Baby Girl

Lila has had a very hard time transitioning back to our routine at home.  I know quite well how to deal with things like broken Christmas ornaments

climbing on counters to start fires in the microwave

board games strewn across the floor, leaking diapers, smeared lipstick, face powder dumped in the toilet, kicking tantrums, screaming tantrums, and crying for hours in the night.

But this is something new. 

When Lila gets very angry or loses control, she will hit her forehead on the ground or whatever hard object is nearby.  We have solid wood floors in our house.  She has sometimes broken the skin open and often created huge lumps before I can scoop up her arched and flailing, little body.

I had to create this lovely covering for the edge of her bed to keep her from knocking herself unconscious when she decides she wants to get out and I can't get there fast enough.

I think this may be the most ingenious, manipulative thing that any of my toddlers have done.  My Mom often often mused about how nice it would be to have a padded cell in the basement.  I have never really needed one.  I've dealt with plenty of tantrums--especially from daughter #1--and I have had to send kids to their rooms and just keep them there until they can calm down.  There has been the occasional destroying of said rooms while the tantrum continued, but I never felt like my child was truly in danger.

It has been very frustrating with Lila, though I've tried my best to keep patient.  She has been angry, clingy, upset, and has not wanted to sleep.  One night last week she had purple bags under her eyes but refused to go to bed.   I was rocking her for over an hour in her room to try to get her  to sleep because she wouldn't let me set her down.  I started getting so frustrated thinking about all of the things I needed to get done downstairs.  Then I stopped and thought, "What could possibly be more important or more enjoyable than rocking my baby??"   That made me think about something else my Mom used to say.  I remember her quoting part of a poem and I could only remember the last line.  Something about, "Quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep.  I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."   So I took a deep breath and rocked and rocked--contentedly--until Lila drifted into oblivion and I could put her down.

Luckily the past few days have been much better.  Lila is going to sleep and taking naps a little more nicely.  She hasn't hit her head for at least four days--though today several times she bent her head and cried threateningly.  Each time I told her, "Don't you dare hit your head!  I will hold you in just one minute."

 By the way, this is how her hair was when she woke from her nap.  I hope she doesn't lose these precious curls!

This morning as I was getting dressed that poem about cobwebs and rocking came to my mind again.  I decided to actually find it (aka google it).  And guess what the name of it is?  Lo and Behold...

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking. Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.