A baby that is tired but resists sleep can be a nightmare. When they scream and scream in sheer temper, there is little that you can do except keep your own in check, and sometimes that can be very difficult. Matilda's mother was hard work as a child and undiagnosed asthma probably had a lot to do with it, but getting her to sleep was so difficult and the experience very stressful.
Matilda woke up last night whilst we were babysitting and as usual I bow down to experience and let the expert deal with the situation. It began with a whimper, but soon the looming tempest was unleashed and she let rip with everything she had. I turned off the monitor and found Fawlty Towers on Netflix. I Watched Waldorf Salad, and she was still at it, then the Gourmet Night and there were still no signs of her giving up. Whilst pondering the next choice, probably Basil the Rat, she was brought downstairs by a grandma at the end of her rope, and so I stepped in and sat her on my lap. Gourmet night was coming to a close and she watched it intently, snuggling in to granddad and chuckling along with the canned laughter. At least the crying had stopped and she seemed happy enough. There was no sign of her sleeping and so I took her back upstairs, imagining that keeping her snuggled in a dark room would do the trick. I sat in the easy chair and lay her on my chest and she happily lay on me breathing gently. We stayed like that for what seemed a long time, and I foolishly imagine that she was drifting off. It struck me at that point they I could probably not get up from the chair. It is hard enough without a human being on your chest, and was resigning myself to remaining trapped until her mother came home, when her head popped up and she decided that she wanted to play. She explored my face, tried to remove my glasses and chattered away while I resisted the temptation to laugh. She pointed to the bottle of milk, drank a good helping of that, burped, farted loudly and then pointed to her cot. So I obliged and gently placed her into her bed. Of course she has her cuddly toys there and she could grab them and throw them around whilst exploring every syllable of her embryonic vocabulary. So I knelt by the side of her cot and stroked her, hoping that my touch was still there. She quietened and lay still, but then the front door opened and she heard her mothers voice. She climbed to her feet, held onto the cot rail and was jumping up and down shouting YES!
At least our stint was over. I wonder how long it took her to sleep?
Matilda woke up last night whilst we were babysitting and as usual I bow down to experience and let the expert deal with the situation. It began with a whimper, but soon the looming tempest was unleashed and she let rip with everything she had. I turned off the monitor and found Fawlty Towers on Netflix. I Watched Waldorf Salad, and she was still at it, then the Gourmet Night and there were still no signs of her giving up. Whilst pondering the next choice, probably Basil the Rat, she was brought downstairs by a grandma at the end of her rope, and so I stepped in and sat her on my lap. Gourmet night was coming to a close and she watched it intently, snuggling in to granddad and chuckling along with the canned laughter. At least the crying had stopped and she seemed happy enough. There was no sign of her sleeping and so I took her back upstairs, imagining that keeping her snuggled in a dark room would do the trick. I sat in the easy chair and lay her on my chest and she happily lay on me breathing gently. We stayed like that for what seemed a long time, and I foolishly imagine that she was drifting off. It struck me at that point they I could probably not get up from the chair. It is hard enough without a human being on your chest, and was resigning myself to remaining trapped until her mother came home, when her head popped up and she decided that she wanted to play. She explored my face, tried to remove my glasses and chattered away while I resisted the temptation to laugh. She pointed to the bottle of milk, drank a good helping of that, burped, farted loudly and then pointed to her cot. So I obliged and gently placed her into her bed. Of course she has her cuddly toys there and she could grab them and throw them around whilst exploring every syllable of her embryonic vocabulary. So I knelt by the side of her cot and stroked her, hoping that my touch was still there. She quietened and lay still, but then the front door opened and she heard her mothers voice. She climbed to her feet, held onto the cot rail and was jumping up and down shouting YES!
At least our stint was over. I wonder how long it took her to sleep?
1 comment:
That made me laugh x
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