A (real) day with a toddler – regressions, tantrums and giving in.
Image by @pernilleteisbaek
Today started with a shrill scream followed by a series of Mammmaaaaa’s. It’s 1am. I drag myself out of bed, and into my son’s room where he is sitting up in tears with his dummy still intact – darn, if only it was as simple as sticking the dummy back in. Many cuddles, bum pats, lullabies and one dead arm later… laying on the floor holding his hand through the cot will do that, and he’s FINALLY back to sleep. You see, as I write this, I’m smack bang in the middle (well I hope I’m halfway done?) of the dreaded, 18-month regression but alas, the show must go on.
I recall a conversation I had with a chatty mum a few months ago at the park. She asked, ‘How’s his sleep?” And I smugly replied, “He’s actually pretty good now!” To which she said, “Don’t be surprised if that changes once the 18-month regression comes around.” I stupidly thought I was exempt from this… after all, we had just started getting a full nights rest, it would seem unfair to rip the pillow right out from under our well-rested heads, right? Wrong.
It’s now 4:30am (yes, still AM), and now we’re up for good. Today, my husband kindly got up with him for an hour or so, so I could steal a few more Zzzzs. Like most parents, we’re doing the juggle, running a business from home, parenting, and desperately trying to squeeze in some self-care for good measure. Danny (said, husband), wakes me up, I curse a little before getting out of bed. He’s off to the gym and I’m on breakfast duty – right now Freddie’s off toast aka the most simple thing to cook so oats it is.
With Freddie on my hip, munching on a banana. Nope, not a banana, now it’s blueberries, nope not keen on blueberries today even though he devoured a punnet yesterday – okay the $7 raspberries, it is – I make him oats with cinnamon, chia seeds, almond milk (yes he’s another one of those dairy allergy kids), honey and a spoonful of almond butter. I now know if I have any hope of getting any nutrients into him it has to be before the snacks and (dairy-free) chocolate bribes begin. He not so patiently waits for his breakfast to cool, screaming, grabbing, fussing, as I plonk him in the highchair, read; wrestle him into the highchair, turn on Peppa Pig, hand over the oats, take a deep breathe and make myself a coffee in peace... for at least a good 30 seconds before I turn around and he’s standing in his high chair and I have a low key panic attack while scooping him up, stripping him out of his Bonds onesie and baby wiping us, the floor, the walls, and the dog.
Most days we’re out the door by 9am, for a walk to a park, or a drive to the park/ insert any other outdoors destination that he can run wild, and hopefully tire himself out so he has a successful lunchtime nap (anything past 30 mins is a win for us). Some days I struggle with the monotony of it all, then I have these golden days where I think, this is what it’s all about – how privileged I am to spend my days with my boy and spend my nights working (which doesn’t sound fun but I mean the make-my-own-hours part!).
Getting out the door with a toddler is as chaotic. I still haven’t figured it out. So for now I let him play with the toilet roll, literally, it’s all over the floor, I give him some of my make up brushes, his toothbrush, anything to keep him occupied so I can look somewhat alive. Lucky for me, Bluey comes on and he rushes out to dance to the music and I finish filling in my brows. Done.
Off to the park and he’s doing this thing where he will sit on my lap and scream if I try to move. 20 minutes pass, he’s finally warmed up and is now dragging me around the park. I’ve spilt coffee all down the front of myself. Did I mention it's only 9:30am?
He’s now down for a nap, which feels like a clock is ticking, so I quickly make myself lunch, put on a load of washing, make a third coffee and open my laptop to at least reply to a few emails for Dear Dilate (my current creative outlet) and write a to-do list for tonight. I get halfway through my coffee and he’s awake – with a scream, of course. I shut my laptop, and now we are cuddling on the lounge watching The Gruffalo. He loves a post-nap snuggle and I do too. I hug him with my entire body and kiss his cherub cheeks while he says “more, more, more”. This moment is pure bliss.
I wish I could say that the afternoon is filled with craft, but I’m not a crafty mum. Or an organised mum. So the afternoon is filled with a walk by the ocean to the playground in our local mall, before stocking up on groceries. This trip requires lots and lots and lots of snacks (bribes). At one point he threw a tantrum so massive, he made me show my best hand – I surrendered and opened the Pana chocolate I was saving for wine time later on.
The day is almost done and although I’m still new at this mum game, I’ve learnt to pick my battles – he eats dinner in front of the tv, I let him drag me around the park, I give into bribes, he jumps in puddles, stands in the bath (anxiety levels at an all-time high), he takes a dummy and I rock him until he’s sound asleep. The days are long, my body is sore but right now this is us, and I wouldn’t change a thing… except the 4am wake-ups.
Words By Jade Fox.
@jaderachelefox
Image by @pernilleteisbaek