Dear Reese,
A milestone for your mama — I stopped tracking your every move in the Huckleberry app.
I have loved the app for a year. Nearly every bottle, every diaper, every nap and nighttime sleep went into it. It helped me keep routines. It helped me understand what you needed. It gave me peace of mind that yes, you have had enough to eat even though you only had an ounce of your last bottle. Beginning to track naps early on was a game-changer for understanding your wake windows.
But I told myself at a year, I needed to stop. The last thing I want is for you to start thinking we need to track all our food. I intentionally never tracked solids once you started on them six months ago for that reason.
And also, it had the unintentional effect of me reaching for my phone after you do anything. Phones are already fascinating to you, despite my best effort at limiting any screen time. I don’t want you to continue to always see me with my phone in my hand when I’m caring for you.
So on Monday, as I saw you drift off on the car camera as we drove to daycare, I took a breath and quietly committed to that being the moment we let it go. The app was no longer serving us as it once had.
In the two days since, I always feel like I’m forgetting something. But it’s freeing too. We are in enough of a routine right now (and I get enough sleep) that it’s not difficult for me to know when you last slept or ate. Daycare still gives me a daily report with all that info, but I know I won’t transfer it into the app while you play beside me in the bath.
If I was tracking your sleep still, I would see your bedtime start nearly half an hour after I had planned. Routine as usual, but when I put you down, you start crying and won’t stop. I rock, I sing, I offer you milk, I sit with you on the floor. Nothing seems to help, and I can’t find anything wrong— you’ve been a happy baby all evening. Your teacher did say you woke up from your afternoon nap early, so I suspect overtiredness is keeping you awake.
Finally, I lay you back in the crib and leave the room. You wail. It’s awful, but I’m wondering if I’m keeping you awake by staying in there with you. I tell myself two minutes, to see what you’ll do, and then I’ll go back in if you’re still crying.
You cry for a minute by yourself, then fall asleep.
Love,
Mama