The boxer…

With due apologies to Paul and Art, I’ve borrowed the phrase, and truly believe its mine ;). ‘The boxer’ in question is my daughter. Why do I call her that? Quite early in our relationship, when I didn’t know my ‘a*se from my elbow’ (to quote my eloquent dad) motherhood-wise, I read the term in a book. It was one that made the rounds, even in celeb circles, and claimed it was the miracle cure to the crying child because it knocks them straight off to sleep. It advocates swaddling a child, swaying and shushing it primarily. All pretty basic stuff really, but a revelation to the average mummy dum-dum like me. It further said that the system worked instantly but sometimes, certain kids, just when you think they’re out, will come back up for another round, to fight you like a staggering boxer. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I have. A tough little boxer who sometimes goes for the full 10 rounds!

In the first month or so, I had no clue how to put her to bed. If my mum weren’t around to rescue the poor child, we’d have been in trouble. She’d need holding for HOURS to ensure she was properly asleep. And just when she was, and we’d put her down, she’d wake up! But that phase was quickly replaced. I figured out how to use Dr. Karp’s tricks quite nicely indeed. And was filled with a sense of self-congratulatory pleasure. This sh*t is simple I said, I am the adult here and she is the kid. I can get her to do what I want with a little persistence. Famous last words!

The boxer is now back! With all-singing, all-dancing performances. The past couple of months have been slightly short of a nightmare. She won’t fall asleep, she wakes up a gazillion times, crying, and sometimes decides that 3am is a brilliant time to squeal and play. Some call it teething, some call it the 4-month sleep regression. I call it ‘kill me now’!

As most people who know me know, I’m not a ‘natural mother’. This wasn’t a future I’d fondly envisioned as a little girl. It was something that one day seemed to us like the right thing to do, and we went with it. Of course no challenge is too big for me, and once I commit, I commit plus I do have superb help from the sig other and my sister. But that still doesn’t make any of this easy. There have been tears and outbursts of rage and even regret along the way (which my friends have told me everyone of them has gone through atleast once if not once everyday; so I figure its normal, unless we’re all a bunch of psychos?)

So, I drag myself out of bed every so often these days and go back in for another round with the boxer. Sometimes I look at her and wonder, how come she isn’t as tired as I am?? But she seems just fine! Like all pros, with but one objective, to destroy the opponent ;).

People have told me everything from ‘this is a phase, give her what she wants’ to ‘let her cry it out’ and everything in between. I just need to figure out what I believe will work.

So today, as my little boxer turns 6 months, all I can say is that of the many, many things that keep me sane, she is the best (oh with bo*ze a close second)! I might not know all the answers, but I know that she loves me with all her little heart, and I love her, and we WILL figure this out :).