Week 43 – Continuations of Stress

Things seem to be ticking along with some form of progression down in our little house in England. I say progression, it doesn’t currently feel like we’re going anywhere even though I know we most definitely are.
First thing’s first: he’s still not sleeping well. You know he’s going through “a phase”? Well screw that phase, right in its developmental face. Because it just hasn’t visibly or observably helped our little champion in any way other than letting him simply be awake during the night. I cannot convey just how disheartening it is that we’ve had to continuously resort to using the god damned pram to get him to sleep when he’s got a perfectly good cot next to him that he abjectly refuses like a drunk teenage girl at her sixteenth birthday party.
’I’M NOT GOING TO BED! I’M NOT DRUNK! THIS SONG IS ALL ABOUT ME!’
The best I manage, given his current state of refusing everything to do with me during bedtime, has been to dance him around for 50 minutes before he finally passes out, allowing me to sit down and rest my back. Little monster that he is. One time, he got so unconscious as I held him that I realised the baby was deep sleeping. I watched his little eyes go through REM and I’ve got to say…it’s creepy as fuck. Really unnerving to watch his eyes open and close and twitch, even though he’s asleep, and I’m going to put my hand up and admit that I’m not a fan. It’s only when he yawns that I remember there’s a wonderful little dribbly human buried underneath those chubby demon cheeks.
But it’s nice to sit on our sofa as a family, with the dog curled up between us and our son blacked out in my arms. Very nice feeling as a dad, to see what we’ve built over the years.
However, the fact that he’s fluctuating between sleeping relatively well one night and essentially staying up to see the stars and keeping us on the verge of complete psychological breakdown is difficult. Anybody out there with the same problem will relate, because this shit is super hard. He’s got such a damned comfy bed and we’re such lovely parents!
Why does he hate us and the nice things we buy for him?!
There’s a definite light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, but it ain’t half hard to see it with this train of a sleepless baby in the way.