We spent Easter weekend with Patrick’s parents (our second 4-day weekend in a row). Nicholas had a blast going up and down the stairs repeatedly, much to Gramma’s concern. I tried to sit back and take the “he’s gotta learn” approach and he actually was just fine – no tumbles, thank goodness. He’s really got the handle of them now. It’s funny when he goes upstairs holding our hands – he likes to take one step per foot, just like we do, so he can almost climb them faster than we do. Going down is a mix of either holding a hand and the railing or deciding that’s not fast enough so going down on his hands and knees.
Nicholas went out on the beach for a walk with Gramma, Grampa, and Daddy while Mummy tried to get 40 winks. I haven’t been sleeping more than 3 hours a day since the end of January and really hoped that this trip would get me over the hump and back into a regular sleep pattern again. Just before I laid down, I watched them all playing on the beach. Patrick was shooting video of the area, Peter was kicking the ball for Nicholas to chase, and Janey was watching. Suddenly, the wind caught the ball and blew it toward the ocean … and into the water. Nicholas was still chasing it. My heart stopped as I could see what was about to happen and realized that no one was making a move to stop it (they hadn’t noticed or realized it yet). I tried to open the sliding door, but it was locked (one of those great security locks on the bottom). My heart jumped into my throat. Nicholas was now running full tilt for the water and still no one was stopping him. I banged on the door, screaming at the top of my lungs, but they couldn’t hear me. I was completely helpless to prevent my child (remember he’s only 19 months at this point) from making a possibly disastrous choice. As Patrick turned with the camera, he suddenly became aware of what was happening, just as Nicholas entered the water and topple over, face first. He practically threw the video camera to his mother and dashed after Nicholas, getting wet up to his knees, but rescuing my darling little boy from a fate much worse than being wet. Meanwhile, I’m madly dashing from room to room, still trying to open doors (stupid burglar-proof locks).
When Patrick brought Nicholas up to the house to dry off, the little trooper didn’t even seem to mind. He wasn’t nearly as wet as I had expected, considering he had done a face plant into the ocean – he was wearing his MEC Muddy Buddy (one piece rain suit), so the water had only entered at his ankles and a bit around the neck. The skin that had been exposed (hands, face, neck) were very chilly and red, but he didn’t seem phased at all by the whole ordeal. Couldn’t say the same for me. I was CRAAAAAANKY at everyone and everything, except Nicholas, who I cuddled and cuddled to help him warm up and reassure myself he was safe in my arms. Sure hope nothing like that ever happens again – the feeling of being completely helpless in that situation took at least a couple of years off my heart’s life!
Sleep was a mixed bag – some nights he went down without a single fuss, but others he would cry for quite a while before he would finally settle or I would go in to settle him. For the most part, he really only cries when he’s not tired enough to sleep, which is better than crying just because he doesn’t want to be there. My sleep pattern hasn’t improved – still no more than 3 hours at a time. I’m having a touch time staying awake through the day now. A couple of times I’ve passed out quite suddenly in the middle of the afternoon – thank goodness our home has been mostly baby-proofed and Nicholas can amuse himself for an hour or so on his own. I really thought this weekend would make all the difference, but alas … it didn’t. I think it’s time to start looking for some help with it.