“No bears.” If you have been around my son at any point within the past month+, this is a familiar phrase. “Mama, no bears.” “No Jman, there are no bears.” And then he goes about his merry way. What the hell?
J is an early-riser. Has been since day one. Husband and I have a pretty good routine that I’ve mentioned before: I do night duty (no matter how many times, I’m up with J in the night) and Husband does morning duty. Good. Fine. It works.
In the wee hours of the morning, I used to be able to hear J saying “chase you” as he and Daddy would run around downstairs saying “rawr” with their hands in the air. Very playful, very innocent.
Then one day, J started saying “no bears.” He didn’t want anyone to act like a bear. He didn’t want to act like a bear. However, he has bear stuffed animals, and those are okay.
Weeks went by and we were baffled as to why the sudden fear/hatred/angst towards bears. Then….it all came to light…
At school (aka daycare), the teachers and toddlers would play “Going on a Bear Hunt.” This has been loved by all toddlers…but apparently, my toddler, and many toddlers in his class are not fans. School plays a lot of music and anytime the teachers head to the CD player, J is right there with “no bears.”
Yes J, you are right….there are no bears. And, thanks to Grampy, they’ve been thrown in the woods.
When we lived in Hampden, A drew a picture. At the time, J-man wasn’t around/thought-of. She drew our house, a tree, Husband, me, and herself. Husband was drawn wearing a baseball hat and holding a mug of coffee. I was drawn smiling wide, holding a glass of wine.
At that moment, I realized I probably shouldn’t be having a glass of wine after work often enough that would influence her to draw me holding a wine glass. Since then, Husband and I don’t drink too much in front of the kids (not that we drink a lot anyways). So, depending on how rough the day is, the wine/beer waits until after the kids go to bed.
Fast forward to today (well, not literally today)….but we still hold this same notion. I’m glad we’ve stuck with it….because A was very much aware of things going on around her and we only have her part-time. J notices EVERYTHING. Each morning, he helps Husband make “mama coffee.” He watches as Husband changes the little k-cup, pushes the button, and as the coffee fills the mug and steam comes bellowing out.
So, to keep on our commitment of not drinking in front of the kiddos…on those particularly trying days, the wine goes in the coffee mug. Yes, J, that is “mama coffee.”
I’m determined that in the next family drawing, I will be holding a coffee mug along with daddy!
When I say that out loud, it reminds of that rapper guy….the bald one….who sang, “I’m not a player, I just crush a lot.” Ha! I don’t even know what that means…
Anyway….where has the time gone? J is 20-months old!?!?! Seriously. I feel as though I have just been in this fog and time is passing by while I am standing still. Everything around me is growing, shifting, changing, adapting, and I am just watching it happen. Since we’ve last spoken (and please, it’s me…not you), I have had my contract re-upped at my job (yay!), Jude is walking/talking/running and is so stinking smart, and A is continuing to grow like a weed and like her brother (or her brother being like her) is so stinking smart.
So…back to the title. I did not grow up in a religious household. Yes, we held hands and did some sort of prayer/thanks at the dinner table, but that was pretty much it. Never went to church on Sundays. Sundays were meant for family, friends, and doing homework or housework that was needed. And that’s the way that it has always been. This is not to say that I don’t believe in something “higher” or more divine…it just hasn’t been a focus of my life. I try, and therefore try to instill in my kids, to live life being the best people they can be and loving themselves and others wholly. In my opinion, that’s pretty damn good.
However, as you may know from earlier posts, J hasn’t been the best sleeper. Maybe this is payback? I had the BEST pregnancy and labor/delivery. So maybe this is just karma’s way at getting back at me. And what makes it even more of a stab is that I love sleep so very, VERY much.
We’ve tried everything. By “we,” I mean me. Husband and I have a great system. I get up with the Jman in the night (no matter how many times) and Husband gets up with him for the day when J decides that 4 a.m. is time to party (which is every day). This works really well (for me) on the RARE occasions that J sleeps through the night. But those times are few and far between. It’s not horrible…most times it’s just a snuggle, a pat on the butt, finding the binkie, and he’s out. But other times…it’s excruciating.
Like over the past few nights, for example. This is when the praying comes into place. J has some sort of cold or allergy thing going on where he starts coughing in the night….so bad that it wakes him up. And each time that I get him back to sleep, I pray that he will be able to get some rest and sleep through the rest of the night. Yes, I have his intentions in mind….I want him to be rested. He is such a happy and loving little boy and sleep helps keep him that way. But, I also pray in a selfish way. I really want to sleep. I want to sleep for me. Because I am a really happy and loving mom when I get sleep. Does this make me horrible?
Then I kick myself for thinking this way. So, I’m trying to shift my thinking….these days are not going to last forever. I think of it as he needs my comfort in the night. He likes knowing that no matter what, I will always be there and will always come when he calls. And, against what all the “experts” say, I still rock him to sleep every night. I’ve stopped caring. I love those times…when his body gets heavy and his breathing gets deep as he lays against me. And although the nights seem really long right now, he is not going to be want to be rocked forever. And he’s not going to call out for me in the night forever. Any of you have littles that enjoy your company at all hours of the night? How do you cope?