Tuesday, February 14, 2006

On a strange transitional object...

[Editor's note: This, like all posts that date prior to January 9, 2007, was originally posted at my former Woebegotten Wonderland blog that was destroyed for many very good reasons and a few pretty pathetic ones. They will all be labeled as "re-runs" here. I apologize for the blatant recycling hack-job, but the truth is I don't write that much and some of this stuff is probably better than I am likely to write any time soon. It seemed such a shame to let it go to waste.]

I've often heard that most children have a "transitional object". This is something dear to them, that often will remind them of their parents' love, and make them feel secure. Often these objects are blankets, and thus called "security blankets". I had a blanket that my grandmother made for me that served this purpose. My nephew had a stuffed duck. I don't recall what, if any, transitional objects Josh and Maggie (my two oldest children) had. Some children never have a transitional object, and so it is possible that neither of them did.

These objects are often clung to, especially in a new and unfamiliar environment. It is said that these objects essential provide a similar level of comfort to their possessor that having a parent with them would.

My youngest son Caleb has a transitional object. He sleeps with it. He takes it with him in his car seat. Everywhere Caleb goes, this object must be with him. If it isn't, there will be hell to pay for whoever is responsible for its absence.

This object is not a blanket. He has many blankets available to him, but he is indifferent to their presence unless he is cold.

This object is not a doll or stuffed animal. Both my wife and I have saved most of our childhood toys, especially dolls and stuffed animals. Our families have also purchased many dolls and stuffed animals for our children. We have more floating around our house than I could possibly keep track of. But Caleb is as indifferent to the dolls and stuffed animals as he is to the blankets. Unless it is one of Maggie's dolls and it would start a fight with her for him to take it.

What Caleb will not part with. For any reason. EVER. Is his lightsaber. Caleb has a toy lightsaber (several, actually- but only one that really serves as the transitional object) that we bought for him before he was born (we didn't want him to come into the family as the only one without a lightsaber). He takes it to school. He takes it to church. He takes it on trips. He takes it to bed. He watches movies holding it. It is never to be out of his sight. He quite simply will not live without it.

What a little geek I've raised. This father could not be more proud.

Thursday, February 9, 2006

An ominous start to the day...

[Editor's note: This, like all posts that date prior to January 9, 2007, was originally posted at my former Woebegotten Wonderland blog that was destroyed for many very good reasons and a few pretty pathetic ones. They will all be labeled as "re-runs" here. I apologize for the blatant recycling hack-job, but the truth is I don't write that much and some of this stuff is probably better than I am likely to write any time soon. It seemed such a shame to let it go to waste.]

Caleb wakes up at around 3:00 some mornings just wanting to be held and loved. Josh and Maggie went through the same thing at his age. I don't know if it's night terrors or what, but about once or twice a week Caleb will revert to being an inconsolable baby in the middle of the night.

On a good night, his mother or I will go into his room, talk to him, comfort him, hold him for a few minutes, and put him back in his bed. On a bad night, we'll just bring him back to our bed with us and try to go back to sleep. On these nights, Caleb never has trouble going back to sleep. We might.

Caleb likes to sprawl. He just stretches out and gets comfortable. He also, for whatever reason, really likes the headboard on our bed. He likes to touch it. He likes to press himself up against it. He likes to maintain constant contact with it and both of his parents. This means that Caleb will often, if given the chance, be found laying perpendicular to us across our faces and pillows in the middle of the night. It is for this reason that we are much more likely to get him back to sleep in his bed than ours. We've been down this road before (with Josh and Maggie) and we don't like it.

Last night Caleb was pitiful, and I was weak. I brought him to bed with me. I snuggled up with him and got him back to sleep in a relatively reasonable position. All was good.

I made, however, two crucial mistakes.

1). I didn't account for his ability to squirm in his (and our) sleep and get into his preferred position laying against the headboard.

2). I did not check the condition of his diaper or change it.

This morning I awoke to Caleb laying across my pillow, with pee all over it and him.

That's right, my pillow had been peed on.

I actually have two pillows on the bed that are mine. When I go to sleep they are stacked one on top of the other. I often have allergy issues and difficulty breathing, so propping my head up a little helps me to go to sleep. I am a fairly "active" sleeper, however, so my pillows do not often stay in the position in which I left them when I went to sleep. Due to this trait, only one of my pillows was peed on. The other fell harmlessly to the floor in the middle of the night.

The five of us (Shannon, Josh, Maggie, Caleb, and myself) are not the only living creatures in our house. We also possess a dog (Abby) and three cats (Cheddar, Colby-Jack, and Winky). Having so many living creatures in one house means that often somebody is not getting the attention they feel they deserve. This usually culminates in someone "acting out" to obtain attention. Apparently bad attention is still attention, and when attention-starved it will do nicely. When one of the children is attention starved, he or she will generally pick a fight with a sibling or get into something that they know they aren't supposed to. When one of the animals is attention starved, they often will just pee or poop on something.

This morning, one of the cats apparently was not paid enough attention. I'm not sure which one, and so I guess whoever-it-was's plan for attention failed, as I gave it none, not knowing who to give the attention (read: punishment) to. But one of the cats peed on something. And not just anything, but something extraordinarily important to me, especially in light of what happened in the middle of the night.

That's right, the damned cat peed on my other pillow.

I can tell that this is going to be the kind of day that I would be better just going back to bed and sleeping through. I'll try the whole thing again tomorrow, right?

Well I would, except what would I use for a pillow?