed, something we never did with Josh, and he prefers to go to sleep with white noise in the background, rather than music. It also helps when I am absolutely shattered and don't hear him fussing. I've been getting him up and popping a boob in his mouth whenever he stirred, pre-empting a crying fit which would wake everyone else, but it turns out I didn't need to. Last night we got the balance right, we found the holy grail, and the little guy slept for 12 solid hours! I slept through every whimper and grunt, and when he was done, Charlie just carried on sleeping. The urge to feed woke me before he did (they don't call it a let-down for nothing...) but I know now that he doesn't need to eat as often as I was trying to feed him. I'd be cross with myself for not figuring it out sooner if I wasn't so overjoyed. I feel like a new woman, like I could take on the world. I know there will always be bad nights, and tonight could very well be one of them. If I have learned anything from this parenting gig, it's that things always change just when you think you've got them figured out. But I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel.

It's official - Charlie can sleep through. Now we just need to convince his big brother to do the same...

For those of you in the same boat, you are not alone. This is old, but it still makes me smile - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xtcB457jqQ

A Waiting Game

I am now 38 weeks pregnant and with any luck, we are about 2 weeks away from meeting this little person. I'm torn between being really excited, and absolutely terrified.

When close friends were expecting their second child, the husband complained that there was nowhere near the same amount of fuss made when they announced their pregnancy. He felt as if people somehow cared less. I haven't noticed that at all, and if anything I've appreciated the fact that there's been less unsolicited advice this time around. People assume, because you've done it all before, you know what you're doing and they let you get on with it. After J was born I looked at friends who were having their second or third babies with awe and admiration. The simple fact that they had been through it all and were willing to do it again seemed worthy of high praise (either that or they were completely mad - it varied depending on how much sleep I'd had). It's the thought of facing all of the feeding and crying and sleep deprivation again, and trying to manage a very loveable but headstrong toddler, that keeps me awake at night, praying that I'll get a few more days. I clench every muscle in my body and chant, "don't come out tonight, don't come out tonight," over and over. I'm physically feeling about as ready as I'll ever be, and can't imagine I could be more uncomfortable than I am right now, but despite 38 weeks of preparation, I am far from ready mentally and emotionally, and that's quite a crucial part of the process me thinks.

As much as you prepare and plan and talk to people about it all, you can never fully grasp just how amazing, exhausting, beautifully overwhelming and utterly all-consuming having your first child can be, until they're there in your arms, taking over your home, and so completely and effortlessly stealing your heart. I'm sure we have a few shocks in store for us, as we learn how amazing, exhausting, beautifully overwhelming and utterly all-consuming having a second child can be, and I simply cannot wait to see my J as a big brother, but we know what we're getting this time around, and to me that makes it even more special. I don't mean that we know we're getting a boy or a girl, and we have no way of knowing what kind of person this little one will be, but we know what it's like to create a child and we remember the joy of that first meeting, and how precious it is to watch them grow - with every day bringing something new and different. We don't know how we managed it, but our son is an awesome human being, and every day he does or says something that blows us away. The fact that I get to go through all of that again is what excites me the most, and if anything, it makes the anticipation of BITO's arrival even greater.

At this point in my first pregnancy I had put on 20kgs, I was 4cm dilated and I had been told by my obstetrician that our baby would arrive "any day." He was still defiantly 2 weeks away but we were so desperate to meet him that we did everything we could to get him out. This time it's me, defiantly hanging in there, not yet ready to surrender to what my body will inevitably do with or without my compliance. I want to give my son more time as my one and only, and I want one more chance to have dinner alone, out somewhere with my husband, I want to keep the appointments for a massage and a haircut that I have this week, and I want to sleep for 10 hours straight as many times as I possibly can before our world is changed forever once again (I'd also like to avoid having a baby on the 29th of February if I can...). Then, I'll be ready to take on everything wonderful, and not so wonderful, that lies ahead. So, dear baby, you will be welcomed with love whenever you arrive, but Mummy would like it if you would kindly wait a few more days.

Night Terrors

For the last four nights in a row we have been woken at least once by a small person demanding attention. The first night J woke up screaming, twice. It was so unusual that we were both awake instantly, and J did get our full attention. A few nights later and we're a little more relaxed, but no less perplexed about the cause of J's nighttime angst. D has better hearing than me, he sleeps closest to the door and he isn't attempting to grow another human being at the moment so he's usually the first out of bed, but on Saturday night I was on my own. At approximately 11.45pm I was woken by a shout - "Mummy!?" It wasn't frightened or frantic, and there were no tears, but it was persistent, as if he just needed to be sure I was there. Dragging my 36 + weeks pregnant body out of bed takes some serious effort at the best of times, but after being woken from a deep and dreamy sleep it's almost impossible. I lumbered my way into J's room and found him sitting up in bed as if it was first thing in the morning. He turned to me and said, "hop in Mummy's bed?" hopefully. "No," I replied, wearily. "Mummy hop in the cot?" Again, full of hope and optimism. "No," I replied, wearily and emphatically, "not even if I wanted to."

In his entire life J has only slept in our bed a handful of times, and only when he's been sick or we've been on holidays and had no other option. Anytime we've ever had to have him in our bed none of us have had what you might call "quality sleep" so it's been easy to not make a habit out of it. I figured he might want to get into bed with us in a few weeks time when he realises that the new baby is sleeping with Mummy and Daddy, but this recent and sudden departure from "sleeping through" has taken me completely by surprise. 

On Saturday night I was determined not to give in. I pictured myself and my husband living separate lives for the next 5 years as we each took turns to sleep with one or more of the children, and I stayed resolutely outside of the cot, and kept J safely inside of it. I rubbed his back, tickled his face and tried not to nod off with my head resting on the side of the cot. Any time he sensed that I was about to leave, or fall asleep standing up, J would call out, "Mummy?" again and attempt to strike up a conversation. Eventually I realised that neither of us were getting any sleep anyway, and carried him into my bed, along with Dorothy the Dinosaur, and J's constant companion Bottomley Potts, a long-limbed stuffed dalmatian. After an hour of having him toss and turn beside me, bumping his head on the bedhead, chatting to Dorothy and attempting to sleep horizontally, I realised that he was actually, despite what he believed, going to be more comfortable in his own bed and I carried him back in there. He surrendered pretty easily and I didn't hear from him again, but I still woke up the next morning feeling like crap, and angry at the world in that way that only parents of small children can comprehend.

As I said, it's only been four nights but to add insult to injury my husband has recently started snoring... In our 8 years of living together he has never been a snorer and I have no idea why he's started now but it's making me think separate bedrooms for married couples aren't such a bad idea. It's not just the snoring that is the issue - It's the fact that I can't wake him to get him to stop snoring without sending him into cardiac arrest. Even in the deepest sleep he is poised and ready for D-Day. The slightest movement from my side of the bed has him reaching for the car keys and the hospital bag. It usually takes him a minute or two to absorb what I'm telling him when I say, "I'm not in labour, I just want you to shut the f**k up and sleep on your side, or I'm going to smother you with this pillow." Try getting back to sleep after that.

So J might only wake once or twice but when you add at least one episode of snoring, a few trips to the bathroom and one or two dog-related disturbances to the mix every night, there's not a lot of restful and restorative sleeping going on. I have to wonder just what it would take to sleep soundly for 10 hours, and I mean really soundly? And do you hand in your rights to a full night's sleep the minute you decide to start a family? I don't want to know the answer to this, but will I ever sleep well again? I started this blog all that time ago with a post about sleep deprivation. It was an obsession for such a long time, and no doubt will be again as we throw ourselves into life with a newborn. But we've had it pretty good for a while now and I had forgotten just how very bad it could be. I don't know if J is entering a new phase, if the universe is trying to prepare me for what lies ahead, or if I simply bragged one too many times that my child was a brilliant sleeper, but I am longing for the day when I will again wake up when my body has decided I have had enough sleep, and not when someone else does.

This Week We've Been...

I am terribly late with this week's post and I have no one to blame but myself. I could've written about a million different things but once again I'm going to cheat and give you a summary of everything that's happened in my little world since you saw me last. This week we've been:

Recovering after the 7's: A full three days of Rugby Sevens is a massive effort for anyone, and we had to do it just once while we're living here. The Friday is a short day just to whet your appetite. The Saturday is the biggest day and it's obligatory to dress up and drink all day in the south stand of the stadium. I decided to forgo the drinking (as my body is a temple these days) but I did dress up. I was not so keen when I learned that this year our group would be going as Playboy bunnies in honour of the Year of the Rabbit but I went with it...

I left early; there's only so much debauchery a sober girl can cope with, and regretted leaving my coat behind as the further I got from the stadium the less I looked like a rugby-goer, and the more people started to look at me like I'd just finished work in a bar in Wan Chai... I came home covered in beer and with no idea who played or what the day's results were, but it was a lot of fun. On Sunday we mustered the energy to go back and actually watch some rugby. We were more appropriately dressed for the 10 degree day and sat in the family stand with coffees and meat pies, and we paid attention to what was happening on the field. The highlight of the day was seeing the entire crowd on their feet cheering as Japan beat the USA in one of the semi-finals. I'm glad I can now say I've been to the 7's but think I'll be a Sunday supporter in future years.

Feeling better then feeling worse: I'm not sure if it's the placebo effect or the fact that I've generally been taking better care of myself but until Thursday I felt great. I had more energy, less numbness and a definite sense that something was going right. Then I went to work and spent an entire day running around town, forgot to take my potions and have been feeling like crap ever since. I'm pinning all my hopes (pun intended) on this Chinese medicine and acupuncture business but after this week's session had no positive results I'm starting to have my doubts. I felt ok yesterday and went to my first yoga class. It was a great workout but it left me aching and shaking all over, not what I was hoping for.

Battling a toddler who refuses to eat: My mantra this week is "it will pass" and I've been taking a lot of deep breaths and counting to ten. J has been on a hunger strike and refusing to eat his dinner. I've tried all sorts of things like giving him lunch early and no snacks in the afternoon, less milk and more finger food at dinner, but none of it has convinced him to eat. I don't know if it's a toddler power struggle or if he's just not hungry, but my husband put a stop to our battle the other night and skipped dinner altogether. I was beside myself, feeling like the worst mother in the world for letting my son go to bed without dinner, but apart from waking up really hungry, he didn't seem any worse off for it. 

Sleeping: The planets must have been aligned this week because all of a sudden J started sleeping through. Really sleeping through, like going to bed at 7pm and waking around 6.30, with no crying out or fussing during the night. The last few nights he's woken once or twice but several consecutive nights of uninterrupted sleep has been amazing! 

Celebrating Spring: The last few months have been cold and miserable and I've hated it. There have been tantalising glimpses of finer weather but the greyness has always returned. The leaves have returned to the trees, the flowers are in bloom, the birds are waking us up ridiculously early, we've had three days of warm temperatures, and the sky is blue, so I'm thinking it's time to declare that it is finally spring. I'll be complaining in a few weeks that it's too hot but for now I'm enjoying this fabulous season by...

Creating our own little piece of paradise: I grew up in the country and I like my wide open spaces. Hong Kong isn't exactly renowned for that so we live in the most rural part of it. We don't have a backyard though, and the closest thing to outdoor space we have is our rooftop. Until now this has been an ugly disused space but we recently got stuck in and created something a little more inviting. The BBQ has had it's first run for the season and the vegies should be ready to harvest in a couple of months. For now the roof is just an awesome place to chill out with my boys and enjoy our pretty special view. There is something so soul-soothing about getting your hands dirty and working with plants. I have always wanted a proper vegie garden, I just never imagined I'd be attempting it on a rooftop. I can't wait to see what grows. 

 

Working: I know, it's a shock right? I got a call from the school I was working in (before I decided staying at home was much more fun) and they asked me to invigilate an exam. It was a half day, no classroom work, and I had no valid reason to say no. I was shattered by the end of the day but it was nice to be doing something else. Unfortunately I'm not going to have a choice pretty soon and will need to do a fair bit of work as we are...

Renovating the kitchen: It's been a long time coming and the current kitchen has been the subject of many complaints on my part. We could've made do for a while longer but the sink needed to be repaired recently and my husband decided to do it himself. The tap has leaked since we moved in and D told me that to fix it he'd need to take the sink out. Taking the sink out involved lifting the countertop and when he did that he found that the whole cabinet was rotten and mouldy. This is what I came home to the day my handyman was "fixing the tap"...

  

So we now have a temporary bench from IKEA, and an urgent need to re-do the whole kitchen. After arguing about what we wanted we decided that it's not worth arguing over, and D left me in charge of kitchen design. We went to Wan Chai this week and got a quote and were surprised by how easy it was to choose what we wanted. Now we just need to finance it...

It's been a busy week, and another one of those weeks where I wonder aloud on Friday afternoon where it all went. There have also been playdates and trips into town and walks with the dog, and a million other little things that make life sweet.

So there you have it. A lazy post but a post nonetheless. Have a great week everyone.

Forward Thinking

I've hit the books once again. I know I swore off reading any more how-to-parent books but that was before I found myself surrogate mummy to a two year old. I decided that dealing with such an important (and challenging) period in a child's life is not something I want to learn about on the job, I need to be forewarned and as prepared as I can be, even if it frightens the living daylights out of me. So I turned to my good friend Robin Barker once again, as she guided me through every aspect of J's first year so brilliantly (with the exception of teething, as she is so totally wrong about that!).

Robin talks a lot about outcomes-based parenting, and what she says, with more than a hint of disdain, has really got me thinking. So many of us are focused on doing things a certain way now because we want to ensure a good outcome in the future. Or we want to avoid certain scenarios later on. There's nothing wrong with that, according to Robin, but at times we bend ourselves over backwards trying to achieve something when it really would be easier to just think about what we all need right now. I've been hellbent on getting J to eat a variety of really healthy, tasty foods, and I struggle when all he wants is toast and bananas. I thought I was instilling good eating habits, for the future, when in reality, he'll probably end up spending a good portion of his early adulthood eating cold pizza and beer. I haven't really considered whether or not he actually wants to eat vegetables at the time that I'm sitting down to force-feed them to him. I also get really frustrated when he doesn't eat very much, and I want him to finish his meal, mostly because I don't want him to be hungry later, but also because I was always made to finish everything on my plate when I was a kid. It had nothing to do with whether or not I was actually hungry anymore, and I can't believe I'm doing the same thing to my son, without even questioning why.

Sleep is another of those areas where we want good outcomes, because it's so crucial for everyone's sanity. But the way in which we achieve that is different for everyone. My niece has slept with her parents since she was seven months old, and most nights goes to bed when they do. I've insisted that J goes to bed every night at 7.30 and sleeps alone. Both very different methods but each has its own merits and works for those involved. I was worried that if we let him sleep in our bed there'd come a time when we'd want him out of there and that would be fairly traumatic for all of us. But I think the truth is that most kids who do sleep with their parents (as standard practice rather than as an emergency, out of sheer desperation, arrangement) just accept that it's time to move on at some point. A lot of Asian families all sleep in the same bed, or the same room at least, and it's very European for the kids to stay up as late as the adults. I'm willing to bet that anyone who practices either or both of these sleep habits doesn't think twice about what it might mean in the future. Now we're at a point where J can't sleep in our bed. He gets very excited and wants to play, even if it's 3am. Sometimes in emergencies, out of sheer desperation, I have brought him into our bed, and after playing with my eyelashes and sticking his finger up my nose for twenty minutes, he usually ends up falling asleep as soon as I return him to his cot.

School is another aspect of our children's lives that we agonise and torture ourselves over, because we worry about the outcome. I blame the fact that schools now have waiting lists a mile long, and there's intense pressure to choose a good high school and send off your application as the obstetrician is cutting the cord; even then it's too late sometimes. Here in HK there are so many different options for schooling that a number of parents I know have lost sleep over where to send their children for Kindergarten. You have to consider not only the curriculum, teaching styles, class sizes etc, but things like whether or not they offer Mandarin, which primary schools they feed to, if they offer a bus service and how long the daily commute will be. Last week I also learned that some of the local schools may not even have a Kindy class some years if they don't have enough kids enrolled - just one more thing to plan for. The scary thing is that these decisions have to be made for two-year-olds! Imagine what it's like when they get to high school! J's only 15 months old and we're already talking about it at length, worrying that the wrong decision at this stage will have a great impact on his academic future. When I take a step back and really think about it, I've realised we really can't go wrong when it comes to choosing a kindergarten. I don't want to diminish any of the agony our friends have been through in making this decision; those early years of school are important, but they're mostly about having fun, making new friends, and getting into the habit of going to school and being away from Mummy and Daddy for a few hours every day. If we pick the "wrong" kindy or J doesn't get into a good primary school, we'll move, or we'll do better next time. It's not like a bad kindergarten is going to set him up for a lifetime of failure. What's important is that we are involved and caring parents, and when I get some more sleep that's exactly what I'll be. I hope one day, J will get into a good high school and be a great student, but I'm resolving to worry about that later.

I'll admit that I have been an outcomes-obsessed parent until now, and it's a tough habit to break. Every day we do things with the future in mind. From buying a shoebox in the backwaters of Hong Kong so one day we can afford our dream home in Aus, to bringing in the washing because it might rain later, we think about the future, short-term and long, all the time, sometimes without a good reason for it. I know it's important, when you have kids, to plan ahead and consider the consequences of your actions and parenting decisions, but sometimes I think I'm making mistakes and missing out on what's happening now. And it changes so, so quickly. I'm going to start trying to focus more on the day-to-day stuff and what's right for J, and us, right now - with a little bit of consideration for further down the track. I'm going to start with dinner tonight: Vegemite on toast all round!

A Word About Sleep

Today, if I can muster the energy, I want to talk about sleep. I'm so sleep deprived and delirious at the moment that it's the number one thing on my mind. Sleep, and lack of it, seems to be the biggest preoccupation of most parents. I've written about it a few times (see here), usually when I've been desperately tired, but always with the hope that one day soon, things would get better. Now I'm starting to think that I'm going to have to wait several years before I get enough consecutive nights of sleep to feel remotely human again. After 15 months I'm worn out, strung out and feeling at least 10 years older than I am.

Before J was born I had read somewhere that almost immediately after birth, most babies fall into a deep, sound sleep for several hours. I went into labour late at night, about 10 minutes after getting into bed after a long day. I was awake for almost 24 hours when J finally arrived so I was looking forward to this extended nap. It didn't happen and if anything, he seemed energised by the whole experience, and didn't sleep properly for several weeks. Sleep, and how to get more of it, became an obsession for me. There are so many books on the subject and everyone seems to have a different opinion; from hardcore teach-to-sleep from day one to attachment/baby lead, "no routine is the best routine" regimes, I researched it all. I read dozens of books and spoke to everyone we knew who had kids that seemed to sleep well, but most of the techniques just didn't fit. J had colic and reflux and would go from being sleepy to overtired and unable to sleep in a heartbeat. He hated being put down, and only ever napped in our arms. I knew we had to do something but struggled to find a way to make it work for all of us, and sometimes under exceptional circumstances I found myself doing things I never thought I would. I've never been comfortable with the idea of controlled crying, but there were nights when I was beside myself with fatigue and nothing could soothe my little man, that I had to leave him in the cot and spend 5 minutes outside.

In trying to establish a routine that worked for all of us we made some mistakes and battled a baby who simply didn't want to rest when we wanted him to. Teaching him to go to bed at the same time every night and put himself to sleep, in the gentlest way possible, when he was six months old made a world of difference, but it certainly wasn't the end to our problems. The biggest lesson we've learned over the last 15 months is that every time we thought we had it figured it out, it was always very short-lived, and things would inevitably change again. We'd have a few good nights and then he'd get sick, or start teething, or wet the bed; there was always something.

When J cut back to one nap a day and was for the most part "sleeping through" we really did think we had it figured out once and for all. This week proved just how very wrong we were. Lately we've had enough decent nights of sleep to realise what a difference they can make to our general wellbeing. On the other hand we've also become quite attached to staying in bed all night, and reverting back to bad nights has come as a bit of a shock. After 4 or 5 wake up calls on Friday night, which ended at 6am with J and I in the cot together, we were hoping for a better night on Saturday night. It wasn't to be... He howled every time I left the room and fought sleep for about an hour. At 8pm I gave up and came downstairs, leaving him shouting in protest. That lasted about 15 minutes and after he finally passed out exhausted, so did I. The rest of the night followed a similar pattern to the night before, except Sunday started at 5am and he didn't go back to sleep. When I dragged myself out of bed for the seventeenth time I thought to myself how much it felt like the days when we had a newborn, only now I don't have hormones pushing me through each day, and somehow staying in my pyjamas till 4pm and napping in the middle of the day feels less appropriate than it did 15 months ago.

We had a couple of good nights earlier in the week but daytime naps were then the issue. He either refused to go down without a fight or only slept for a short time. I was worried, and still am a little, that this was going to be the end of naps during the day. Thankfully, by exhausting him in the mornings, I got the naps back to normal but the last two nights he's had me up half a dozen times! I have a mental checklist I go through each time he gets up: dummy, nappy, temperature, position in the bed; and if all of those are fine, I leave him to it. But I still have to get up and check far too often every night! I can't wait for D to get back on Tuesday and take over for a night or two.

On the upside, when he is awake during the day, J is a lot of fun to be around. And the poor sleep hasn't affected his sense of humour or sweetness, as much as it's affected mine. I think a combination of four new teeth and separation anxiety are the culprits behind the disrupted sleep this week, but if this carries on much longer I may need to resort to drugging one or both of us to restore some form of sanity to the household...

The Days of Our Lives

I was speaking to someone recently and she asked me if I was still blogging regularly. She said that she initially thought the project was a little ambitious and had wondered to herself if anyone's life can really be "that interesting." With that in mind, today's post is dedicated to the minutiae of my life (which is apparently what this blog is all about), and you can be the judges of whether or not it's at all interesting!

Monday
J woke at 5 again this morning. We're not sure what's suddenly changed but this new routine is not working out for us at all!  I spoke to my friend K about this yesterday and she told me that she gets her boys up at 6, gives them a bottle and puts them straight back to bed. They then get up somewhere between 7.30 and 9 for breakfast. This sounded pretty good to me so I decided to give it a try. J loved the early bottle but would not go back to sleep. We battled for an hour before he crashed but he was up again by 7.30. He passed out around 10 and missed playgroup so I had to take him out in the afternoon. We went to see the triplets but after the early start and only one nap, J was a very grumpy boy indeed. He was in bed by 6.30 and I wasn't far behind him. I think tomorrow we'll go back to what we were doing; ignoring him till 6.30, or until he started shouting at us to come and get him up.

Tuesday
The day started for us at 3.30am. This did not bode well. J woke up crying and couldn't be consoled. We gave him another bottle, and had flashbacks to the days when we were up at that hour every night. In the end I got into the cot with him, an exercise in bendy gymnastics, and rubbed his back till he finally fell asleep around 5. D got up to him at 7 and I got a sleep in, a rare treat but well earned! Our helper was off today so while J napped this morning I tidied up, baked a cake, vacuumed and still had time for a shower! Definitely feeling like supermum today. We missed playgroup again but went to the playground in Mui Wo, which J just loves. He chased another little boy around and came home filthy and exhausted. I was pretty wrecked too but had to leave the boys at home and head to Discovery Bay for the 2nd half of a CPR/First Aid course I've been doing. I did a proper first aid certification several years ago but I never renewed it. I always thought I'd know what to do in an emergency, but if a child was involved I'd probably end up flapping my arms about shouting "help, help!" This course was invaluable, and the procedures for CPR have been simplified so much since I last took the course, now anyone can do it, and should. My helper also did the course and we both agree it was invaluable. I just pray we never have to use our new skills. I came home and watched my little guy sleeping for a while before heading to bed.

Wednesday
I remember reading somewhere that if a baby is habitually waking every night at the same time you should wake them an hour earlier to reset their body clocks. Well, J woke this morning at 6.30, so even though it wasn't intentional, I think yesterday's early start probably did just that. Today we realised that our little man is officially a walker. He still wobbles quite a bit and crawls when he wants to get somewhere quickly but he's walking all the time. He went from taking a few steps here and there to walking across the room so quickly, it almost happened overnight. We filmed him walking towards me, with the biggest, proudest grin on his face and emailed it to the grandparents. We spent most of the day today organising our upcoming trip to Sydney. We fly out on the 1st and it feels like we still have so much to do. There are so many people we want to catch up with, and so many family members who want to see us. It always feels like we spend our time trying to please everyone and we end up disappointing someone. I'm trying not to let it worry me, but I can't help feeling like it'd be easier just to stay home...

Thursday
Another relatively uneventful day. I have been working on an article for Playtimes magazine, and I finished my first draft today. It still needs a lot of work but I'm very pleased with my efforts, and even more impressed that I finished a draft 6 weeks before the deadline! We took J out shopping today. He's still at an age where a trip to the supermarket and a ride in a shopping trolley counts as an outing. We decided to have some lunch while we were out but it wasn't quite the leisurely seaside meal we used to have once upon a time. J was a bit cranky and restless, he hates sitting still, but once we started feeding him from our plates he was quite content. He played with a drinking straw for about 15 minutes and we ended up having a lovely time. He has started to reject lumps and chunks in his food so we're back to purees this week. At the same time he'll eat anything we're eating. Last night he had spaghetti and tuna off D's plate. I'm not sure he could eat a whole meal of it but we're going to start trying more grown-up food when we're away. D went off to work tonight and he'll be in LA till Sunday night. I had to trim his moustache before he left, it's getting a bit unruly now. He's growing for Movember and has raised quite a bit of money. I don't think he had any idea what he was getting himself into when he drunkenly declared at the rugby that he was going to grow a mo for the month, but I'm very proud of him for following through!

Friday
The little man woke early again today but it meant that he had an early nap, so we finally made it to playgroup. When we got home I spent some time rearranging the furniture in his room, something I've been wanting to do since we moved in. I was sick and had a newborn baby when we moved so everything was done for me. We had a huge wardrobe in J's room and D laid out the furniture differently to how I would've done it. It's always bothered me and this week I was determined to rectify it (while my husband was away and couldn't argue with me). I think it's important that little people have their own space. I hated that we used J's room to store our crap, and I felt like he deserved better. So with our helper by my side, I put things right, and I'm so happy with how the room looks now. By 2pm J and I were both pretty tired so we had an afternoon nap. J's favourite game at the moment is hiding things under the sofa or behind the curtains. He hides something and holds his hands up and makes a sound that we know means "where is it?" Tonight while he was eating his dinner he was repeating 'daddadadadad' over and over, then he stopped, looked at me, held up his hands and said "where is he?" It's only been in the last month or so that J has started to notice that his dad goes away. He gets very excited when Daddy comes home (as do I), and I'm starting to wonder how long it will be before we gets tantrums when Daddy leaves...

Saturday
J slept last night from 7pm-6am, and I took that as a sign that he also loves his new room. We're on our own for the whole weekend so we took the dog for a walk and while J had his morning nap I did the dishes and tidied up. I don't mind being on my own now, and it's definitely manageable, but it does make it harder to achieve anything. We went out to Tung Chung, something I hate doing on the weekend but couldn't avoid. We went to Taste and J was quite happy until we got to the  checkout. Of course there were about a million people in the queue and I had to try a few different tricks to avoid a complete meltdown. In the end I pulled the straw off a juice box and he played with that till we were done. Unfortunately I realised at the checkout that I had had a mummy-brain moment the day before and hadn't noticed. I had been at Park N' Shop on Friday (yes, we do go to the supermarket an awful lot!) and paid with my card to get cash out. Only, they didn't give me my cash and I didn't notice. So after Tung Chung we made a quick trip to Mui Wo where I explained my dilemma and the helpful staff at Park N' Shop corrected their mistake. Thank goodness they were helpful, I don't know how I would've explained to my husband that I left $500 at the supermarket! After that a coffee and a quiet afternoon were in order. I also weighed myself today and the scales (might be broken) showed that I had hit a 10 year low, so I celebrated with pizza and chocolate for dinner.

Sunday
J didn't have the best night's sleep last night so we both woke up at 6am feeling pretty shabby. After breakfast I ran upstairs to get my glasses so we could go out for a walk and "had a fall" on the way back down. It was the kind of fall that knocks the wind out of you and breaks hips in older people, and the only thing that stopped me from bursting into tears was J standing at the bottom of the stairs with a look that was equal parts concern and impatience. I brushed off my bruised ego (and elbow and bum) and we went out. Still feeling pretty rotten I decided that there was only one thing to do when we got home; put on Christmas carols and kick off Pudding Sunday. But that's another story...

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.

Things that go Bump in the Night

Our little guy doesn't crawl yet. From about 6 months of age he's much preferred to walk holding on to someone's hands. Despite reading a lot of negative reports about baby walkers we had to get one to save our backs and he loves it. We keep it downstairs and there's nowhere that he can trip or fall out of it so we feel confident that he's quite safe. He has full scope to chase the dog from one side of the living room to the other with a mischievous glint in his eye, and he lets us know he wants to go out by heading straight for the door. We were worried a few weeks ago that he wasn't crawling so we kept him out of the walker for a week. It didn't make any difference; he was just very cranky!

In the last week or so he's finally started showing signs that he might be crawling soon, and he is much more mobile. He's pulling himself up on furniture, and as soon as he's standing he gets a great big grin on his face, as if he's so very proud of himself. His latest manoeuvre is to transition from sitting to all fours by leaning forward (usually to grab something he's not supposed to) quickly followed by collapsing onto his belly. It's painful, but wickedly amusing, to watch him get so close to a crawl only to fail at the last hurdle. We're starting to realise how unsafe our house actually is as J lunges for cords and pulls things off shelves. We made an emergency purchase of stair gates, door closers, cord shorteners and corner cushions on Kiddicare.com this week so hopefully this time next week the place will be a little more baby-proof.

Our biggest worry, safety-wise, was the cot and we lowered it as soon as we realised J could use the bars to pull himself to standing. We've been a bit lazy to this point and have not been in the habit of raising the side gate. So late last night when we heard a loud crash coming from J's room we both instantly thought he'd fallen out of the cot and ran in there quicker than you can say "slack parents!" J was safely curled up asleep; all he'd done was kick the side of the cot, but my heart was palpitating for about an hour afterwards. The irony is, last night was the first night this week that J was feeling better and slept well...

I know as he gets older and able to get into more mischief we'll have to think of new ways to keep the house safe, but for now we're going to start by raising the side of the bed, every single night.

Thanks again for all the support this week, especially to the friends who offered to take my calls in the middle of the night; it's very much appreciated. We all got sick in the end and we're desperately hoping that we can harden up and avoid catching every little bug J brings home.  See you next week x

I'm No Dummy!

For the purposes of this post I'm going to refer to dummies, also known to some of you as soothers or pacifiers. A conversation with my helper this week got me thinking about our dependence on a very small but necessary piece of rubber, and whether or not it's time to wean ourselves off it. J only uses a dummy to go to sleep. I've been very careful about not giving it to him to suck away when he's not tired. In the early days we started using one because he liked to fall asleep during or immediately after a feed and I needed my nipples back. We use a natural rubber dummy that's all one piece, so there's nowhere for germs to hang out. It's also eco-friendly, orthodontic and virtually indestructible. It's quite odd looking and brown, and we get a lot of comments about it. I once left J with friends for a few hours and they had a good laugh about it. They had heard that babies prefer dummies that most resemble their mother's nipples and they imagined that I must have breasts like a big African Mama (could not be further from the truth in case you were wondering!).

We've tried other dummies but J refuses to use any other kind. This is a problem at times because the ones we use are not available everywhere. We have to buy them from our GP's office in Discovery Bay. We had a shortage a couple of months ago and we only had two in the house. One night I was on my own with J and he happened to lose both of them somewhere in his room. I was frantically rummaging through cupboards at 3am while he cried his heart out, trying desperately to find something I could stick in his mouth. In the end my finger was the only thing that soothed him and the next morning I found both dummies tucked up between the mattress and the mosquito net. I also made a trip to DB that day and stocked up. I now keep at least 2 spare in the bedroom.

I had a friend complain one day that her boys would lose them in the night and she'd have to get up to put them back in. I was glad that J wasn't that dependent on his and smiled smugly. Then we went to Australia and he woke every hour and cried until I got up and put the dummy back in. Serves me right, I hear you say. He's now very good at finding it in his cot and putting it back in himself, but I'm beginning to worry that he can't sleep without it.

I have noticed that not many of the local children use them, and I have a few friends who are very anti-dummy. We were advised not to use one until we had breastfeeding sorted out, to avoid "nipple confusion". Within a few days of being born J was on a combination of breast and bottle so I didn't think one more nipple would make any difference, and we didn't have a problem. I've not given it much thought since then, until now. Last week my helper was telling me her niece, who is about 3 weeks older than J, never needed one to sleep. She started talking about how J really likes his, and implied that maybe it was time to let it go. I got quite defensive and made the point that he only has it to sleep so it's not a problem. That was the end of the conversation but I haven't stopped thinking about it. I don't think my son is addicted to his dummy, I think I am. It's so easy to pop it in his mouth when he's a bit tired and cranky, and to be honest I have no idea how I'd go about getting him to sleep without one.

A few months ago while we were checking into a hotel, a family walked in with 3 children aged about 2, 4 and 6, and all 3 of them had dummies in their mouths. I was pretty shocked but I can see how easily it could happen. I'd like to to wean J off his before it becomes too hard but I haven't worked out how. My grandmother likes to tell the now infamous story of how I came to lose my dummy. She hates the things and was looking after me one day when I was about 2 years old. My dummy happened to fall out of my mouth and into the toilet. She very quickly flushed it away and told me the baby fish had it now. I'm told I was pretty satisfied with this response and didn't ask for a dummy again. Perhaps I need to wait until J is old enough to buy a story like that and then try. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the peaceful sleep it brings.

What Does Robin Say?

This is a photo of just some of my pregnancy and parenting books. I knew that there was no such thing as an instruction manual for babies but that didn’t stop me from trying to find one. I bought a few that were recommended by friends and some that sounded like they were going to tell me what I wanted to hear. Others promised happy babies and a full night’s sleep, every night. There are countless books out there selling philosophies for anxious parents to hang their hopes on, and no matter what you believe you will find one that suits your lifestyle. I have friends who swear by attachment parenting and baby-led routines, while others are convinced that strict eat/play/sleep by the clock and controlled crying worked for them. Our problem wasn’t finding a book to meet our needs: it was convincing our child to comply. For the first few months J was a terrible napper. He would nap for 20 minutes at a time most days and would be overtired and overstimulated at the end of the day, leading to a meltdown in the early evening. I read books like The Baby Whisperer Solves All Your Problems (what a promise!) and BabyWise, hoping to find something that would at least give us some guidance. I quickly learned that most of the strategies relied on babies being compliant and willing to lie in their cots, contentedly drifting off to sleep on their own. My baby wasn't like that and I kept finding myself looking for the chapter titled "What to Do When All Else Fails." Others suggested practising good sleeping habits and teaching independence from day one. Of course for this to work a newborn needs to be willing to be taught, and parents need to be committed to making it work. Again, this wasn't going to happen. From his very first night in the big wide world J wanted to be held, and he was very assertive about it. That night my husband slept sitting up in an armchair with J on his chest. Any attempt to lie him down resulted in a screaming fit, and we'd have to start pacing the floor to settle him down all over again. Once we got him home we convinced him to sleep in a moses basket but he needed to be nursed to sleep first. We were doing this several times a day and I was desperate for help, but any book that suggested I let him “cry it out” was instantly put back on the shelf. There were nights when I was on my own and J was colicky and there was absolutely nothing I could do to console him when I had to leave him in his cot and walk away. I fell apart a few times and a short time-out was best for both of us, but I never felt good about it. In the end, after much trial and error, and many sleepless nights, I came up with my own routine based on several different theories and my own intuition. I paid attention to J and followed his lead and together we worked it out. We got through the rough days by letting J nap in our arms, as it seemed to be the only way to get him to sleep for longer than 20 minutes. It was restrictive at times but I got to catch up on watching movies and reading, and it was lovely just passing the time watching him sleep. Eventually we had him self-soothing and now he has 2 decent naps a day, no crying necessary. I don’t want to sound like I know it all and have everything figured out because I don’t, and I question myself every day. I’m not sure how much of our day works out because of what I’ve consciously implemented and how much of it is just pure luck. J still doesn’t sleep through the night and it seems just when we have everything under control he hits a growth spurt and it all changes again. Some days I can’t keep up.

Another issue I have with the how-to books is the way many of them simply made me feel inadequate. They warned of the dangers of indulging my child, and lead me to believe that if I didn’t teach my child to sleep he’d end up sprouting another head or grow up to become a spoiled brat. One book refers to “accidental parenting,” where parents think they’re doing the right thing but they’re really making life difficult for themselves. It’s tough enough being a parent as it is without being told by an “expert” that you’re doing it all wrong! Once I realised my baby was never going to fit the mould these books described I put them away and followed my instincts.

One book I do rely on is Robin Barker’s Baby Love. Robin is an Australian mothercraft guru and her book is the bible for many new parents.  It is so popular that several bookstores were out of stock when I was trying to buy it (Aussie girls, I found it at Big W for $10 less than it was anywhere else!). I could’ve bought the Americanised version in Hong Kong but I didn’t want to be reading terms like Mommy, pacifier and diaper every time we had an issue! Without dictating a regime or criticising parental errors Robin clearly and concisely explains many aspects of a baby’s first year; the problems you might encounter and ways to fix them. 24 hours after bringing our brand new baby boy home from the hospital he was screaming the house down and leaving pink stains in his nappy. “What does Robin say?” I cried anxiously, and sure enough she had an answer, which was later confirmed by our doctor. My milk hadn’t come through and the poor little guy was dehydrated. Robin was my constant companion in those early days while I struggled to build up my supply and mix breastfeeding with formula. We’ve referred to her for everything from teething and nappy rash to weaning and crawling. She has only let me down once and I feel disloyal for admitting it, but no relationship is ever without its faults. Robin believes that teething causes no discomfort and that all the “signs”, like ear pulling, mouthing, and diarrhoea, that people associate with teething, are just old wives tales. My son would beg to differ. His bottom teeth have been threatening to appear for weeks now and one is just coming through as we speak. He has been cranky and clearly in pain, putting everything in his mouth and yes, he has diarrhoea. I hope it’s just coincidence, mainly because I don’t want him to go through all this for every single tooth, but I’d really like for Robin to be right. My instincts also tell me that he is not well, and I’d much rather be proven right and know I can rely on those instead of some book.

A Battle of Wills

I’m still determined to write everyday, but today has been a long day so tonight’s post will be a short one. It’s 8pm and I just came downstairs after checking on J. He has been quite stubborn tonight. He slept late this morning so the whole day was out of sync and by the time he got dinner he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t cranky or complaining but with his little lips firmly closed and his arm waving away the spoon his message was clear. Imagining myself getting up to a starving child in the middle of the night I caved in and fed him two desserts (relax, it was porridge then yoghurt and fruit – I’m not that bad a mother). He had a bath and his bottle and a story then I took him upstairs to bed. This is where the real battle began. He rolled around the cot for a while, calling out every now and then to make sure I was close by. After 15 minutes I went downstairs thinking he must be close to sleep. It was all very quiet upstairs so I crept up, and as soon as he heard me coming he let out his little old man grunt that he makes when he wants attention. It was clear that he wasn’t going to sleep without intervention and his little grunt was his way of letting me know that he wasn’t going down without a fight. I picked him up and he rested his head on my shoulder. His little eyes started to close and he reached up, held onto my neck and let out a very sleepy sigh. He now weighs close to 10 kilos and my arms were aching after a couple of minutes, so when he finally seemed to be drifting off I put him back down in the cot. As soon as he hit the mattress his eyes popped open and he grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go. He even rolled over with it still in his fist, expecting me to go with him. This is his latest “proof of love” test: we have to let him hold our hands while he goes off to sleep. I’m sure there are books that say this kind of sleep “prop” is a bad idea (blah blah blah) but it’s so damn cute I just don’t care.

There are so many precious moments in a child's life that we take for granted and most nights, I admit, I'm in such a hurry to get dinner on or to collapse in a heap on the sofa in front of the TV that I rush through bedtime and don't stop to appreciate just how lucky I am. A sleepy, freshly bathed baby all snug in his pyjamas is a beautiful thing. One day my son will be a pimply, smelly teenager who grunts as he walks through the door, so for now, if he wants to hold my hand, he can hold my hand. Content that his mummy truly loved him he passed out and I freed my finger from his vice-like grip and closed the door. Now I’m not sure who won that one but, like I said: so cute, don’t care. Goodnight x

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Mother Who Hasn't Slept in Months

Yesterday was a bad day. CLP have decided to yet again dig up the footpath outside our house and for the 2nd time this week their jackhammers woke my son. Sunday night had been a rough night sleep-wise and so I was trying to do as the books say and "sleep while the baby sleeps." Well, 20 minutes into our nap and we were woken by drilling so loud the walls were vibrating. Baby J decided naptime was over and I dragged myself out of bed and vowed to try again in the afternoon. The same thing happened! There was a knock on the bedroom door and my husband whispered "are you about to lose it?" By that stage I was sobbing in the wardrobe and called back "I've already lost it!" I think sleep deprivation could be used as a form of torture. It makes people crazy and emotional and disturbingly irrational, well, that's what it's done to me anyway.

Our son started sleeping through the night at 3 months and we thought we had been blessed with a gifted child. A month later we made the mistake of taking him back to Australia where the slight time zone change and different beds had him waking every hour of the night for 4 weeks. It took 2 weeks to get him back to sleeping through when we returned and another month after that we were called home to Melbourne again. We hired a cot this time and stayed in the same place. Still he woke every hour. We got back to Hong Kong and I hoped that sleep wouldn't be far behind. Then a very bad thing happened to some very good people. Our friends put their son to bed one night and he didn't wake up. For a week or two no one in our neighbourhood slept. Torn between grief and anxiety, those of us with children resorted to sleeping on the floor in our babies' rooms or taking them into our beds. Now when my son makes a noise in the night I leap out of bed and check on him. When he doesn't make a noise for a couple of hours I check on him again. It's physically and mentally exhausting! It's not just my worrying keeping me awake, J still doesn't "sleep through". He's now so mobile he spends the night moving from one end of the cot to the other and we often have to go in and help him when he gets stuck with his legs through the bars or his head up against the end of the cot. I'm not sure if anyone told me about this before he was born but talking to people now it seems no one with kids gets a decent night's sleep.

I had this naive notion that the first couple of months would be sleepless but then we'd start solids and it would all fall into place by some miracle. Now I know better. Yesterday when the workmen outside unknowingly woke us up I was so enraged that I wanted to go down there and start throwing things at them. I knew they were just doing their jobs but I was so desperate for sleep that I would've done anything to stop the noise. Not wanting to read about his wife on the front page of the SCMP ("Crazy Gweilo Woman Halts Vital Electrical Works") my husband gave me a set of ear plugs and promised to keep watch last night, I still woke up every few hours but knowing someone was getting up to J I felt much better. Whatever it is that keeps us up at night, colic, teething, anxiety, bed wetting, there's something reassuring about knowing that we're not alone. And I know there's not a mother out there who would condemn me for teaching the CLP workers the meaning of the term "going postal."