You’ll have noticed the deafening silence around bookandbed heights over the last week. It’s been a challenging one. So much so, we haven’t done anything all that booky. I don’t think we’re done much at all actually but wring our hands in despair.
I’ve been sick, the Monkey is teething and all three of us are gripped by prolonged sleeplessness. My hands – the barometer of the impact of prolonged exhaustion upon my person – are turning to paper before my eyes. So exhausted are we, that I’m ashamed to say we ended up at the hospital on Friday having accidentally administered a double dose of branded paracetemol to our child.
If I break with the self-obsession, though, it is really all about the Monkey and what she is going through. She is barely eating or drinking and she’s certainly not sleeping anything more than fretfully. It was 2pm yesterday afternoon before she used her potty and I was convinced we would be heading back to hospital if she didn’t resume drinking something shortly afterwards. It’s not too surprising then that her temper is murderous and one minute she’s demanding something, the next it’s been launched into the air, or worse. During one of her periods of wakefullness last night, screaming and crying for me to come to her, I got there, soothed her a little and found her lost dummy. (She doesn’t really use a dummy any more, but for the molars it’s back in service for her to chew on.) I went back to bed, but heard her propel herself from her bed, run screaming along the hallway and into the living room, where she threw the dummy, before running back to bed, all in the dark. She’s been hitting, kicking, shouting, stamping and throwing things. It’s all quite depressing, really. There have been tears and gnashing of teeth and lots of “why can’t I even do THIS?” But, even through the fog of exhaustion and uselessness, even I know that every parent feels this. The knowledge doesn’t make it any easier when trying to achieve something basic and essential to survival, like eating and sleeping, is a battleground, however temporary that might be.
I don’t need to be told that this is behaviour that really can’t be condoned, but it’s a difficult path to know how far to go with a child who really is in ongoing pain. That said, about 80% of our free time is taken up with this sort of stuff with occasional bursts of book-reading. As if all of this is not torture enough, the book we’re back onto is The Enormous Turnip.
I don’t want to wish my child’s childhood away. But if you pray to a deity, any will do, please please pray for these molars to be through so that peace and sanity are established and we can get on with reading.
Thank you, that is all.