Joey is a biter.
And last Sunday, after I had been bitten 5 times--including once on each shoulder--I had had it with him. He was crabby and cranky and fussy and just not at all pleasant to be around. Now, we're all allowed be cranky from time to time, and babies more so than the average person. But this had been going on for too long, building up for weeks really. At night, in the back of my head, I admitted to myself, "I'm not sure I even like him anymore."
WOAH! How horrible did I feel then that I could even
consider that I didn't like my own son? It was pretty awful.
So on Monday morning, when crabbiness ensued once more and I tried everything I could think of, I finally just set him in his bed and let him wail his little head off. After a half-hour or so, he mercifully fell asleep--for TWO HOURS!
That's when I dawned on me--I have not been real consistent about making sure that he gets a good nap or two in a day. For the longest time, he was the most easy-going kid and would let me forget that he needed to nap. And so I forgot. And Ugly Baby took over his personality. Now I can see that was clearly my fault, not his.
So all this last week, I've been making sure that he got his nap. Sometimes he falls asleep when I nurse him. Sometimes he doesn't, so I let him cry a little. Regardless, he now naps like a champ--no more of this 20 minutes and I'm awake nonsense. Two solid hours. He's a totally different kid.
I haven't been bit since last Sunday.
He smiles again.
And so do I.
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This is all rather ironic, as I was hyper-vigilant to make sure that Clara got her naps as a baby. OK, I still make sure she lays down for an hour a day. When other people's children would get fussy, I'd often grumble to myself, "put that kid to bed!"
Yet I couldn't see it in my own kid.
Oh, that humble pie . . . it's actually tasting good this time around.
