So I love my son dearly. Let’s just get that straight.

But he’s currently being rocked by Daddy after about 45 mins of listening to him grizzle. Not cry, just grizzle, and stop, and start, and stop again, and start again (after a just-long-enough-for-mum-to-get-her-hopes-up-pause) and make it so I can’t enjoy my Friday night pizza or the movie I was straining to hear over the noise.

Sigh. Poor me.

Not sure if any other mums out there have trouble enjoying their food while the baby is crying, but I really struggle to concentrate on anything else while he’s whinging. I know, ignore the monitor and all that jazz, but I’m constantly listening for that change in pitch, the squealy screech that means, “I’m serious now; I’m dying without you, Mum!” which is my cue to leap into action (or boss Daddy around so he leaps into action, one of the two..)

Sometimes people will be trying to continue a conversation with me, and while outwardly I feel the need to continue nodding and do my best to at least follow the train of thought, my thoughts have long since abandoned the conversation and I am willing my little man back to sleep, judging the pitch, listening for the squeal, watching the monitor to see if the little decibel metre goes into the red.. and I feel like saying, “Can you shush? Can’t you hear my kid crying? I need to listen!!” Even if the main thing I’m thinking while I listen is that I should let him cry it out if he’s not too serious, I should turn the monitor off, I shouldn’t be so ridiculous about it.. But it doesn’t work. Most times I remove myself from the company and go and sit on my bed to listen until he either needs me or falls back asleep.

Aaand……. you’re thinking, What a mum, right? What a caring, kind mum who puts her kid first! Lol.

Actually, I’m the kind of mum who thinks, ‘oh well, he’ll learn,’ when he plonks over from sitting to prone on the floor. When he’s sucking on a wooden spoon and he’s got the handle so far down his throat he’s gagging, I think, ‘Well, I guess if it gets too uncomfortable, he’ll stop.’ When he is waving a toy around and conking himself on the head on every pass, I figure, ‘He’ll work it out sooner or later.’ And when Daddy is doing 600 Aeroplane rides, I figure Daddy will finally work out it was too much without Mummy telling him so if he gets spewed on (in all fairness, I have told him many times before).

But this listening when he cries thing, it’s like a compulsion. I just can’t seem to get round it, or rationalise it away. It’s a tug on the old heartstrings, with a healthy side of mother’s guilt thrown in. It’s knowing that if I go in there, that little face will light up at the sight of me, and I can stop that unhappiness. And while right now, I just want to watch my movie and eat pizza in peace, I also want to rush in to my little boy’s room, pick him up, and cuddle him off to sleep (the sleep expert’s no-no).

Sigh. Conundrum. Motherhood seems to be full of these ridiculous tensions.

And a whole lot of listening….

Oh well. Repeat after me: I’m Doing the Best I Can 🙂

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