Early Morning Words

Still sleepy, I felt her stirring next to me in bed. I knew it was only a matter of moments, with the first glimmer of the sun peeking around the curtain, before Alice would be up and ready to go. I cherish these moments. For one, sleeping Alice is a peaceful Alice. It's the only time in the day she looks young. I see her chubby cheeks, her stubby baby fingers, fine wisps of blonde waves around her face. Sleeping, she is my beautiful, angelic baby girl. I also love this brief moment because I enjoy sleeping. My days of sleeping till nine are gone. Now, as a mom, I savor resting extra seconds every morning. I want to be the mom who gets up before the kids, spends quality alone time in the quiet house before it rises and consumes you with noise and demands. I am just not this mom. At the moment, I am satisfied lying quiet and still next to my little girl. Snuggled up next to her, I do not hear her whines and cries. I feel the love in my heart listening to every breath she takes, remembering the days long ago filled with new mom anxieties, when I'd rest my hand on her fragile infant chest to be sure she was breathing.

And just like that she's awake.

"I want to have my picture taken with Rich, too," she says without missing a beat, as if we were in the middle of a conversation.

"Uh huh," I mumble, confused and sleepy.

"I want to have my picture taken with Rich, too," she tells me again as she stretches her arms above her head.

Still unsure of what she is talking about I say nothing. I am always intrigued by her first words of the day. Given my druthers, I wouldn't speak to a soul in the morning until I have a cup of coffee in my hand. But, Alice always begins the day with excitement. She picks up exactly where she left off, either in her dream or the night before. She doesn't spare a single second of awake time, she speaks instantly. The moment her eyes are open and registering daylight she starts talking. Uttering her first word at nine months I should have known Alice would be a talker.

Not satisfied with my silence, she elaborates, "Like I got my picture taken with Santa, and I'm going to get it with Ray Rice, I wanna get my picture taken with Rich, too."

Ahh, now it's all starting to make sense. She's talking about Rich, a member of the band and Disney Junior TV show, The Imagination Movers. Rich is her favorite; he mostly plays drums.

And just like that, my baby is growing up.

This same child refused to sit on Santa's lap three years in a row, has never sat on the Easter Bunny's lap, ran screaming and crying from Curious George, was finally growing up. Her first morning statement made me smile. Hatta had told her yesterday he would take her this year to an event with Ray Rice, her favorite football player, so she could have her picture taken with him. There was discussion about the level of bravery needed in that scenario. She was photographed with Clifford the Big Red Dog during Halloween and standing in front of Santa a few weeks ago; I was confident she could do it. And, obviously, so was she. Finally, my little girl was learning the advantages of being brave. Maybe, just maybe, she's learning to dance.

Dazed and Confused

I am too tired to write.

I know I said I wasn't going to give any more excuses for not writing, but I swear, this time it's different. See...I'm writing. Even though I'm so tired my brain is jello, I'm still stringing together letters to make words. Promise kept.

Alice is killing me. Slowly but surely. Autocorrect suggested surly instead, which may be appropriate too.

She's been having bad dreams. I suppose I would have patience for them if they were truly bad dreams, but I kind of feel they are merely less than stellar dreams. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your pink and purple heart Vans being tagless does not constitute a bad dream. It doesn't warrant crying and yet she was. Scream crying in the middle of the night because her shoes didn't have a tag. What tag? I don't have a clue what she's talking about. Yet, I was awake to ponder the thought.

I was awake to listen to the coughing, too. The rediculous coughing. Fifteen minutes of coughing, twenty minutes of rest. Ten minutes of coughing, fifteen minutes of rest. Ten more minutes of coughing, hour of rest. All freaking night long like this. I might have been more sympathetic and motherly if I wasn't already sleep deprived from the previous nights. All she got from me was "Go to the bathroom and get a drink of water, Alice." I vaguely remember telling her to get up and go play even though it was only five o'clock in the morning. Not exactly a shining moment in mom history.

Tonight I will sleep, damn it. I'm making Hatta buy Vicks Vapo-Rub as we speak, hopefully that will calm the coughing from her cold. I'm going to bed early. No Monday night football for me. Hell, I may even drug myself for a restful eight hours of sleep. As I tell a childless friend of mine, if you like sleeping don't ever, ever, ever, ever have kids.

Co-Sleeping

The time has come. You may recall a few posts ago where I couldn't decide what to write about. Today, I feel it's appropriate to tell the other story.

For a moment I would like to address the Judgey McJudgerson's. Hi. If you don't mind, today's post isn't for you. If you regard yourself as a perfect parent, a super mom perhaps, may I kindly ask you to visit my older posts or another blogger entirely. Just for today. I'm sure tomorrow's post will be much more appropriate. I will welcome you back with open arms. See, today's topic is a bit personal. You understand, right?

I've been hesitant to write this post. As a parent, teaching your child to sleep is one of your first tasks. And many would say I've failed. At this very moment, Alice is fast asleep in my bed. This morning she woke up in my bed. The night before, my bed. The night before the night before, my bed. Sensing the pattern? I will stand sorta-kinda proudly and say, "My four year old sleeps in my bed."

Now that that's over, let me start at the beginning. As a newborn, Alice couldn't sleep alone. I tried night after night, nap after nap. It just didn't happen. She would either wake as soon as you laid her down or within a short period of time. She'd sleep fine in your arms or snuggled next to you. Anything else was not acceptable to her and, sadly, I was not a proponent of the cry it out method. I tried and tried, at Hatta's persistence, to transition her to the co-sleeper every night after she woke for a middle of the night feeding. Until that one night when I didn't. Snuggled next to me in bed, I latched on a hungry Alice and my exhausted postpartum eyes closed and remained closed. When I woke up several hours later, it was a total hallelujah moment. Finally, her and I both slept peacefully. Out of sheer desperation, I was hooked. Hatta, not so much. I did research, forwarded pages for him to read, tried my best to convince him if we co-slept smartly it was going to be okay. And it was.

Fast forward four years. Up until now, Alice hasn't slept in my bed consistently since the newborn phase. She transitioned to her crib for a period of time, then into the toddler bed. However, sleep has always been a struggle for Alice. I've googled, read books, and followed fellow mom's advice. Nothing seemed to work. Try as I might, I've rarely been able to convince Alice to spend an entire night in her bed. She'd fall asleep in her bed and when she woke at 3 or 4am 5 or 6am she'd toddle into my bed. This worked for Hatta and I. It seemed the lesser of the evils.

Until the damn bug entered the picture. About six weeks ago, during nap time, a fly entered Alice's room. It's not hard, there's a skylight in her room and she still doesn't have a door. Flys can come and go as they please. But, see, Alice has a bug phobia (that I promise I will post about soon. Any day. It's coming.) A harmless house fly or fruit fly is anything but simple to her. It's devastating and all, "Mama! Mama! A bug in my room! Eeeeee!! Hurry! MAMA! OH...EEE...MAAAAMA!" Ever since, she won't sleep in her room. The fly is long gone. Died of natural causes by now and, yet, she's still terrified to be alone at bedtime in her room. She tells everyone about the bug. I've given up. I willingly let her start out in my bed every night now.

Ah, but there's an end in sight. School starts soon. Have I mentioned preschool starts soon and I'm really, super, uber excited? Oh. Right. I've mentioned that. Anyway, school starts soon and guess who goes to preschool. Big girls, that's who! And guess what big girls do. Sleep in big girl beds! You see where I'm going with this? Yep. I've had the talk with Alice about school and big girls and sleeping in their own mother effing beds...maybe not in those exact words. Now, not only is Alice petrified of bugs, but she's dreading school, too. I foresee a few rough nights coming up in my future. Can't wait!






The courage for this post where I out myself for allowing my four year to sleep in my bed has been brought to you by The Honest Toddler. I realize I'm not alone in the big bed saga. Thank you.