09 February 2015

Meandering

I'm going to try putting the girls to bed in the same room this weekend. I'm not sure how it'll go, although I suspect very badly, but we're going to give it a shot anyway. Eleanor and I are both light sleepers and having her in our room just isn't working anymore. I've tried every single thing I can think of, taken almost every piece of advice offered, and neither of us are getting much sleep. These last two days, Eleanor has woken up at 5:18am (what the heck, child?) and ends up taking her first nap at 7:30am, before Matt even leaves for work. I wonder if Eleanor would even sleep through the whole night if it wasn't for us waking each other up every time we roll over. (Seriously, two nights ago she woke up when I rolled over and refused to go back to sleep on her own).

I still have to figure out the logistics. (Both kids at the same time? First Eleanor, then sneak in Abigail?) I'm saving it for the weekend so that if Eleanor disrupts everyone's sleep, Abigail doesn't suffer at school and Matt doesn't suffer at work.

Speaking of the child we affectionately call Bottle Rocket, she has begun climbing. She'll be 9 months tomorrow. This is something Abigail didn't do until after she turned three. Eleanor also has amazing grip strength and is capable of moving her wrists in ways Abigail still can't. Eleanor's method of getting out of the chair is to simply sit down. She usually misses the seat.


Abigail, the child we affectionately refer to as, "Chickerpeas," (seriously - if you ask her, "Where is Chickerpeas?" she'll point to herself), is doing fabulously well. She's been making significant improvements in speech, she is doing much better at following directions without me having to physically enforce them, and she can balance on one foot while kicking her other leg. She recently had an uneventful visit to the cardiologist, which is an event by itself. The cardiologists always ask about Abigail's overall development and we were chatting about sign language. "Oh, does she have any words?" the doctor asked me. "Oh, yeah. She'll speak in sentences," I responded. Our personalities clicked and the conversation flowed. A week later when I got a copy of the report the cardiologist sent the pediatrician, it read: "The mother reports that the child can speak in sentences." It sounded so sterile. So demeaning. "The mother reports" - a qualifier in case it is found to be false. "Well, it was the mother who said she could do it." Abigail's whole little life written up in sterile reports with technical language alleging what the child can and can't do.


One day a report will read, "Mother reports that the child can crochet. Mother reports that the child made the scarf she is wearing. Mother reports that she would like us to include in the report that she is proud of the child. Allegedly. Of course."

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Surprisingly, both no. 1 and 2 slept better in the same room together, going down at the same time. They had company! And no.3 doesn't like going to bed alone anymore. They all chat a little bit then drift off to sleep at their own times. You may be surprised with A and E! TB

Cammie Wollner said...

I hope you have luck with them sleeping in the same room. Our two girls definitely sleep much better in the same room (and it's not unusual for them to end up in the same bed together by the end of the night).

Patch is our problem sleeper (quite suddenly) and I am already eagerly looking forward to the day when he and James can share a room (and I hope with the same results!).