I have certain expectations of myself. Of things I want to achieve in a day. If a day goes by and I haven’t been able to contribute to one of my two big projects (sort out the house and find work), then I put down the day as a write off.
There are so many things that I want to do, so many plans to bring in a bit of money, and it’s so, so frustrating not to be able to immediately get to work.
I have one and a half hours per day, when Arlo sleeps, if he sleeps that long. More often than not, I find myself using this precious time elsewhere. Like trying to locate and restore the 500 files that Arlo put into the recycle bin and I accidentally deleted.
I’m quite impulsive, and if an idea pops into my head, I want to be able to put it into action with no delay. Sam is the same way. The other day, he came home from work and had a million things to do (get changed, start dinner, bath Arlo) but he put it all on hold to sort something out on the computer. Recently, when we came back from Tesco, arms laden with shopping to put away, all three of us starving hungry, he decided that the whole house needed cleaning right there and then.
But we’ve had to learn and accept that it is not possible to be that impulsive with Arlo around. Like it or not, things have to wait. And I don’t like it, it makes me feel stuck.
Perhaps my expectations are too high, the reason that I feel so disappointed when I don’t achieve daily goals.
Or perhaps I need to step it up and work all hours of the night. But I’m already sacrificing part of my night to Arlo, I don’t know that I can afford to lose more.
Tiredness affects my motivation. Some days it’s an effort to hold a conversation. I am really ready to start having a proper night’s sleep.
I have worries about Arlo. About his demanding tendencies. They are probably nothing, but they niggle away in the back of my mind.
Why do you always wake up crying?
Why do you constantly pull at your ears?
Why are you still not walking?
Why is it not enough for me to be with you in the same room, you need me to be holding you?
Why do you hate any form of group activity when we go to playgroups?
Why do you never watch the person leading the groups?
Why can I not do anything around the house without you crying and clinging to my legs?
When I voice these fears I get answers I don’t want to hear. ‘It’s probably because you are still breastfeeding him’. I want to do the best by Arlo and his particularly needy needs. And I really don’t think that ceasing breastfeeding is the answer. Especially not when he’s clearly not ready to give it up.
Sam thinks I should stop feeding him on demand during the day. That maybe that is the solution to his demanding night-time ways. I think that night-time is a different beast altogether.
Last night, I fed Arlo at 12.30, he was back in his cot at around 1.15, and then 30 minutes later he was up again. We tried to settle him without milk, we tried for two hours, but he wouldn’t give up. I cuddled him, told him ‘no milk’, but he just got more and more hysterical. When I held him, he pinched my boobs. I don’t know what I can do to make us both happy.
I need more time in the day, more sleep, and to actually get somewhere with my plans.
I’m constantly juggling. Constantly thinking that I should be doing more to better my situation. Concentrating on one thing means I neglect the other things. And if something has got to give, it isn’t going to be my son.