Last night, Scott was doing the evening bottle and book routine with Jonah. He called out to me that Jonah was falling asleep and so he would be putting him down.
I called my friend Emily because, this was the second night in a row that he wasn’t nursing NEAR bedtime even. I could feel my milk coming in. I was scared. I needed support. I needed someone who’d been here, at this moment.
Is this the right thing? Jonah wasn’t asking for me, wasn’t asking to nurse. We’re following his cues. I started crying before I could speak.
She said, “Are you worried that he might not be getting something that he needs?’
At that moment, I heard his clear, loud little voice. “Ma-meee!”
I hung up quickly, ran into the nursery. Still slightly sobbing. I held Jonah. He wrapped his arms around my neck.
Nurse? he said, not terribly urgently, into my shoulder.
No. I said.
He snuggled into my chest.
I held him, rocked him, sang lullabies.
I put him down in the crib and he was asleep in five minutes.
I guess this is it.
This morning, when he woke up, instead of chanting Ma-mee, nurse! Boop! — like he does most mornings — his first demand was Bottle (Bah-ru-leh)!
We still had him nurse first, but his request is duly noted. He nursed again in the afternoon, twice — or so. And that was it. Went to bed again without a nighttime nursing, or much fuss. Some fuss, of course, because party boy never wants the party to end, though I suspect he is starting to understand that events come in an order. I explained to him that we could play again in the morning, after he sleeps.
The more clear example of order awareness came earlier tonight:
After Scott had done the bottle and book routine, Jonah again requested Ma-meee. I came into the nursery, held him. Poop, he said, adding, Potty!
While I suspected it might have been a ploy to delay bedtime, I decided to give it a shot anyway. Off came the footie pajamas and the diaper.
He spotted the bottle of bubbles on the counter. I had already used them once today to make potty time more appealing, and we had similarly employed them at bath time last night when that had threatened to become tantrum-riffic.
I offered him a deal. Poop first, then bubbles. He settled in to the potty, requested the sign language flash cards instead. And then, a few cards later, he pooped.
Yay, Jonah! I said.
Bubbles! he announced, with a big grin.
Yes!
And so, I blew him some bubbles. A good reward, I think.
And it would be simple if that were it, but there’s another item he’s associating with potty time. He has discovered my collection of three very heavy Baccarat crystal hearts that sit on the shelf behind the toilet. Today I let him hold one during a potty time, and so he requested a heart again tonight, but I told him he could have it after.
Which color do you want? I asked. Red, pink, or clear?
Cuh-le-ya-re, he said. He played with it while I put his diapers/pajamas back together.
Yes, the whole thing is turning into a bit of a production, but it may be worth it. With potty-ing, he’s been about 50% interested in alerting me to his needs, and half-content to just let the diaper do its job. I’m hoping the hearts and bubbles might be enticing enough to help up the odds in the potty’s favor.