Enjoy These Moments

It is 10pm on a school night and both of my kids are currently awake and crying because they’re “not tired” and “it’s still light outside” and I would like to bottle this feeling up so whenever someone tells me to “enjoy these moments, they go by so quickly” instead of awkwardly acquiescing, I can use it to instantly summon my rage and shut that shit down.

I love my kids with every fibre of my being but I need them to stop making noises at me and go to sleep. Hashtag: too blessed to be stressed *cry face emoji* (help)

 

IMG_0777.JPG

Sleep is for the weak

We had the very best kind of day today, full of family and friends who feels like family, sunshine, good food, gorgeous scenery, road trip snacks, great music, ice cream, swimming, and more. It was the kind of day where you expect (and hope) your kids will fall asleep by 7 because they’re exhausted, but then they stay up until after 11 because they’re so wired from maximum fun. I am simultaneously happy and tired is what I’m saying.  

IMG_0634.JPG

Conquering Teething Pain and Getting More Sleep with Boiron

Poppy is not what you would call a "good sleeper." That term is so inapplicable to her that I can't even type the whole sentence with a straight face. Poppy is hilarious and loving and engaging and a thousand other fabulous things, but a good sleeper she is not.

I know that babies aren't designed to sleep for long stretches of time. They have tiny tummies that need filling and emotions that need soothing. I don't expect to put Poppy down at 7pm, say "peace out!" and not see her again until 7am. I did, however, expect that by 10 months old our sleep situation wouldn't be quite so tenuous.

Last week as I ran Grady to his classroom (because we missed his teacher) (because we missed the bell), clutching a howling, pyjama-clad Poppy to my chest, sprinting up the stairs to try to make it to his classroom before the second bell so he wouldn't have to go to the office for a late slip, I passed one of the other kindergarten moms. This mom always seems so calm when I see her at pickup and drop off; I have never seen her sprint; I have never seen her pyjamas. (Three things no one at Grady's school can say about me.) She gave me a kind smile and as I ran past she called, "it gets better!"

Her kindness and her message stuck with me. Does it get better? Or can I make it better? Or, maybe more accurately when dealing with a honey badger baby, how can I try to make it better? How can we get more sleep so our days don't feel like unmanageable chaos as we run from one thing to another, always arriving late and dishevelled?

The answer for us, in our current sleep-deprived state, is Boiron. Poppy's already fragile sleep situation was becoming more and more fragmented with her teething pain. Boiron Camilia is a  homeopathic medicine that relieves the symptoms of teething.

boiron_hillarywith2Ls
Developed specifically for babies and toddlers ages 1 to 30 months, Camilia is made with sterile water and contains no sugar, no colouring and no preservatives. Camilia relieves pain, restlessness, irritability and diarrhea due to teething.
— boiron.ca

Poppy's teething pain is always worse at bedtime when she doesn't have her big brother or her toys to distract her. Her peevishness and inability to settle, combined with our anxiety about how little sleep we're getting, made evenings in our house miserable. Camilia helps Poppy settle down to sleep because we're relieving her discomfort before it becomes rage-inducing pain. As soon as I see Poppy's signals (rosy cheeks, drool trail down her chin, chewing her fist) I give her a dose of Camilia and it quickly soothes her.

I trust Boiron to provide safe, homeopathic remedies for my family (we've used their Children's Coryzalia on Grady's colds for years). Boiron was founded in France in 1932 and has been established in Canada for 25 years. Their website provides a wealth of information on different homeopathic remedies and an extensive FAQ section. They also provide a transparent glimpse at their manufacturing process for curious minds. The Boiron Group is a global leader in homeopathy because of their steadfast commitment to research and development and they're a hero in our household because now we're all getting more sleep.

This post is part of the WildCreativeCo.com and Boiron Canada #BoironBaby sponsored program. I received compensation as a thank you for my participation. This post reflects my personal opinion about the information provided by the sponsors.

Not Comfortable

He touches his nose to mine (he's recently discovered Eskimo kisses) and I'm instantly awake. We left the blind open a crack last night so we could get some fresh air from the open window and now there's a ray of 6am sun shining through. I convince him to crawl into my bed for a cuddle to delay the inevitable but it's pointless. He's all gangly legs and whispered questions and four-year-old energy. There will be no more sleep.

I've reached the end of the third trimester. My comfortable bed is no longer comfortable. I go to bed early to try to catch up on sleep but I can't settle. My joints scream in protest from the extra weight I'm carrying and my mouth fills with stomach acid if I dare to ditch one of my four pillows and lie lower than a 45-degree angle. I'm caught in the ridiculous cycle of "drink enough water so that I don't get dehydrated and end up with painful Braxton Hicks, but not enough water that I need to get up to pee four times every night" and I'm losing. Rolling over requires deep concentration and momentum and a hope and a prayer. The end of the third trimester is a privilege I don't take lightly. But it is not comfortable.

My eyes are gritty and I try to keep them closed as I shovel coffee grounds into the espresso pot. I turn the stove on and lean against the counter to try to catch three minutes of sleep while the coffee brews. I wake up to a burning smell and realize I forgot to screw the filter and seal onto the pot and instead of filling with beautiful, delicious espresso it's filling with burnt coffee grounds that shoot up from the spout and spark impressively. I shut off the burner and decide the stove isn't safe in my current state. No latte is worth burning down the kitchen.

Everything feels a bit difficult right now. I'm simultaneously wishing it would be over immediately and trying to hold onto every minute because this is the last time I'll ever be this pregnant. It's a weird place to be. A not comfortable place to be.