A New Year’s Miracle!

Something quite remarkable has happened in the Young-Schwarz household over the past week.  I have not rocked the boys to sleep.  Yep, there is indeed a first time for everything.  Just to be clear on that – for their entire lives, all 20 and a bit months, about 638 days, the boys have been fed, rocked, held, driven or pushed (in a pram!) to sleep.  Little princes living in the lap of luxury? Actually, it was the only thing that worked.

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Probably spent more time asleep in the car than anywhere else. 

Over the Christmas period, we stayed at my mum and dad’s for a few weeks and as generally happens at this time of year, it was pretty hectic.  And somewhere in the midst of all of this, I lost my mind and the boys lost the ability to be rocked to sleep.  One night, I came out of the bedroom with a tired but awake Paddy to be greeted by a much too awake Bede who had decided not to sleep despite mum’s best efforts.  I threw my hands up in exasperation and walked out.  There may have been swear words.  I was completely at the end of my rope and only a cold beer in peace could fix the situation.  And mum.  Who calmly took over the whole operation and put the boys to bed.  Literally.  She put them in their cots.  They grizzled for a bit but nothing extreme.  I wouldn’t even classify it as a scream, just a ‘I am so tired and I don’t even know what I want’ kind of whine.  Before we knew it, it was quiet.  I suggested that mum duck in to make sure they were actually asleep and not unconscious after falling out of bed and sure enough, they were asleep.  What the actual fuck.  Is that all I had to do all along?

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This is me right now. Even better, I got two to sleep. 

Well, I don’t think so.  I certainly couldn’t have done this when they were tiny.  So many people suggested that I read Tizzie Hall’s book – something about Saving Sleep and all the advice from the twin forums was to ‘get them on a schedule’.  Everything I read about baby sleep ‘training’ (and I read a bit!) suggested at some point that they needed to be put in their bed drowsy but awake so that they could learn to put themselves to sleep and sometimes left to cry to sort themselves out (I’m paraphrasing that) but I couldn’t do it because hearing their cries of distress hurt my heart too much. (Incidentally, Pinky McKay was the exception to this and I would encourage anyone and everyone to look her up and have a read of a gentler approach).  And I was, perhaps irrationally, concerned that I was somehow rewiring their brain and that I would forever damage their little souls because I didn’t respond to them.  And then I realised that it is possible to read too much and have too much information and too many opinions so that you actually have even less idea of what you’re doing than you did before you started reading.  I decided I’d just do what I wanted to do, what I could cope with and what ensured the least amount of tears.  As a result, I’ve nearly caught up on season 4 of “Californication”, keep abreast of all the “Real Housewives” (thank goodness for a recording TV!) franchises and read at least a book a month as I’ve held one or two babies while they napped.  But it seems we have reached a turning point, a milestone, a developmental leap…

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Hopefully not getting subliminal advice or influence from Hank Moody in “Californication” 

 

 

I always maintained, even in my most sleep deprived, exhausted and bewildered state that the boys would learn to sleep when they were ready. I reasoned that they had leart to crawl, walk, sit up and ride their little trikes without me teaching them so this too would come.  In time.  And I comforted myself with the fact that in my reading, I came across a suggestion that really smart babies didn’t need as much sleep so of course my boys would be genius’.  Speaking of which, today Paddy was doing a drawing and he told me it was a bird.  He’s only 638 days old (give or take a few) and he’s already creating art…

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