Flying Solo

Last updated on: March 16, 2011 at 1:45 am by Tara Edelschick

Flying Solo 2011-03-16T01:45:12-06:00 Tara Edelschick

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I remembered today why we have had housemates ever since Zach was six months old. I remembered just before dawn, when CutiePie woke up hungry. I remembered at 10:30 am, when I was putting CutiePie down for her nap. And I remembered tonight, when we were giving CutiePie a bath.

At o’dark-thirty, she stood up in her pack’n’play, took one look at me, and started wailing. She was ready to get up and she wanted milk. Jeff, who normally takes the dark shift, is out of town. So yesterday, I went to Target, bought a six-pack of Pediasure shakes, and put them next to my bed with some bottles. When CP woke up, I dragged myself to the edge of the bed, cracked open a chemically toxic, sugary beverage and poured it into a bottle. I handed it to her and pretended I was sleeping for the next thirty minutes, until she demanded more attention. I miss Jeff when he is out of town, but never more than in the hours before 8 am.

Then at nap time, she just could not fall asleep. I sleep trained both of my boys in a couple of heartless days, standing across the doorway, barring their weeping father from offering them any comfort. But I can’t do it to a kid who is going to have a really hard time knowing who to trust, given all of the shifts in primary caregiving. So I sat with her, rocked her, patted her, prayed over her, and (to be honest) swore at her in my mind.

I was just so angry that she was ruining my well-laid plans to put her down and join Wendy and the boys for a wonderful morning of dramatic play, using Chapter Two of Two Playful Cubs. Who gets mad at a baby for not falling asleep? Who gets mad a traumatized baby for not falling asleep? I felt like crap.

Then tonight, it took three of us to give CP a bath. If I believed in past lives, I would be convinced that she drown in her last life. She is terrified of the water. But I don’t believe in past lives, and I pray that nothing awful happened to her in the water and that she is just one of those kids for whom bath time is torture time.

Hoping that we could change that connection, I bought a tub set that had a boat, skipper, and ocean animals while I was at Target yesterday. And I put them in her highchair tray with a half-inch of water. She played with them for almost an hour, squealing and splashing and drinking the water as best she could.

Tonight I filled a large craft tub with warm water and her toys. She cried at first, but then had a blast, splashing and laughing like baths were the best things that ever happened to babies. I washed the skipper, saying goofy baby things like Washy, washy. Wash his feet. And then I took the same washcloth and gently touched her feet, saying Washy, washy. Wash CutiePie’s feet. It was hard not to cry for CutiePie, who needed so little to be made to feel safe in this tub.

What was the difference between these three episodes? What allowed me to give myself to CP, patiently, gently, and with great hope during bath time, but not earlier in the day? You guessed it: I had company during bath time. Our Au Pair and one of the teenage girls from our church were there. They provided material support to be sure – getting a towel, running the water while I held CP at the other end of the house (the sound of the bath starts the crying), and holding her up while I did washy, washy. But the bigger support was their presence. I feel like I can hold it together, and even do some pretty great parenting, when I have company.

I don’t get as mad when things don’t go according to plan. I don’t say impatient things to the kids, which then escalate the problem. (Here’s where I should mention that after CP would not sleep and the boys were being, well, being the boys, I lost it and shouted, “You’re going back to school next week. I can’t take it anymore.” To which they started crying and begging, “No, mom, no! Please! We’ll be good. We Promise!” Second time I felt like crap this morning.) I am more fully present and enjoy taking care of the kids more when there are other people around.

How did all of you raise your kids stuck alone in your houses with just you and your spouse, especially if that spouse travels? And wouldn’t it help to have some more adults around for homeschool as well? Mommy is just a better mommy when she’s not flying solo. Am I alone in this?

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