Out of the picture

– 3:16 pm

You, your mother and grandmother took the car for a walk. Hampton Court I’m told. Since resuming work, you and I don’t get to hang out as much. Sad but inevitable. An alternative perspective is to see it as an opportunity for you and Julia to spend as much time as possible. Her stay with us has an expiry date so I’m letting her soak it all in while she can. She’s cherishing every moment. It’s obvious, even to Stevie Wonder.

You’ve been joyfully listening to a medley of her childhood ballads (and all music in general) and learning Russian. She only speaks to you in Russian. I find it peculiar but exciting that one day, you’ll become a non-white person fluent in the language. It reminds me of this guy’s story. Russia has a bad rep at the moment because of the war in Ukraine but who knows how another language will serve you in the future.

I, on the other hand, have been speaking to you in French, English and Pidgin English. I pick at random, unmindfully and playfully based on the mood I think you’re in. Whichever flows, I swim with it. But most of the time, I use all three, simultaneously. Good luck telling them apart. Writing this has got me wondering when a good time is to start teaching a child multiple languages. My gut says whenever. Let’s see.


With your grandad returning to Riga (he misses you a lot by the way), we’ve been taking turns looking after you. Each night is split into two shifts. After eleven, you tend to wake up between 1:30 and 2 am. That’s the first shift and the first changing of the guard. From then, you typically sleep through the second shift to six. I’m usually out of the picture beyond then, getting ready for work.

As anticipated, I spend most school working nights on the sofabed in the basement. Once I’m up, going back to sleep is very hard. Regardless of the hour. You already know this. My mind thinks it’s the best time to start showcasing all the different things I have to do. Imagine having to sit front row to a catwalk of tasks twirling at the front of the runway, to and fro, in the same outfits, repeatedly. Yeah, fuck!

My body soon joins the nightmare after a while, at which point it’s near impossible to sleep until the early morning hours when I actually have to be up. Somehow, I find it difficult to disconnect when I have incomplete to-dos. I have a lot of to-dos. Your uncle Manu once asked me how I manage to do all these things, when do I sleep? I don’t. That’s how. Looks like only death will free me too.

There was a time I used to drink to sleep. A bit of gin and tonic to shut my mind up was the remedy. Every time I did, Liza would go, “are you drinking every day now?”. It was never daily but I got tired of hearing it. I knew it was her way of calling out a red flag. But the conscious inaccuracy of the question was super annoying. So I stopped. Probably for the best. You’d have a drunk for a father by now. And believe me, you don’t. I would know.

I’m also a super light sleeper. Any sound or fidgeting will wake me up. Right now, all you do is wriggle. A lot, especially during the second shift. You also make these choking outbursts with every twist and turn. It doesn’t only wake me up but it’s also worrying and anxiety-inducing. I have to keep checking the camera feed to make sure you don’t have a muslin over your face, suffocating in your own vomit or something dreadful. So to sleep, I’d have to smother you. That’s the only way. Your mother won’t allow it so I guess I’m downstairs for the time being. I overheard her saying to you, “you’ve split up the family”. She’s not a fan of this new sleeping arrangement. Fact. But we need this cadence to make this work.

In other news, you’ve also started making new sounds. We can tell when you’re happy and playing versus discomfort. You’re evolving very fast.

We’re also going to tilt your crib to reduce the effects of reflux. One of my friends told me he wished someone had told them about that when they had their first. In his words, these were “THE MOST stressful times”.

Sleeping through the night

– 11:08 am


Your mother took you to Frankfurt for four days last Friday… by herself. Just the two of you, travelling solo. I can just about manage dropping you off at your grandparents’, a three-minute walk away. So the thought of packing half the house, taking you through airport security, onto a plane, anticipating your every need or mood and catering for it in advance is exhausting just writing it down. I could use a brown paper bag just now.

But maybe the mindset is different for a mother. The planner that I am, I’m pretty sure if I had to do this and had every item on my list checked off, I’d be settled. I imagine that’s how Liza approached this as well. Besides, if history is anything to go by, you were effortless when we flew for the first time.

Nevertheless, I was still slightly anxious (for Liza) when I waved you goodbye at the gates. There’s just no knowing what to expect. I wasn’t worried, however, more like, “Fuck me, she’s brave!”

But all went well. You were, again, the perfect travel companion, adult-like. Your mother reports having a terrific time with you throughout her stay. Your expression in the pictures aligns with that sentiment, laughing (and drooling) in your wife-beater vest (as it was thirty degrees plus) the entire time. You didn’t look like you wanted to come back.

This trip (to visit her childhood friend Olya who has a four-year-old daughter Renata) had been on the books for a hot minute. The ticket had to be amended the last time because Olya was unwell. As I understand it, Liza and Olya have been inseparable since their teens. So it was always just a matter of when.


Thank God for the trip though. You slept through the night from the day you landed in Germany. We immediately assumed jet lag and tiredness from the journey. But then you did the same thing the following night, sleeping from ten to six. And again the night after. So we got curious. Without consulting each other, Valerie and I asked Liza to highlight any visible differences between your surroundings in Germany versus the ones here. She reported “white noise” – racist – and “my time with him is a lot calmer”.

I’ve dispelled the white noise theory since you got back home. You’re still sleeping through the night in the same conditions. Last night and the one before, you went to bed around ten, and it was about five am when your mother brought you down to me. I fed you to sleep, and you didn’t wake up til after nine.

Getting your baby to sleep through the night

The only changes we’ve made so far are putting you to bed two hours later and altering your diet. Your mother did some research (which her friend Maria from the NCT group confirmed) suggesting Hipp 2 might be giving you constipation. So we’ve since gone back a step, and yesterday, your grandparents had you on a vegetarian diet to test whether meat was a factor in your sleeping patterns. If you don’t sleep enough when we re-introduce it, then perhaps that theory has some legs.

For now, my take on this is pretty simple. We just have to put you to bed a couple of hours later. The extra hours running around is compounding. It takes its toll, beating you down into exhaustion. The only way to recover is to sleep.