I have always been one for children’s empowerment…I have made my best attempt at making the house feel as much r’s as it is ours, inspired mostly by Montessori principles, and many many ideas from bloggers out there. R. has all her stuff at her reach in her room, pictures at her level, has a kitchen cupboard so that she can get her stuff, her little spaces in almost every room of the house, and ways of adapting the big rooms and heights for her. I also respect as much as I can her timings, her need to do things alone and her way – mainly because chaos ensues as soon as you unthinkingly try to help her. In any case, you get the picture…
One thing, however, that has always been an issue for me was the bed. I could not bring myself to make r. sleep on a floor bed from the start, mainly for my/our benefit. First she slept with us, although she officially had a moses basket, and then, slowly, she started using her cot, a decision we made for different reasons that I won’t go into now. I know it was for my peace of mind mainly – the thought of her falling off the mattress, of her crawling at night and putting her fingers somewhere dangerous, or something falling on her…that kind of thing would keep me awake, at a point where more sleep is all I could think of.
Now she is two and a half, however, that is no longer a choice, since she started using her ‘big girl’s bed’, as she could get out of her cot. And you know, at the moment, I find it is an utter nightmare. Her bedtime, usually around 8, is now around 10.30, with all her coming and goings, because she clocked very early on how lovely it is to get out. …and its driving me nuts.
I hate how this little thing conflicts with the way I try to do all other things, but I also have learnt that coherence is not always possible…but I struggle. So I try to be gentle, and manage timings and routines a bit more tightly, to see if I can move this new development to a shape that does not make me want to scream every night. Unfortunately, this is how it seesm to end up every night. Me, álmost asleep while she keeps chatting and poking me to keep me awake, or me explaining that mummy needs to go now, and that she needs to stay in her bed, in her special room…which lasts about three minutes, at most. In the end, I bring her back all huffing and puffing, at the rhythm of ‘how many times have I told you to GO TO SLEEP’….which ends up making her cry, and me feeling shit, and crying, and her going to sleep two minutes later. So, as you can see I am not getting there.
I am not sure how much this is about feminism and motherhood, but it explains partly why my level of productivity has gone way down – I just can’t face sitting at my desk at 11 at night, and in any case, I need to clean up, organise stuff for the next day, and even talk to my partner. So sorry, and if any of you please can tell me this is a phase, which of course, it has to be, I would be grateful!