Cat Stevens memories

Both of my boys when they were babies had particular musical tastes about what they found calming. I like to listen to lots of different music, which is to say what I listen to today I probably won't want to listen to again tomorrow (so listening to the radio is straight out). But babies are the opposite; they like the familiarity. I can't really say how Quin and I figured out which music the boys preferred; it just at some point became obvious that certain CDs were better than others for calming them down and soothing them to sleep. As much as I pushed the Mamas and the Papas or Simon and Garfunkel, for Aidan his CD of choice was Madonna's Ray of Light. Aidan always went down for bed really easy, but he would also almost always wake up again four hours later and be completely incapable of getting back to sleep. So when I hear the tracks of that CD now, I instantly get that bone-tired, "do I have to carry him the entire time or can I sit down- Nope! Have to be standing!" feeling all over again.

Oliver slept okay, but he was (and is) prone to these periods of irrational derangement. There is no reasoning with a preverbal baby who has stripped himself naked and is throwing himself at the walls and even foaming at the mouth, screaming and crying. Then you can understand how people in the Middle Ages could sometimes believe that fairies stole their baby and left something else in it's place. At any rate, when Oliver was in one of these places, it was Cat Stevens that brought him out.

I have a specific memory of a day we took him to the park. He was walking but not talking, so I'd say he was just over a year. He didn't want to be in the stroller, didn't want to walk, didn't want to be carried... you see the picture forming here. Then he got into something muddy. Quin and Aidan stayed at the park, but I got to push my screaming little changling home in his Cadillac of strollers that he never willing sat in. That's always good for some glances and outright stares. Then I got to try to bathe him. Ever try to give a cat a bath? Just like that but bigger and stronger and much louder. Without the claws though; I'll give him that.

So then I bring him out to the living room where Cat Stevens is playing. He doesn't want the towel wrapped around him, just loosely draped over him to keep him warm, so his naked wet body is soaking me but that's okay since I'm already drenched from that bath. Eventually he stops fighting and calms down, probably at about the time "Trouble" comes on. "Trouble" is the one that usually does it. He's not sleeping, just zoning out, looking out the window.

I look out the window too and see a very pregnant woman walking by. She can hear the music and see us in the window. She smiles a dreamy smile and runs her hands over her belly. I want to bang the window and yell, "No, this is not what it looks like! This is just one minute of quiet cuddling. The last two hours have been hell!"

I only mention this because I was listening to Cat Stevens again today and it occurred to me I don't really remember the hell parts too clearly anymore, but everytime I hear Cat Stevens, it's like cuddling my little guy all over again.