Day 457: Back ON Track
Tentatively. We are tentatively back on track. With Blaze.
He's currently sleeping in his crib.. on his own; I don't know if I needed to make that distinction, but I didn't want you to go ahead and start visualizing a very pregnant Jeannette shoehorned in there with him, though I wouldn't put it past her given how she's handling all this. Jeannette doesn't have an easy time hearing him cry you see; this is a good quality in a mom, and a woman, heck, a human, if you ask me, but when you're a parent... well it's got to be within reason.
Currently he has her wrapped around his little finger and the line has to be drawn! Well... re-drawn. And no doubt drawn again down the road when the pencil lead gets washed away in both he and Jeannette's crocodile tears. He's been living the good life, getting to cuddle with mom all night while dear old dad sleeps on his own, in a big cold bed, full of mother flipping ticks. No more!
It had to stop.
Last night was my boiling point, as it turns out. It was very similar to the time I got fed up with him sleeping with us, the two of them startling each other awake every five minutes, and in turn ME! and got up and dragged his crib into his room at 3am one long wintry night. It wasn't as dramatic as all that this time around, not nearly as late into the night, but it was nonetheless a sea change in how things go around here.
He's been very whiney you see. Too whiney. Whiney even for an eight month old. He has a hard time playing on his own or soothing himself this kid. It's not his fault of course, I blame the first time parents operating on a classic trial and error strategy of parenting, which is all first time parenting strategies, no matter how many books you read, or cheesy 80's lamas instructional videos you watch as the infant cries and the glass all around you shatters.
Tonight we gave him a bath, fed him a bottle, and put him to bed. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, Seacrest Out! That was at precisely 8:20pm on the button, and I know this because Jeannette marked the time, eager to measure the length of her own suffering as we then sat on the couch and watched a Dateline'esque closed captioned video via monitor of his protestations in the empty baby room. To say he was not having it is an understatement. He screamed and wailed and kicked and thrashed and threw himself against the side of the crib... well, fell against it, but I like to exaggerate at times for effect. He was displeased with the cold turkey shock to the system and tired as I know he was, having been tugging at his ears and rubbing at his eyes a good half hour before putting him down, he simply wouldn't settle.
We waited a full 17 minutes. He had settled at that point, finally, but had perched himself against the wall of the crib and was waking himself up every twenty seconds when his head dropped to the side as he slipped into unconsciousness. Up against the bed as he was he looked a lot like a drunk waiting for a cab outside a bar, leaned up against the wall of the alley mumbling angrily about all the women who threw drinks in his face.
The attempt at sorting him out was met with instant shriekage. It was as though he'd been merely waiting for me, playing possum until I made just such a mistake and opened the door to try to set him right. I stand by the decision, precariously perched as he was, so that any sudden movement would have him crashing backwards against the wood of the crib. Nevertheless, the interruption set him off again and I was played out of the room by the overwhelming shrieks of a resilient demon spawn.
In all he fought it for an hour. Jeannette did better than I thought she would, though I think she secretly considered stabbing me before rescuing him from his loneliness and stealing off into the night. She resisted the urge however, and is now sitting next to me on the couch, cursing the internet connection for constantly interrupting our Netflix show, while eating sunflower seeds like a bird. I haven't heard a thank you yet.. but I have no doubt she'll drop me one before bed, freeing her as I did from the shackles of a clingy baby!
This will be for the best. I can now determine the distinct cries of a baby to at least the degree that I can tell between pain and annoyance. I shit you not, if I were to go up in that room, pick him up, and throw him up in the air, or give him a zerbert on the belly, he'd have a big shit eating grin on his face in no time, pleased in the knowledge that his dominance over the behavioural patterns of his parents remains fixed and firmly in place. Well tonight the warden took back control of the prison and the rules are once again in effect.
At least until next week when we drive to Ottawa for two weeks and all the progress we make in the next few days gets thrown under the bus once again.. why bother? This kid will be sleeping with his mom until he's 17 and this scraggly beard of mine -the one Jeannette has been trying to bargain off my face for a while now- will be down past my ankles and full of sparrow nests.
In other news my other wood guy came by on his motorcycle tonight to check out the lot and see what he can do for me on Saturday. He's bringing his tractor up and will be dragging the trees out of the yard and piling them up out in the driveway to be cut and split and stacked. It's a big job and going away as we are my guess is we'll have trees laying on our lot for a while yet. I'm hoping to at least get it cleaned up by the winter, I think that's a doable goal given all the other work and events I have coming up.
Tomorrow we're going pseudo camping with one of my cousins for the first time. I say pseudo camping because we're only going for the day and not staying over night, even though the late night campfire is the best part of camping. This was Jeannette's decision in the end. Pregnant as she is, with her guttural disgust of all things bug and insect related, she decided that we'll go up for the day. That way she can kick the tires of the camper, test out the mattress she would be sleeping on if we weren't a couple of West Hollywood dandies, and see what it's all about. My hope is that she'll fall in love with it and we'll spend many summers to come out in the middle of the woods with little more than ourselves, our kids, perhaps a guitar, and as always, a trusty can of zombie repellant.
Blaze is stirring. This is going to be a long night.