Sunday, 15 December 2013

Sleep Comes Later

baby photoshoot

In our case, it normally doesn't come at all. 

The clock by my bedside table says it was barely eight o'clock in the morning when I was woken up from my shallow sleep. It wasn't John's kiss before setting off to work that did it but the wriggling noises that was coming from the cot beside our bed. In a few moments, the cryptic babbles started to get louder they couldn't be ignored. I stretched out of bed in disbelief, it was less than two hours ago since I've last been up after waking almost every hour during the night to feed and soothe a teething baby. I certainly didn't feel ready to start another day. 

I got up to look down on the four-month-old child with a cheeky smile who was very pleased to see me. It wasn't the first time, nor would be the last, that I would gaze at this beautiful creature who once lived inside me, this little piece of heaven on earth, with utter exasperation. And it mostly happens on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when my husband is on a long shift and wouldn't be home until after 7pm, a very long time before I would finally be able to have a bit of a break. 

I know I shouldn't be complaining, for most part of the year after giving birth I am being paid to look after my own child, probably the envy of most mothers. But sometimes going back to work suddenly seem appealing. 

My little boy is lovely, he coos and babbles, laughs at silly faces and loves to bounce on my knees. He loves it too much he doesn't like to be cuddled or sat down and there is only enough strength one can have to constantly carry a growing baby, especially one who refuses to sleep during the day.

So occasionally I let him cry, not for too long but enough to let him know he is not the boss of the house. That gives me some time to go outside and take a deep breath so that when I come back to the room I can give him a smile as I pick him up and try all forms of entertainment. It usually works although to be honest my preferred mode of dealing with a screaming child is to put him in the pram and wheel him out of the house to go to the park, smell some fresh air and listen to the quacking ducks by the pond. That calms him down like magic that by the time we come back he would be fast asleep and I can sit in front of the telly while sipping a warm cup of tea. This moment of quiet doesn't usually last long that often I find myself looking at the ticking clock counting the hours until his father, who has been up on his feet the whole day at work, can take over. 

No one said parenthood was going to be easy, but although we sometimes moan about its challenges, we would still choose it anyway. 

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