It's Thursday! Time for another Thankful Thursday guest post!
Today's guest post is by Marie of 1000 Reasons I'm a Crap Mom, who shares her cheeky wit about being a single mom and raising her precious little bit of joy. She tries to weed through all the millions of do's and don'ts of "tips for moms" that clutter the inbox and often wonders, between mom's feedback, the conflicting advice bombarded at her, and her own insecurities, if the blog should be called 2000 reasons. Or 5000!
I am Thankful For A Book About Kangaroos
Thanksgiving approaches, and Americans around the world are thinking about what they are thankful for this year. I am neither American nor living in the US (yet!) but I am thankful for the opportunity to be a guest on Kelly’s blog and I am also very, very thankful for a book about kangaroos.
Kangaroos?
Kangaroos!
My son C has relatives in Australia, and they recently sent a large parcel full of presents for his first birthday. Everything was lovely: the cute t-shirts with smiling crocodiles on VW buses, the koala backpack that is just too cute for words, the beautiful story books for reading at bedtime.
I had no way of imagining that “Mummy’s little bush babies” would make such a difference in our lives.
C is the best and bravest baby who ever was, but he is prone to night terrors. I do not wish those upon anyone, not even the guy who invented high heels. The night terrors are terrors indeed: in the middle of the night, for no reason I can discern, C suddenly starts screeching as if his limbs were being torn off. He is inconsolable, and anything I do to try to comfort him only makes things worse: if I hold him he cries harder, if I back off he cries harder, if I try to move him to a safe position he cries harder, if he as much as touches the headboard with his head he cries harder. He slaps me off if I try to hug or pat him, violently rejects any offer of a bottle, and generally seems to suffer a LOT until suddenly a switch goes off and he crashes back into sleep.
During this whole ordeal (which has taken as long as an hour sometimes) C’s eyes are either shut or open but vacant. And by the end of it, my eyes are usually full of tears.
It is brutal. Brutal.
(And now everything will make sense!)
About a week ago C got such a bad case of the terrors that I ended up conceding defeat and accepting our amazing babysitter Adi’s help after an hour of battle. His screams had become so loud he actually woke her up. At 4 am.
She was as much at sea as I was: singing didn’t help, cuddling was not going to happen, and the bottle was slapped off as if it were cyanide. I must admit I am such a sewer rat that I was secretly somewhat pleased about Adi’s lack of success. The love triangle between mom, baby and sitter is a complicated one.
At her wit’s end, Adi started randomly showing things to C, hoping to distract him: “Look, sweetheart! Your ball!” More wailing. “Here’s your truck, do you want your truck?” Louder wailing. “What about your empty bottle! You love your empty bottle!” The bottle flew across the room. “Oh look! Your kangaroo book!”
The crying stopped.
Adi and I held our breath.
C stretched a tentative hand towards the book, turned a page, and smiled. He turned another page, looked up from the book, and smiled at us through the tears and the snot and the drool. My boy was back!
(The hostages were free! The bomb had been defused! The plane had landed safely! The world was safe! This must be what Bruce Willis feels like all the time.)
This midnight rescue would be enough to make me have that kangaroo book gold-plated and encrusted with diamonds, but there is more: ever since that night, if C’s terrors get intractable I show him the book and read it to him. And it helps him calm down every time.
Last year, I was grateful for my perfect baby boy, the beauteous C, who is to this day the best and bravest baby who ever was.
This year, I am infinitely thankful for a kangaroo book.
Now I just need help deciding – should I have the book dipped in white or yellow gold?
