I hate admitting this, but …
It might be happening.
I might be caving.
MIGHT!
Regular readers are all VERY AWARE of Baby Boy’s atrocious sleep habits — still up three (sometimes four) times a night, and he is *gulp* almost nine months old.
Because he’s a cloth-diapered babe, I do need to change him once or twice during the night. Otherwise he wakes up in a wet sleeper — and sometimes with a puddle on the mattress. Poor soggy guy.
And so … yes … part of me is wondering if the reason he wakes up so frequently in the night — at an age where it seems ALL THE OTHER BABIES IN THE WORLD OMIGOD are sleeping through the night — is …
… the cloth diapers.
It kills me to say that. I love-love-love our cloth diapers. I just can’t quit them, to quote that movie I never did get around to seeing. But I am thinking that maybe … maybe … I need to switch to disposables only at night?
I have tried hard to make this nighttime situation work. I’ve double-stuffed them (mmm, Double Stuff Oreos). I’ve tried different kinds. They just don’t hold as much pee as disposables, according to, well, everyone on the damn internet.
Lovely bloggy crushes like Leah and Melissa also cloth-diaper, and then use disposables only at night. They admitted that cloth just doesn’t cut it overnight, and settled on a solution that worked.
I think it is my (extreme) stubbornness that is holding back. I am the one who insisted cloth-diapering was the sh-t (pardon the pun).
I am the one who had PLENTY of skepticism from the peanut gallery family members when I said I wanted to cloth-diaper.
I am the one who STILL will tell anyone who will listen how much I love our fluffy, adorable little diapers.
I walk down the baby aisle at Wal-Mart and sneak peeks at the Pampers — simultaneously scowling at the idea of paying for diapers and feeling a twinge hopeful that maybe they are the key to me getting more than two or three hours of sleep in a row.
So I hate admitting it … but yes, I sort of am. Without saying it. You know what I mean. It’s possible that I might need to make a change in the diaper department, strictly at night — you’d still have to claw those cute printed cloth diapers from my cold, dead hands during the day.
The question is, will I cave? …
Will I start using disposable diapers at night?Market Research
How to enjoy a meal out in a restaurant … with your baby
- Pack lots of supplies. I usually bring several bibs and several spoons, because some of them always wind up on the floor. Before you leave the house, wet a couple of baby facecloths and store them in a baggie. You’ll need to clean off their face and hands, and it’s nicer than using a baby wipe. BUT make sure to also bring a bunch of baby wipes, as well, for cleaning off the restaurant table, highchair tray, etc.
- Pack changing essentials in a small case. I hate walking through a crowded restaurant with the bulky diaper bag and a wiggling baby. And sometimes restaurant washrooms are small! So I only take a small case to the bathroom that contains one diaper, some wipes, a changing pad, and a wetbag (for the dirty diaper).
- Choose your restaurant carefully. Darling Husband and I are slowly compiling a list of places we feel comfortable bringing Baby Boy. We sometimes scope them out first alone, on a date night, so we can be sure it’s the kind of place babies are welcomed (at least not shunned). We know we could technically bring him to most places, but we’d feel awkward bringing him somewhere too quiet or formal. We look for places with “good” highchairs (ones with trays and safe straps), and places where they have kid menus.
- Time it well. I laughed when my good friend Lindsey over at like a hamster on a wheel blogged about going out with her husband and baby at a hilariously early hour (and being the youngest person in the restaurant by 30 years). But it’s true! When Darling Husband and I go out for dinner, we are all ready to go the second Baby Boy wakes up from his afternoon nap (usually around 4 or 4:30 p.m.). We change him, dress up, and jump straight into the car (with his dinner in tow). This ensures we can be out for a couple of hours while he’s in a good mood. I’d rather eat dinner at 5 p.m. with a happy baby than eat dinner at 7 p.m. with a screaming baby.
- Gauge the baby’s mood. Sometimes Darling Husband and I feel like going to a certain restaurant, but realize that Baby Boy is just not having a good enough day for it. If his patience seems short, we’ve been out running errands and don’t have that much time left before his next nap, we’ll choose a quickie restaurant instead — so we can get in and get out before he melts down. We’ll save the nicer restaurant for a day when he’s fresh up from a nap and we have enough time for it.
- Bring on the food. I usually bring double the amount of baby food that Baby Boy usually eats, so that he has a variety (and it keeps him busier for longer). I bring foods I can spoon-feed him (like purees, applesauce, yogurt), and tidy foods he can feed himself (baby crackers, puffs, Cheerios). This is not the time to give him sloppy buttered noodles and other mess-making finger foods. I don’t want him to be coated in glop by the end of the meal — we’re in public!
- Be ready with the beverages. I always bring a sippy-cup of water and a big bottle of breast milk. I let him sip the water during his meal, and at the end — when he starts entering cranky territory — I hand over the bottle. Even if he’s full, he’ll suck on it and look around the room, momentarily calm.
- Don’t forget an emergency treat. I always hold back one “secret weapon” food to give Baby Boy during that crucial moment when he’s finished his dinner, is bored of his bottle, is starting to fuss, and Darling Husband and I are still eating. My secret weapon food is a semi-thawed frozen watermelon rind. He absolutely loves them, and they keep him quiet for a while.
- Cheque, please! Who has time for dessert? Not people dining with a baby. When we’ve eaten our last bites of dinner, and the server comes to clear our plates, we immediately ask for the cheque. Baby Boy is usually doing OK at this point, but starting to show signs of impending crankiness. Asking for the cheque leads to waiting for the cheque, and then tracking down the server to pay the cheque — you’re not home-free yet. We have it down to a science, where Darling Husband pays and I get the baby packed up and into his coat, boots, etc. The mission? Get to the car before he starts to fuss.
- Don’t be “that” family. You know — the family who leaves Cheerios all over the floor, a gloppy high chair, and general chaos caused by their baby. I was a waitress the summer before university, so I totally sympathize with servers who have to clean up disgusting tables. So I always wipe down Baby Boy’s high chair when he’s done, pick up any food he’s dropped, and pile the food/used wipes onto our empty plates for easy clean-up. Your server will thank you for it!
The heart of the matter
When I was pregnant and found out I was having a boy, mothers of boys told me, “You’ll love it. Boys are great.”
And me? Well, I’d wanted a girl. I was terrified of having a boy. I just nodded and smiled and hoped I wouldn’t be bashed in the head with a Tonka truck.
I had no idea what I was in for … or rather what I wasn’t in for!
I just finished reading Emily Giffin’s Heart of the Matter — I love all her books, and this one was awesome as always — and I had a total revelation.
The main character had a four-year-old girl and a two-year-old boy. The girl was described as really loud and bossy and sassy — and generally difficult. The boy was described as sweet and cuddly and friendly — and generally “easy.”
As I read the book, I found myself totally identifying with the behavior of the sweet little boy, and actually kind of irritated with this brash little girl. And kind of … nervous … about maybe having one someday.
Can you believe it? Me, the person who supposedly needed to have a little girl? Maybe it’s that I like being the only girl in the house? I don’t know. I definitely don’t like the idea of a little girl trying to boss me around. Baby Boy and Darling Husband are happy to let me call the shots!
Reading this book just cemented the fact that I really, really love having a little boy. I know you can’t say that all little boys are sweet and easygoing and love their mamas — just like all little girls aren’t opinionated, bossy little divas — but I am really starting to understand what people mean when they say “boys are easier.” When they say “boys are great.” When they say boys “have less drama.”
Boys are great. Mine is, at least. He is sweetness and light. He is all cuddles and sloppy kisses and big, squeezy hugs. He is easygoing and playful and sensitive. He likes things I don’t understand — like watching snowplows — but instead of that bothering me (like I always figured it would), I find myself trying to get interested along with him. It is very easy to make him happy. Easy to make him smile and laugh.
I hope someday I get to have a daughter, too, so I can see both sides firsthand. But for now? I am very happy with my sweet, “easy” and “drama-free” little man.
And if a friend tells me she is pregnant with a boy? My first words after “Congratulations!” will be “Boys are great!”
The best 99 cents I ever spent …
Exhibit A: Arctic Gardens Rice and Vegetables (on sale for 99 cents)
Obsessed
You would THINK that since I blogged yesterday about Baby Boy behaving in public, that he’d actually prove me wrong and be a total angel.
But no.
Last night’s family gathering was … trying. Baby Boy had a too-short afternoon nap, which left him in a very unpleasant mood. He cried. He pouted. He protested when family members held him. He was in a clingy mood, and just wanted me.
Flattering, yes, but mostly embarrassing. They all wanted to hold him! And he wanted none of it. I know babies can’t be “rude,” exactly, but … what is the baby version of rude? ‘Cause he was that.
So I had to hold him for most of the evening. Which made things like EATING very difficult. Not to mention socializing in general, when you have a baby glued to your face (he likes pressing his cheek against my cheek and then just … staying like that).
I know he needs to be less of a Mama’s Boy (although you know I love that, of course), but I don’t know how to do it. We spend practically every minute together, due to Darling Husband’s crazy work schedule.
When Darling Husband is around, I make a point to escape to the bath or go out by myself, so Baby Boy can spend quality time with his Da. But it’s just not enough time to make him less … Mommy-obsessed dependent on me.
Although, to be fair, I am just as obsessed with him. Being with a person (especially a little, squishy person) basically nonstop, every single day, makes you obsessed with them.
I think we need an intervention.
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Heather's Handmade Life 