I still remember wandering around the streets of Salonica feeling lost and bleak, checking in on her every 5-10 minutes or so (quite contrary to what Ngala or Green would advise) hoping that she had fallen asleep. Each time I returned, she was baffled, terrified, angry, anything but asleep. After an hour and a quarter she was hysterical and sweaty, I, not much better. I shrieked at her to GO TO SLEEP, then calmed down, took her out of the cot and at last held her to me. She fell asleep on my chest, still heaving in her sleep with the aftermath of such a violent crying jag. For the next week, she would only sleep on top of me, waking if I tried to move and escape.
Having just read a lovely article at Pinky McKay’s blog about how we’ve all gone a bit overboard with gadgety for our children… I’ve been reflecting on how different my second son has been to my first. My parenting has changed significantly, to what I like to consider to be a more baby-centric method. This time [...]