Monthly Archives: November 2013

The 18-Month Demon Possession. I mean, Sleep Regression

Okay, you guys. I am about to lose my shit. And not in that cutesy way that’s all, like, Oh Em GEEE, I’m at the grocery store and, like, that guy is SO CUTE and I haven’t brushed my hair and I’m wearing yoga pants!

Seriously. L hasn’t napped in EIGHT DAYS. And she’s not hungry or wet or sick (I know this because I brought her to the doctor already and she was fine) and she’s not on fire. But the minute I mention sleep in any form, she goes batshit crazy and screams like she actually IS ON FIRE.

Now, before you get all, “She’s probably teething, or entering the Terrible Twos, or having separation anxiety or is on FIRE”, let me assure you that I am aware that all of these things are possible. (Except for that last one. Because, that would be harder to miss. Come on, you guys, I’m not a TOTAL idiot.) But do kids typically scream in their cribs for HOURS ON END? (Note: I have not let her stay in there for hours on end screaming, but she WOULD, I assure you.)

It started last Thursday. I went to put her down for her nap, a little early, I’ll admit, because she was acting like a maniac and I was about to stick a screwdriver in my temple. She went apeshit. APE. SHIT. She screamed for five minutes before hurling herself out of her crib and I heard a thump. This was my worst nightmare. Luckily, she didn’t have any bumps or bruises but she scared the bejesus out of me (and herself). So, I waited about two hours, let her play and tire herself out and then put her down again. This time, she screamed but she eventually went to sleep after just a few minutes. Success!

Friday was a lot like Thursday. INSANE protest at our first attempt. But the second attempt went swimmingly. Until Baby O lost his baby cool and screamed for 45 minutes (which he NEVER DOES) and woke her up after exactly 36 minutes. Sleep? Who needs it!?

Saturday, we were visiting my mom. Heh. NADA.

Sunday I got her to sleep at her normal time and I believed that all was not lost. And then MB wanted to wake her up early to have lunch with his dad before he left to go back home, out of state. And so we did that. DISASTER. She was a total asshole for the rest of the day. I wanted to run away from home.

Monday, I brought her to the doctor for her 18-month check up and she did great. Until I tried to put her down. SCREAM, SCREAM, SCREAM. No nap.

Tuesday. She was angelic. No problems.

Yesterday? Forgetaboutit. I am thankful for the Thanksgiving feast at my mom’s house which provided her with two 30 minute car seat naps.

Today? THREE ATTEMPTS at napping. Each involving 45 minutes of non-stop screaming. I am convinced that my neighbors are going to call CPS because I cannot stop the noise. CANNOT STOP IT. So, I called the pediatrician. Her advice? “Yeah, give her a little motrin or Tylenol just in case she is in pain. But you just have to let her know that it is nap time and she has to stay in her bed and go to sleep. So, just let her scream and go in every 15 minutes or so and console her. But don’t pick her up. She will eventually wear herself out.” Now, mind you, I have read every baby sleep book known to man. I have avoided the cry it out method as much as possible. And I had finally gotten L to a manageable level of slumber. But I have been using this method, exactly as she just told me, for THREE DAYS already and, unless I want to listen to my kid continuously scream ALL FUCKING DAY, I am not sure I can continue. Just now, after an hour and seven minutes of this, she has finally stopped (an hour and seven minutes in THIS attempt, 40 and 45 minutes in the previous two attempts) and she has either finally worn herself out or has banged her head, amidst all the thrashing, and knocked herself out. And I am afraid to check. Because if I wake her up and have to start all over again, I WILL KILL MYSELF.

I called MB at work, in the middle of my second meltdown of the day, trying to explain to him what it is like to NEVER. EVER. EVER. get to stop trying to get babies to go to sleep. Especially when you haven’t slept, yourself. He is no help. Because he has never had to do all of that while simultaneously trying to tend to an infant. I have never, in my life, felt so helpless. And, I mean, sort of hopeless too. It seems like I can never accomplish anything because I am constantly trying to get L to sleep. There is no time to do ANYTHING ELSE.

I have read about this 18-month sleep regression. And let me tell you, those articles and whatnot make it sound like it is just a rough patch. Like, you got a hangnail. I liken it more to COMPLETE DEMON POSSESSION.

Please send good sleep juju. Or an exorcist.

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I’m “That Guy”

So, you guys, I’ve been thinking a lot about hosting a contest here. But I’m not sure what the prize should be. I mean, I’m sure you all are mostly parents because, well, lets face it, why would you be reading if you weren’t? Unless you just like me. (In which case, you have awesome taste.) But…what kinds of things would you guys be interested in winning. Like, within reason. I’m not giving you a beach house. Just stop it.

So what’s the verdict? What’s a good prize? Also, it will involve Facebook. So get ready to like the hell out of me. Go.

Validation

I love being a parent. I love it so much that sometimes I wonder how I got to be so lucky to have been given these adorable little people to teach and love and raise.

And then there are days like today. Days when you wake up, optimistic, and get started on diaper changing and breakfast cooking and then the shit hits the fan. Someone has a tummy ache and the other is teething. L doesn’t want oatmeal for breakfast and she very loudly protests it, throwing Baby O into an almost melodic tantrum just because, you know, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em! Then no one wants to play. Or bounce. Or partake in any tummy time. And someone else is NOT HAPPY unless some wildly annoying children’s show is on TV. And then no one wants to take a nap. And when you put one down, he starts screaming, which forces the other one to become concerned and start screaming as well. And then, once they are finally calm enough for you to attempt the nap time ritual, they become monsters again. One literally JUMPS out of her crib and onto her head while the other angrily yells from the next room. And you freak out about the bump on the head of the one, while simultaneously trying to rub Orajel on the other one’s gums so that everyone will just STOP. EFFING. CRYING. And then they do. And you walk out of the room and think that you are absolutely the worst, most inept parent that ever walked the earth. And you sob for exactly 35 seconds until one of them finds you. And then you turn off the waterworks and you carry on. Inept or not. You’re still mom.

I’ve said before that sometimes I just want to stick my head in the oven. And today has been that kind of day. I want to crawl into my bed and hide from the kids until their daddy gets home. And then HE can make 33 different kinds of food for L for dinner, 32 of which she will refuse to eat and will end up spattered on the floor and wall. And HE can bathe them and lotion them and strap the monitor to HIM for the rest of the night and attempt to do ANYTHING that doesn’t directly involve a baby. I am certain he couldn’t hack this job. But some days I want to see him try, so that I can relax. And maybe, for once, he can want to stick HIS head in the oven. And I will feel completely validated.

I wrote this post yesterday. And when MB got home, he made 33 different options for L’s dinner (32 of which ended up on the floor and/or the wall. And I did not feel validated. Because today turned out exactly the same as yesterday. Except that when I lost my shit, holding Baby O and trying to fend off the teething monster that has overtaken our lives, L came to me with a concerned look on her face and said, “It’s OK” and held out her tiny index finger for me to kiss. (Because, this week, when L wants to tell you she cares about you, she sticks her finger in your face and you kiss it. It does what its told.) And, it WAS okay, you guys. Because, THAT is validation. There is so much love here. And yeah, teething sucks. And diapers are the devil. And sometimes you just want to hurl yourself off of a 80 story building, but at the end of the day, there are tiny index fingers that need smooching.

And it’s OK.

 

An Open Letter to Baby O: Five Months

Dear Oliver,

Today you are five months old. I always say that I can’t believe it. Because I CAN’T FREAKING BELIEVE IT! You are not only no longer a newborn, but you do tricks!

You can sit up unassisted now! Not for long periods of time, yet. But I am a firm believer that this is because your overall chunk factor is outweighing your ambition to do so. Understandably so. You are CHUNKY. You are at your most motivated when I am eating food next to you and you are intrigued and drooling. I am thinking that if I create some sort of device that dangles donuts in front of your face, you will do lots more interesting things.

You are not a fan of tummy time. And this is not a shock because your sister hated it so much that it took literally TWO SECONDS on her tummy before she started wailing her pretty little head off. You aren’t quite as bad as she was. You will, at least, humor me for a minute or so before you get angry. But you’re strong. And that makes me happy.

You might not believe this when you finally read this post, and you might call me a liar, but you absolutely LOVE YOUR SISTER. Your eyes light up every time she is within your line of sight and you squeal with glee when she pays attention to you. I mean, like, ANY attention. Now, like I said, you may never believe that this was ever the case. But here it is, Ollie. In print. Mommy has spoken. I get so much satisfaction out of the two of you and your interactions with each other. When you cry, she brings your pacifier to me to give to you. (She sometimes tries to shove it, ever so gently into your eye mouth. She tries to help. She loves you too.

You are still such a happy baby. You sleep well most of the time and you coo and giggle and have all this personality and I just can’t believe how fast you are growing. You are generally content just to sit and watch as I put out your sister’s little fires all day. You bounce in the little bouncy contraption while she bangs pots and pans and creates a ridiculous amount of noise. You don’t mind. You just want to be near her. And when the mood strikes her, she pushes the bouncy contraption back and forth, saying, “WEEEEEEE!” for you so that it is like you are in a swing. (She used to push you in the swing too, if it wasn’t turned on, because she can’t stand you not to be moving?) You love this. You giggle and scream and just watch her. It melts my heart every time.

I hope that, by the time you read this, you and your sister are as close as you can be. I think that is the most exciting thing for me about you being this close in age. You, I hope, will grow to be best friends. I hope that you will love each other and look out for each other always. I hope that you get the best of the best out of having a sibling. Because, I mean, siblings are AMAZING. (Try and remember that when she plays tricks on your or tells you that you were adopted. You were NOT adopted and I have this blog, detailing all of the pain of my pregnancy, to prove it. But it is an older sibling’s DUTY to convince you of such things. Just kick her. No. Don’t kick your sister. Man…I maybe need to work on my parental advice before you get old enough that you actually do start kicking her. Crap.)

Anyway, I love you very much. More and more every single day. I can’t imagine my life without your smile. And your big, beautiful eyes. And being puked on 17 times before noon every day. (My guess is that I would probably smell better without that last one, though.) You should know that you, your sister and father are my whole world. And I couldn’t love any three people more. You all complete me. So, yeah. Thanks for that, little guy.

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To the moon and back,

Mom

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This is not a real post!

So, this isn’t a real post but I wanted to let you guys know that, if you do any of your holiday shopping online, you should absolutely be using ebates. I use it every year and it has been so awesome! Here’s a link! http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=sBPEe2V36Cx%2Bk7huHFBVdQ%3D%3D&eeid=24653
That is all!

No Apologies…My Kid Watches TV.

DJ Lance Rock with King Khan and the Shrines

DJ Lance Rock with King Khan and the Shrines (Photo credit: greenplastic875)

This evening, right before bath time, L spilled her sippy cup of water all over the hardwood floor in the living room. She stood in a puddle of water next to the coffee table and looked at me with those little wide eyes as if to tell me that she had done something wrong. When I walked over to her, she looked down and her soggy socks and started to try and walk away. She slipped and lost her footing, but she didn’t fall. I realized what had happened, scooped her up and grabbed some paper towels to clean up the water. And when I started to clean it up she looked at me with those same giant blue eyes and said, “Oh NOOOOO! I sorry!”

This may not be such a big deal. But so many things happened in that moment. Like, I realized for the first time that, while she has previously exhibited some knowledge of what is going on around her on a deeper level than I expect her to, she actually KNOW THINGS, you guys. Like, she knows that she made a mistake. And then that the proper and polite thing to do was APOLOGIZE. And she’s not quite 18 months old and she walks and talks and sings and dances and it is like she learns more stuff so quickly that I can barely keep up! And it makes me feel so full of this immense joy that I feel like my heart might actually explode. But it also makes me so sad that SOOOOOON she won’t be my baby anymore. (Which, I guess, makes it pretty awesome that I get to do all of it simultaneously with her brother, who is just a year and 24 days younger than her. Yes. Most of you know that already.) But Oh. My. GOD. My baby is a PERSON.

That’s not really the point of this post.

I read a lot of stuff about the development of the brain of babies and toddlers. And, like, how they shouldn’t watch any TV before they are two years old. And then it is supposed to be a REALLY small amount. You know, you have all read the same things. And for a long time, with L, I was really stringent about letting her watch ANYTHING. And then I got to a point where I knew that, with her NEVER SLEEPING and all of that, I would need to find some SECONDS to do ANYTHING else and that might require DJ Lance Rock. And things worked out well. A half hour of DJ Lance was enough for me, when she was seven months old and bouncing up and down in some contraption or another, to do dishes. Or PEE. Or brush my teeth. And life was better.

And then I had Baby O. It was then that I realized, not only do I no longer have time to read these articles about baby and toddler brain development, but I don’t have time not to turn on DJ Lance for 30 minutes so that I don’t stab myself in the eye so that I can get a break (read: trip to the emergency room which would be the only way I would get a break most of the time). And I said, “Fuck this. I get to decide these things.” After all, my mom said that, at 18 months, since I was unable to walk due to an injury sustained during birth, I would watch entire episodes of Sesame Street and could read well by the time I was four. So, yeah. The articles say that allowing children under two to watch television will cause them to have ADD. And they will be socially underdeveloped. And BLAH BLAH MOTHERFUCKING BLAH. But the people who write these articles CLEARLY don’t have a four month old and a seventeen month old sucking the ever-loving sanity RIGHT OUT OF THEIR SOULS. Nope. I am sure of it. So my kid watches “Elmo the Musical” and happily sings the theme song to “Yo Gabba Gabba” but she also apologizes for spilling her water on the floor. And she interacts with everyone. And she shows NO signs of any kind of ineptitude in any area. Do I let her sit in front of the TV for 10 hours per day? No. (And that would make me a total asshole, b t dubs.) Does she watch 2 hours per day? Heck yes. And you know why? Because I’m the mommy. And there’s another tiny, demanding little guy needing something during pretty much ALL OF THE SECONDS in which she isn’t. So there.

In your face, article writers who make moms feel guilty about stupid shit. My kid is gonna be a damn genius.