Sleep has been a long haul in my short adventure in parenting and motherhood. And it seems I've stumbled yet again into a developmental challenge. At 2 years old, his patiently taught and acquired ability to go to sleep without either of us in the room has seemed to dissolve. When I attempt to leave he grabs hold of me wherever he can and cries, demanding that I put my head on the pillow and sleep there. With him. In his bed. I actually don't mind sleeping with him, but I don't want to go to bed as early as he does. But, all this protesting ends up in a much later bedtime than he needs or that I intended. Last night I tried a different tactic, I stayed in the room. I waited nearly one and a half hours for him to fall asleep. Exasperated and slightly depressed and stressed, I told him to stay in bed while I sat on the floor. Then I told him to stay in bed while I went to the bathroom and I left the door open. I think he fell asleep while I peed and took out my contacts because it was very quiet when I returned to the hallway and tiptoed into my own room. I flopped onto the bed. Waiting for a child to fall asleep is depleting. Particularly when you want to be somewhere else. Nick came upstairs shortly after and soothed me. I won a long shoulder, foot, and hand massage for my strain. I felt immensely better. Revived. It was in this state that I asked him to do the nighttime routine the next night. I am glad I didn't ask him before the massage gift, I would have hurled into an excess of words and despair at my parenting skills and his lack of support. It was lighter and easier and felt so much better this way. And here we are, the next night, and I am typing all of this out as I listen to the mellowing of storytelling while the light slowly darkens into twilight. And suddenly a burst of crying. Crying for mama.
Why did going to bed suddenly get more difficult? It certainly wasn't smooth, ever, but it's gotten harder, lately. I attributed a lot of it initially to his recent illness. For five days we lived and breathed each other like he was a newborn babe. Always in my arms, being soothed the only way possible from his pain. Going back to the routine as it was before just isn't as simple. So I read some more about bumps in the sleeping rhythm. It seems that two year olds typically experience separation anxiety. And that this manifests often at bedtime. They go out into the world during the day asserting their new found senses of self, demanding, adventuring, feeling like big boys, using their newly expanded language skills to maneuver in play and negotiation. Then, at night, when it's time to go to bed, the vastness of it all seems to overwhelm them and they do not want to be alone. They want to feel safe and soothed. They aren't totally ready to give up their baby self.
Still, somehow, getting to bed and settled towards sleep seems to be smoother with Nick. The lure of mother's milk lingering in his mouth doesn't urge him back into the waking world. It's refreshing. And I am usually at work when Nick does bedtime, so I don't even have to bear witness to any fussing or pleading for me. Though, Nick has gotten more and more creative in his soothing so that Jasper seems to fall asleep quicker. More and more, I think that I need to relinquish all bedtime duties to Nick and give up the bedtime nursing. (As long as the morning call for "teta" doesn't get earlier and earlier.)
So, what am I resisting? The dishes! Really, I am. I don't want to do the dishes. Normally, while I am doing the bedtime routine, Nick is downstairs cleaning up from dinner. I plan the meals and make the food, and I don't like doing dishes. I like to cook. If all nights went like tonight has, it would be ok. Tonight Nick helped me cook and helped me clean up. It was quite perfect actually. I did the bulk of the dishes, but Nick put away the clean ones, wiped the counters and then joined Jasper outside to play. It was one of those nights where transitioning from one tasks to the next was seamless and smooth.
Nick has emerged from Jasper's bedroom and all is quiet. I asked him, "Is he asleep?" He replies, "Nah, but close." He says he has to put out the recycling. A chore I never have to do. It really has been a perfect Wednesday night. And it's not even 8:30pm.
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