The Baby is suddenly afraid of the vacuum cleaner. (Well, I haven’t used it in a while, it’s been broken and I’ve been sweeping the rugs but… her reaction to a working vacuum seems sudden to me nonetheless.) She is absolutely terrified. She presses herself up against a wall, she crawls under the table to get away from it, she cries and screams from the moment I turn it on until well after I turn it off. Obviously, this does not bode well for the carpet, or the Baby, both of which/whom need attention from time to time. And she wakes up if I try to vacuum while she sleeps.

It is one of those moments where, scream as she might, I just have to get it done and so I steel my self and turn the thing on. The baby runs to the door and presses herself against it. The Girl runs to her side and puts her arms around her cooing, “It’s okay Baby, it’s all right, don’t be scared.”

I glance up from time to time as I suck the dirt out of the edges of the living room and the girl remains firmly by the Baby’s side, arm around her, patting her reassuringly as she continues to cry, although somewhat less frantically. At one point I happen to look up, just in time to see her as, face furrowed with maternal solicitude, she gently brushes her fingers across the Baby’s forehead and tucks her barely long enough hair behind her ears and then cups her cheek softly while wiping a tear away with her thumb. It is an achingly familiar gesture. My mother always did that when I was crying, and I always do it for the Girl. It is unconscious most of the time. I’m only barely aware that I do it. But now, as I watch my little girl comfort her little sister in the same way I comfort her, that my mother comforted me, and who knows how many women before her did the exact same thing, my heart swells a little and my throat gets tight as I smile at this womanchild who is growing so compassionate.


Two weeks ago during our Shabbat meal, the GH while saying the blessings over our kids told the Girl, “I bless you to be as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside.”

Over the course of the week we talked a few times, she and I, about what that means. We talked about how if your heart is ugly, ugly words and mean things will come out of your mouth and body. And we talked about how a beautiful heart is full of joy, and cheer, and kindness, and generosity. It isn’t lazy, or bossy, or selfish.

Last Friday, as we drove to Beema’s house before sunset to keep Shabbat once more I turned to her in the car, and, overwhelmed with her cuteness, which just seems to increase every day I asked, “Could you be any more pretty than you are right now?”

“Yes,” she said, in her silly play voice, “I could be pretty on the inside.”

Sometimes I just want to eat her up she’s so adorable.


Update on the last post.

Thanks for your encouraging comments. The last two night since then he has woken himself up and he has been dry all night. Sometimes I lose perspective here under my mountain of laundry. But in about 3-4 weeks he’s had 14 dry nights which is more than he’s had in his entire life up till now, so the experiment must be working.

We’re trying a number of things. I’ve moved him back into our room where there is more going on at night to bring him out of deep sleep on occasion. I’m writing down when he’s wet and when he wakes up on his own and we’ve narrowed down two times of night that he is able to wake up and usually stays dry up until that point and if we wake him he’ll stay dry the rest of the night. He’s started waking himself at those times. And we’re putting him to bed a full hour earlier than before. If he goes to bed too late all bets are off and he is usually wet several times because he’s so tired.

And there’s this

Dry All Night: The Picture Book Technique That Stops Bedwetting
I just ordered this fabulous book at Amazon for only $16 used. (Note the new price tag.) We read it tonight. It gives me such hope. and they really liked it so we’ll see if it helps at all. I thought the girl who cried and cried and cried when she woke up wet was a tad too melodramatic for such a book but then, I’m given to fits of melodrama myself over this thing so I suppose it’s all right.

Hope that helps Jessie, and anyone else who like me has spent countless nights googling bed wetting and come up empty so far.

all content © Carrien Blue

3 thoughts on “Moments-18

  1. Thank you for the information. My son did wake up dry this morning so there is hope.

  2. When my oldest was about 18 months, she was scared of the vacuum cleaner, too. I had to hold her and vacuum to get it done. She eventually overcame her fear.

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