Operation Golden Slumber, part deux: Mommy breaks the vicious cycle
Last night was the first night where Isaac and I deviated from our sacred nighttime routine, completely sacrosanct to us for over 3 months now. Our beloved routine is very simple, and it starts at 5:30, when we get ready to go on our evening stroll. At around 6:30, we are finished with our evening stroll, and then it is time to gently scour the dirt off the baby in his ducky tub. Bathtime is not very long for us, but it is a time of song, where I serenade my beautiful nekked guy with two tunes. The first song is invariant; it is "I've Got To Be Clean" by an 'alternative' band called Guster. I discovered this song on a CD given me by a friend of mine, who's baby is now a whole year old, and I loved this song so much that I ran to iTunes and downloaded a whole Guster album. Here is the first verse to "I've Got to Be Clean":
We wash our hands whenever we eat
And in the bath we wash our ears, our elbows and feet
We gotta be clean
We gotta be clean
It's healthy and keen
We gotta be clean
I thought these guys must be the greatest band in the world, but I was so, so very wrong, and I blew like $10 on their dumb album at iTunes. But they are still cool with me because they wrote this awesome song that I sing to my baby everyday. It's sung in a low, boy register, so in the beginning I have to sing baritone, and EVERY TIME I do this, Isaac becomes completely captivated. At first I thought this was because of the low voice, but now I think he realizes the opening lines of this song mean bathtime for him, so his eyes grow to dinnerplate-size and he flashes me a big toothless grin and starts kicking his feet around in the water.
Our second song is one chosen by me; usually one that is caught between my ears at the time. Lately our second song has been "LOVE" by Nat King Cole (I thought it was appropriate as it involves spelling, you know, " 'L' is for the way you look at me, 'O' is for the only one I see...."), but Isaac has also enjoyed Mom's barrel-chested voice belting out "Ring of Fire", or "The Right Stuff" from the old-school New Kids on the Block. After our bath comes our full-body massage, replete with the latest in moisturizing technology. Then Isaac gets dressed in his jammies, and we go into Mom and Dad's room to say goodnight to Dad, who is usually working at the computer. By then it is 7 or 7:30, and it is time to go downstairs for the bedtime boobie. Isaac cannot withstand the bedtime-boobie tranquilizer, and he invariably falls asleep while nursing. When he was first born, my in-laws accused me of slipping narcotics in my breastmilk.
And this, THIS we suspect is the problem. The lulling power of the bedtime boobie is so strong that even hunger cannot prevail -- Isaac nips, but he does not eat enough at the bedtime boobie to last him throughout the night. So of course he wakes up a few hours later in his crib, 1) upset to find that he is no longer asleep in mom's arms, and 2) starving because he didn't actually utilize the nutritive power of the boobie when he had the chance earlier.
Last night, I strove to slightly invert our routine to overcome the vicious boobie cycle. First walk, then BOOB, THEN bath. He, of course, tried to fall asleep while nursing, but Dad whooped and hollered and convinced Isaac that it was playtime instead. This caught his attention, enabling him to remain conscious enough for a bath. After the bath, Isaac and Dad were playing around in Isaac's room and having a grand old time, so grand that I was convinced that now we had a boy on our hands who would be up till midnight. I picked Isaac up and rocked him back and forth and sang a little sleepy-song. Isaac pushed against my shoulder, squirmed, squeaked, and generally showed more of an interest in playing than with calming down. So I sat down in the glider and rocked back and forth with him on my shoulder, still singing our sleepy song. He persisted in his mommy-wrestling. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I laid him down, wide awake, in his crib, told him I loved him, wished him a good night, and left the room. I decided to sit just outside his door for the inevitable crying onslaught that would surely be coming. This is what I got: "AAH-ooooo. Mah-goooooo." Silence. Less than 30 seconds after I left the room, my little munchkin put himself to sleep. And slept for eight whole hours. Because I rule.
We wash our hands whenever we eat
And in the bath we wash our ears, our elbows and feet
We gotta be clean
We gotta be clean
It's healthy and keen
We gotta be clean
I thought these guys must be the greatest band in the world, but I was so, so very wrong, and I blew like $10 on their dumb album at iTunes. But they are still cool with me because they wrote this awesome song that I sing to my baby everyday. It's sung in a low, boy register, so in the beginning I have to sing baritone, and EVERY TIME I do this, Isaac becomes completely captivated. At first I thought this was because of the low voice, but now I think he realizes the opening lines of this song mean bathtime for him, so his eyes grow to dinnerplate-size and he flashes me a big toothless grin and starts kicking his feet around in the water.
Our second song is one chosen by me; usually one that is caught between my ears at the time. Lately our second song has been "LOVE" by Nat King Cole (I thought it was appropriate as it involves spelling, you know, " 'L' is for the way you look at me, 'O' is for the only one I see...."), but Isaac has also enjoyed Mom's barrel-chested voice belting out "Ring of Fire", or "The Right Stuff" from the old-school New Kids on the Block. After our bath comes our full-body massage, replete with the latest in moisturizing technology. Then Isaac gets dressed in his jammies, and we go into Mom and Dad's room to say goodnight to Dad, who is usually working at the computer. By then it is 7 or 7:30, and it is time to go downstairs for the bedtime boobie. Isaac cannot withstand the bedtime-boobie tranquilizer, and he invariably falls asleep while nursing. When he was first born, my in-laws accused me of slipping narcotics in my breastmilk.
And this, THIS we suspect is the problem. The lulling power of the bedtime boobie is so strong that even hunger cannot prevail -- Isaac nips, but he does not eat enough at the bedtime boobie to last him throughout the night. So of course he wakes up a few hours later in his crib, 1) upset to find that he is no longer asleep in mom's arms, and 2) starving because he didn't actually utilize the nutritive power of the boobie when he had the chance earlier.
Last night, I strove to slightly invert our routine to overcome the vicious boobie cycle. First walk, then BOOB, THEN bath. He, of course, tried to fall asleep while nursing, but Dad whooped and hollered and convinced Isaac that it was playtime instead. This caught his attention, enabling him to remain conscious enough for a bath. After the bath, Isaac and Dad were playing around in Isaac's room and having a grand old time, so grand that I was convinced that now we had a boy on our hands who would be up till midnight. I picked Isaac up and rocked him back and forth and sang a little sleepy-song. Isaac pushed against my shoulder, squirmed, squeaked, and generally showed more of an interest in playing than with calming down. So I sat down in the glider and rocked back and forth with him on my shoulder, still singing our sleepy song. He persisted in his mommy-wrestling. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I laid him down, wide awake, in his crib, told him I loved him, wished him a good night, and left the room. I decided to sit just outside his door for the inevitable crying onslaught that would surely be coming. This is what I got: "AAH-ooooo. Mah-goooooo." Silence. Less than 30 seconds after I left the room, my little munchkin put himself to sleep. And slept for eight whole hours. Because I rule.
posted by Claire at 9:11 PM
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