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.

Day One = Success

Good morning, fine friends. I really mean that. It is a good morning. Isn't that fantastic?!

It started out rough. I pulled a Hatta and realized 10 minutes into the drive I had left my phone at home. I contemplated taking one for the team and doing without for a few days. That could be fun, right? I hear how wonderful and freeing it is to disconnect and genuinely be present in your life for a change. Then it dawned on me, whoever said that was a moron. I needed my phone now more than ever. I quickly had us turned around and headed back home. Conveniently, Alice began complaining of a stomach ache. She wanted to poop. A 20 minute pit stop, complete with phrases like, "I can't keep pushing. The poop needs to catch its breath," and we were on our way again.

The drive turned out exactly how I expected. Alice was tired and refused to sleep. I was accused of fondling my leather wrapped steering wheel. We had to stop more times than I can bring myself to admit making the drive at least 30 minutes longer than necessary...not including my cellphone screw up. Eventually we arrived at the beach, mostly unscathed.

I shit you not, Hatta had a Summer Shandy in my hand within 3 minutes of walking in the front door. He's a standup guy like that. From that moment on, life was good. We quickly had beers in a cooler, swimsuits donned, and our bodies on the boat headed to the bay.

Something happens to me every time I'm on a boat. I'm reminded this is the one place I feel at home. I suppose it's the way some people feel when they eat a familiar food or visit a town from a past life, transported back to the comfort of your childhood. With my mother no longer alive, many of those old comforts trigger sad feelings for me. Except the boat. There's something about being on the water, the salt air blowing through my hair that makes me feel my childhood. Driving through the inlet, remembering all the times we would come to this spot to greet my father, a waterman, as he returned home after a week long trip. We would wave and jump up and down, he would sound the horn, knowing we would finally get to see each other again.

So, yeah, I was enjoying myself. We spent a few hours anchored at what turned out to be our very own private beach. I spent a few hours doing absolutely nothing and it was awesome. I drank. I sunbathed. I watched my daughter from a distance. I willingly played beer wench for Hatta as he fished. I would have breathtaking pictures to post for you...but I forgot my phone, again.

Hell Weekend Do-Over

I'm a glutton for punishment. It's the only logical explanation. You recall hell weekend, right? I've agreed to a do-over.

Shaking my head in disbelief.

Tomorrow morning we will load beach chairs and sand toys, suitcases and duffle bags into my new car (yup, I finally got the new car. Another post, another day.) I will drive us nearly three hours to attempt to have a relaxing few days.

I used to be a faithful Oprah viewer and I can still hear her, "When you know better, you do better." I'm not sure if this exactly falls under that quote, but I know better than to expect the next few days to be a breeze. In order to fully embrace realism, I give to you my expectations for the next few days.

• I expect Alice to force herself to stay awake on the ride to the beach. We will leave home at nap time and do everything under the sun to provide optimal sleeping conditions. She still will not sleep. Hatta and I will threaten severe punishment if she doesn't allow her body to fall asleep. No nap will be taken by Alice. She will start our "vacation" tired and irritable. Hatta and I will start our "vacation" stressed and on edge.
• Alice will not eat for two and a half days. Food will be prepared for her that isn't identical in color, texture, and consistency to the foods I prepare for her at home. Family members will beg Alice to eat, convincing her that she is running the show and calling the shots. I will spend double the days when we return home reminding Alice that she is in fact NOT in charge.
• Sleep will be lost. Alice will stay up too late and wake up too early. Unfortunately, the same will be true for Hatta and I. Sleep deprived Alice will become grumpier and bossier as the days pass. I will spend an equal number of days trying to help her catch up on sleep when we return home.

Oh friends, I think I'm having my very own Aha! moment right this second. Pertaining to this trip, I think I fully understand the quote. I know better than to expect this trip to go smoothly, so I won't. I will not stress about it. I know how it's going to shake down, why do I get upset when it goes exactly how I predicted?

So let me try again, now that I'm all enlightened and shit. My expectations for the next few days...

• I will enjoy the long drive in my new car. I will caress the new leather and learn the feel of all the buttons. I will provide Alice with hours of video to watch in hopes of not hearing a peep out of her.
• I will eat well. Screw everyone else!
• I will sunbath on the beach and allow everyone else to ensure Alice's safety.
• I will drink good beer and wine. No Coors light and Ménage a Trois Red for me.
• I will drink good beer and wine often.
• I will drink a lot of good beer and wine.

Wish me luck!

Time Out-Side

To be a good parent, my methods constantly have to evolve. As my darling daughter grows, I have to adapt to keep ahead of the madness. When I find myself shrieking obscenities, mostly in my head of course, it's time to reevaluate.

Last Friday was spent reevaluating. Alice was fresh off an I'm-sick-and-I-can-do-anything-I-want high. She walked around like she was queen of the castle and I was her lowly servant. Demanding tv at all times of the day. Eating when and what she felt like with no regard for the schedule. And the screaming. Ooh the screaming! Choice word being NO!! Not like a two year old who says it because it's novel and fun. Rather because I piss her off with my rules. How dare I try to control her and the things that go on in my house! Just who the hell do I think I am!

Traditional time outs weren't working. Removing privileges didn't bother her. I was forced to think outside the box on this one, outside the house maybe. In my head, I pondered the genius idea, my evil hands rubbing back and forth. I may have even cackled a time or two. My desperation had caused me to sink to a new low. I was going to use my knowledge of Alice's fear of bugs to my advantage. I don't think I've covered Alice's bug phobia yet, have I? She has an extremely grand, unwarranted, debilitating fear of bugs. It's so gargantuan it deserves it's own post. Soon, I promise. Anyway, I know that Alice hates being on the back porch by herself. You know, those man-eating flies. I've threatened before to stick her out back like I do with the dog when she's plucking my nerves. (I seem to compare my child to the dog a lot. Maybe I should reflect and get to the bottom of this.) The time had come to stop threatening and follow through. The next high pitch "NO!" she belted out and I was off. I took her by the arm, said nothing, put her on the back porch and shut the door. For a few glorious moments it was silent. When reality of her predicament settled in, the tears and the pleas to be let back inside started. She quickly waved the white flag, begging to be given a second chance, all the while looking back at the porch in fear of the imaginary bugs that were obviously coming to get her.

I had won. I wasn't proud of my below-the-belt tactics, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Eventually I hope she will want to be kind because it's the right thing to do, it's who we strive to be. Until that day comes, I'm okay with her choosing to be good to avoid consequences. And if I have to, I can ride the bug phobia for a very long time. Rest assured, dear Alice, juvenile detention center's are laden with insects.