Ah, there’s a loaded word when it comes to parenting. Prior to producing people, it could only have positive connotations of beautiful slumber following a day (or night!) of life.
Now, it’s not such a pleasant thought or experience.
And this time I’m not talking about the baby.
At 17-months-old, TJ is (mostly) sleeping through the night. Aside from one problem. He wakes at around 5am for a cry. It’s short-lived, doesn’t require assistance, seemingly for no real reason and yet it’s primary function seems to be to wake me up.
This has become such a regular occurrence that I wake up at that time, whether TJ does or not. It also happens even if I am not at home, as I’ve been painfully reminded when I’ve had a night off and stayed with friends.
That little sod of a body clock ensures my day starts bright and early anyway … and continues to wake me up every 30 minutes until TJ is ready to start the day/I finally concede defeat in getting more shut-eye and get up out of lovely, lovely bed.
I know I am lucky that TJ is sleeping well at night. I know that I am also lucky that he doesn’t seem much interested in getting up before 7am. I also know that I could (possibly) remove this issue if I switched off the baby monitor and did some sleep training of my own.
But I won’t. I love feeling like the little man is right with me by having a black and white version on that screen on my bedside table. I also still feel a duty to keep an eye on him or listen out for if he needs me for anything overnight.
So I’ll just hope that the 5am wake up calls make a hasty retreat soon – and that hopefully they are not replaced by an even earlier call to action.