I know myself fairly well. I know that, if I don’t get myself on a routine, I will waste away these days by cruising mindlessly through the internet and watching whatever bland show is on TV. I don’t want to do that though. I have plans on what my routine should be, what I want to accomplish each day. They are minor things, like doing the laundry and the dishes, reading, doing something creative, things like that.
Who know who doesn’t care about their daddy’s haphazard plans? Cranky Baby Abigail, that’s who.
Yesterday was not a great day to be a baby in this home. Abigail decided that sleep was for other babies, and she was going to wiggle and squirm every time her eyes closed. Today has been better, but her most comfortable position isn’t laying down, or hanging out in her swing. No, her most comfortable position is laying face down on my chest. After yesterday, I’ll take whatever sleep she’ll getting.
Faceplanted baby is much more preferable than cranky baby though. She was fine yesterday morning, but as the day went on and she fell further behind her sleep debt, it became a vicious cycle. Sleep for 20 minutes, wake up angry, cry and scream, eat a small amount, go back to sleep. Such a schedule makes it hard to do, well, anything except the basic necessities.
I knew that going in. It was tempting to think of being at home as being essentially “free” time, even though I knew that wasn’t going to be the case. It was tempting to think that keeping a routine would be easy. That she was going to sleep at certain times, eat at certain times, get a diaper change at certain times.
For that most part that’s not too off base. Looking at the past few weeks, Abigail usually eats at about the same time, and sleeps for a decent chunk afterwards. But then a day like yesterday happens, when, for whatever reason, she is Cranky Baby. And working with that to do some of what I want is going to take some practice.