Now that the holiday season is over and done with, so begins the long, slow trudge through winter. It's hard not to feel a bitter sense of anticlimax every year when the whole festive shebang comes to an end. I've always found it profoundly depressing to see Christmas trees tossed out on the sidewalks like deadbeat drunks after closing time. To think that these objects were joyously picked out, cherished, decorated, gathered around and celebrated only mere days before, only now to be lovelessly degraded and abandoned out on the cold, unrelenting pavement. I suppose they're gathered up and ground up as mulch to feed future generations of Christmas trees, but that's always struck me as a bit Soylent Greeny. Could "Mad Tree Disease" be far behind?
In terms of the new year, I've never been one for resolutions. I know myself well enough to realize that I'm invariably going to break any self-restricting rules I ambitiously set. That said, the Missus and I have sworn to accomplish one specific goal in very short order this year, that being to successfully move little Oliver (ten months old next week) out of our room and into the room that has heretofore been inhabited solely by his big sister, Charlotte. While Charlotte has been informed of this plan, it's hard to imagine that she's fully "on board," so to speak. While she shares the room with her little sibling by day, by night, it is a realm she alone rules. That's about to change.
In all likelihood, putting both of our children in that room is going to make for an arduous several days -- if not weeks -- of adjustment. For a start, Oliver's sleeping habits are still slightly unrefined. He's still keen on waking up a few times a night. We've been resisting giving him the bottle these last few nights, hoping to break him of the habit (ironic, given our long struggle to get him onto the bottle in the first place). That hasn't exactly been going swimmingly. They're unavoidably going to be waking each other up periodically, which is going to be a problem.. Secondly, the chatter factor is going to increase a thousand fold. And while it's adorable to hear them interact with each other (thus far, Charlotte has been a mercifully doting and affectionate older sister to little Oliver), it'll invariably impede nocturnal peace and quiet to have them giggling, conspiring and squabbling in there.
It's definitely going to be tough. I remember Charlotte's anguish when we moved her out and into her own room. At least Oliver will have company. But for our purposes, moving Oliver into Charlotte's room simply has to happen. Since his birth, our bedroom has been held hostage. At night, we have to tip-toe in and out for fear of waking him. We don't get to read before bed. When we get up in the middle of the night, we have to remember not to walk into his Pack'n'Play (much less walk too close to it) lest we rouse him. In short, we need our room back. We need our nights back.
We'll see how that goes.
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