We’ve been having some difficulties with the whole sleep thing. As usual. So while I was lying in bed this morning – trying to induce some semblance of nap time – with my boob being perpetually snuggled, sucked and flailed at, I had a few thoughts:
1. Babies are scarily stupid for this brief period of time between 6 months and . . . whenever they learn the cause and effect principles of bodily harm. For example: If I climb up the rungs of this chair and then suddenly decide to switch directions and let go: I will impale my face on said rung of chair – resulting in screaming and black eyes. Or, if I climb on top of the slate fireplace and then try and climb off said slate fireplace, I will most likely smash my face into the floor – resulting in screaming and black eyes. Every ten minutes in this house is now punctuated with screaming and black eyes as Elsa learns how to navigate various household obstacles.
Desperately searching for a sharp corner or electrical socket.
Which leads me to another thought: What I would like most in the world is to wrap Elsa entirely in a thick protective foam suit, hold her in my arms and smother her with kisses and warmth and love. . . for all time. Or at the very least, I would like to lock her in some sort of enclosed space, devoid of all black-eye-giving obstacles and electrical sockets, and ensure that she is always safe from harm.
Instead, I take a deep breath, stand back, and let her try and pull herself up on the couch. Let her crawl all over the kitchen. Let her wrestle with cabinet doors and dining room chairs and bookshelves. Let her lick every surface in the house (including . . . occasionally . . . the dog . . . pretend I didn’t say that). Let her chew on most things as long as they are not electrical or overtly poisonous. Let her bang her head on pretty much everything in the process of finding new, exciting things to lick. And I will have to continue to let her roam and explore – even though she will probably continue to get hurt.
These big lessons in parenting are all starting earlier than I expected.
Thought #2: I wish I had extendable boobs. I would press a button and my breast would start to elongate until it reached Elsa two feet away in her little bed. I would roll over when I hear her rustling in her crib at night – before the wailing begins – press the button – and my breast would slowly snake it’s way to her. I suppose it would be programmed to recognize her sounds and smell . . . hopefully not snaking over to John and feeding him throughout the night.
I would never again have to leave my bed at night. Not once. Not 8 times, like last night. We would all sleep soundly.
