This is something new we're trying. I'm dropping off Harry at my parents house twice a week, then bringing myself home so I can work with no distractions. (Well, there is the distraction of having to pump so Harry has milk at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but what's a girl to do?) He plays, has his lunch, takes a nap, and then comes home.
Since the beginning of the year I have been typing about 50% then I had been, all in an effort to better pay the bills. I'm also taking a chemistry class, albeit online, so even though I'm not required to show up for class, I do still have to make time for reading, homework, and tests. All in all, it's been going pretty well. I'm working a lot, but the paycheck has shown some thickening, and the class is necessary if I want to do something other than transcription some day. And doing all of this from home lets me spend a lot of time with Harry and Kevin and avoid paying for childcare. (Thanks, by the way, Mom and Dad!) I do not, however, get to sit down in the evenings and read or knit or watch TV with Kevin once Harry's gone to bed.
But, of course, Harry doesn't actually go to bed anymore.
Since the whole family was sick two weeks ago, Harry has regressed to waking up multiple (and I do mean multiple) times each night. He has learned to pull himself up and stand while holding his crib rail, which is adorable. Wait, let me clarify: It's adorable when he's taken a good, long nap and is rosy-cheeked and babbling. It is significantly less adorable when he's screaming, he's covered in snot and tears, and it's 3 o'clock in the morning.
In trying to figure out what the H is going on, Kevin and I have come up with these possible culprits:
- ear infection
- object permanence
- daylight savings
Object permanence, for those of you who never had to take psychology or child development, is the realization that just because something is out of sight does not mean it is "gone." That box of crackers I'm hiding behind my back? Harry knows it's there. So too does he know Mama and Daddy, while not in his room, are somewhere within earshot, and if he cries, we'll show up.
And I already hate daylight savings time, so I'm going to place a lot of blame there. His going to bed two hours later than normal must have something to do with moving the clocks ahead an hour.
I hate getting up in the middle of the night. But I mostly feel sorry for Kevin, because the timespan from after dinner until bedtime has always been his responsibility, and now it's twice as long as it was last week. . .