Teamwork

1-29-09

The dilemma is as follows.

When Ken and I first had children, we had a routine. With me breast feeding, I was going to need help. We had a great system. When I sat down to feed, Ken always had fluids for me. At night, after the feed, Ken would do the burping and change him. He also had swaddle duties. He figured it was the least he could do being that I was up feeding the baby every couple hours.

As they grew, the teamwork continued. Specifically, nighttime adventures were Ken’s responsibility. Even though he did get them ready for daycare in the mornings, and I had the afternoon and evenings, Ken felt that I should have as much sleep as possible over night due to how early I went in. I know, it sounds like I should never even think of complaining. I mean, there are women out there who would die for that kind of assistance. Then again, not all of them are control freaks and spaz mommies.

When one of the boys wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, Ken jumps up before the WA becomes WAA. He doesn’t want me to hear it, since if I do, it means I am up, and worried. If I hear that one of them has a tummy ache, a bad dream, or is just dealing with the separation anxiety, I am the first to offer up my services. I will sit with him or I will sleep in his room. Whatever it takes. This stems from my previous ability to offer the one thing Ken didn’t have. The boob.

When Dax would get upset in the middle of the night, I was always able to go to him, lift up my shirt and all would be right with the world. It was awesome! Dax would sleep, Ken and Bobby could sleep, and even I could having mastered the art of sleep feeding with Bobby. The whole house was peaceful.

When Dax was 17 months old, the boob somehow lost its appeal. This was not all bad being that he was a big 17 month old. He liked his sippy cups and he was drinking regular milk, so he didn’t need the nutritional factor, or the packaging. By not breast feeding any longer, it also freed me up from leaky boobs, allowed me more than a glass of wine, and I no longer needed to take my Boppy everywhere I went. We were in the land of toddlerhood, and it was working out ok.

But that before bed feeding was my favorite time of the day. It was the time in which I was the sole focus of Dax, and aside from the occasional fussy feed, I knew that it was me that was getting him to sleep through the night. When he was sick, I knew I was the one to comfort him. Now, my secret weapon has been disarmed.

On top of all of that, Ken snips at me when I do try to help. I may not have the boob anymore, but I am still mom, dammit, and they are Mama’s Boys, right? However, it is pretty rude of me to swoop in on the time in which Ken is super dad. When I bring in the glass of chocolate milk and the graham cracker with the bright shinning face at 2 am after he has been battling with the cranky child and had told him no to these treats, I am not helping anyone. Sure, we all get to sleep quicker, but then I make Ken look the fool, and it just means that tomorrow night they will do the same thing knowing I will be in to be the “good” parent. That equals spoiled children, bitter spouse, and sleepless nights all around.

But of course, it isn’t like I can just sleep through the tantrum. Luckily their cries don’t make me ache as they did when they were younger. I still long to comfort them when they are upset. I don’t want Ken to have to go through sleepless night after sleepless night when there is a bad stretch of a cold or maybe a monster outbreak. I also don’t want to get growled at by the cranky husband who isn’t meaning to be a bear, but when you are tired, sometimes you growl at the person trying to help. So this leaves me lying in bed, trying to sleep, but feeling guilty every minute until Ken returns. I am not technically breaking the rules. I mean, I am staying out of this round of parenting. Then again, I am not sleeping, and rest, well, that is up for debate.

My only way to rid myself of guilt is the Saturday morning shift. It is the one morning that I sleep in (I normally get up at 4, so yes, sleeping to 6 is sleeping in), but I also can let Ken sleep longer when the boys come bounding into the bedroom before the sun has even opened its eyes. Even though Ken doesn’t “sleep” the whole time, he can do that debatable resting thing.

My dilemma will probably be with me until they are 18, so I might as well suck it up. Things change so much, but they also stay the same. I know, as they get older, the up all night will change. They will go from this to sleeping late, to being up all night again, but this time out on the town. My worry will never change, and Ken will still insist I get my rest. It will always be something that he will tease me about and I will always insist on staying up with him, waiting for their return. But that is what makes a great team, right?

It also goes without saying that my two boys will still be enchanted by a boob, but I am pretty sure it won’t be mine at that point.