This is what the headline would read on this week’s story of my life.
Maybe minutes after writing the last post questioning Anna on sleep training, a new habit formed in our household. And I am the one losing all the sleep. My two-year-old starts nursing at 2 am. He keeps nursing – switching back and forth between my breasts – for hours. If I sneak out of bed to go to the bathroom, he is enraged. It has happened for a couple of nights now and the lack of sleep is taking me to an ugly place of parenting.
I am pretty confident in what I will do. I plan on night weaning my son so that he is no longer dependent on breast milk at night for comfort and soothing. I will be wearing my extra-large “Hypocrite” shirt to bed for weeks. When we night weaned my daughter, it took two weeks of playing Philip Glass’s Metamorphosis cd over and over while rocking her back and forth.
The only hitch is that we have plans to go on a road trip/camping adventure/wedding party and it is hardly the time for him to be up all night crying wanting alternate forms of comfort. Can you imagine asking the bride and groom to have their first dance to Mr. Glass’s somber piano piece so the little guy could sleep? So I know I have to endure another week and a half until we can proceed with the plan. If we start ten days from now then I have a whopping 240 hour countdown. Oi!
This is a not-so-subtle reminder for me that parenting is never something we fully figure out. It is ever-changing. Brutal and beautiful.
I’m still curious about the motivations parents have for their (and their child’s) sleeping arrangements. I suppose this zombie mama is just a wee bit more empathetic now for why parents make their individual choices.