Night wakings

It's 3:45 a.m. as I'm writing this. I'm listening to my son yowl in the next room. He's actually alternately dozing off and then yowling "MAMA" and I can't go in to him. It's a killer. At least he's still in his bed. It took 16 times putting him back in before he'd stay. We've been at this since 2:45. Awesome.

My son doesn't know what hit him. Poor little tyke. He's been running this house for . . . well, for about 23 months. And he can't figure out why I'm not in there nursing him. Because I've been an idiot for 15 months. This won't cure the 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. waking. That's a whole different creature. But this will set some boundaries.

Did I mention we've done this before? Repeatedly? I'm trying to sound optimistic about this . . .

But while I listen to him wailing and depriving everyone in the house (including himself) of sleep, I want to focus on something that makes him a cuddly wonderful Buddy Bear. Every evening now, I sing him at least the opening verses of "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes (set to music by Loreena McKennit). He nurses while I sing. This relationship has lasted much longer than it did with Ellie, who was done by 14 months and never looked back. But this little guy is definitely a mama's boy (hence "MAMA!" coming from the next room every few minutes -- it's a mixed blessing) and he loves mama time. So when I sing, I come to the verse, "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart," and he always unlatches and kisses my chest. It is the sweetest, most beautiful little boy kiss. And it makes these long, long nights less miserable to think about it.