In November, I had an 8 week old baby and a 3 year old who dislodged three of her teeth. They were knocked back up into her gums, and oh once they were hurt, didn’t she just keep knocking them. The front one especially was really loose, but being that only half of it was visible because it was so far back up into her gum, it stayed in her gum.
And there it remains, and all I can do now is wait to see what horrible stained and marked state her adult tooth is in before I start worrying over dental bills.
Anyhoo. The point of this story is that she, until the evening of the day that she knocked her teeth, had been an ardent dummy sucker. A stubborn, ardent dummy sucker.
We had tried geeing her up about the dummy fairy, but she wasn’t interested. We showed her the footage of her cousin chucking out her dummies in exchange for a toy, and when my sister asked her if she wanted to do it now, she smiled and said, “Nope!” with her nose in the air.
The good thing about the dummy was that, more or less, it kept her in her bed and got her to sleep quite quickly.
And then we had to wrench the dummy from her life overnight.
Did I mention that I had an 8 week old baby at the time? You know, those early models that wake every three hours. I had ‘suitcases’ under my eyes, as one of my mums group mums so eloquently put it.
So, combination of no dummy, pain, trauma, and tired mum meant that the quickest route to sleep was the preferred option. This meant that:
- We started to sit next to her while she went to sleep
- Instead of marching her back to bed during her nocturnal visits, we simply set up her little foam couch on the floor of our room so she could sleep there whenever she came in
- When we tried to get things ‘back to normal’, it all felt too hard and we would always cave in and let her have her way.
Wow. Textbook ‘Accidental Parenting’.
Well, we’re on the path to change. We may be moving in a week and a half to a serviced apartment before going to Brisbane for a few weeks, before coming back to the serviced apartment, before departing overseas… but a bed is a bed, and in the Sprog’s case her bed is, from now on, never going to be in my room.
Pass me the matchsticks. I’m going to be doing a lot of marching between rooms tonight.