Sleep Schmeep

I'm surprised that this is my first sleep related post, since, as every parent knows, sleep and poop instantly become the two most important things in your life the moment jr. is born...oh, and the baby, he's important too. I've already written about poop, so now I guess it's time for sleep.

Darling Daughter is 33 months old (I plan on stating her age in months until she's at least 216 months old), in non-mom terms, that's floating between 2.5 and 3 years old. She spent the first 10 months of her life sleeping only when latched on, and lying next to me. That's right folks, I could put her down for a 20 minute nap by herself, or I could lie with her and nurse her through a 3 hour nap. Needless to say, during that 10 months, I read a lot of e-books, I also watched all of Grey's Anatomy, Glee, 1/2 a season of Lost (really couldn't get that into Lost...why was that show so popular?...it was weird), the first season of Downton Abbey, and an untold number of movies on my phone. This was exhausting in a way that only a parent (or I suppose an invalid) can understand. To be lying in a bed essentially waiting to be allowed to get up while a bajillion things are screaming to be done in (and out of) the house wears a person down to a nub, only vaguely resembling the vibrant, sexy woman she used to be (or at least liked to imagine herself being).

When that nonsense came to a stop, we had pretty smooth sailing for about 5 months. During those months, I learned how to lie next to her, nursing, until she was out, then unlatch, turn into the blob, and slither out of the bed without disturbing her or the mattress in the slightest. It was a magical time. She was still co-sleeping at night, but didn't usually wake until 6:30 or 7 am, that was positively lovely for a family that typically hit the sack no later than 8:30 pm. No really...it was magical.

Then, as she transitioned herself from our bed to her own big girl bed (self-high-five!), we were again, sitting pretty, 1-2 decent naps a day, 10-12 hours of nighttime sleep, a few nursing sessions thrown in each night, but really, she was a rockstar! (Take that! Jerks who gave us crap for co-sleeping).

But, then, I made the biggest mistake any parent can make, I got cocky. I started to feel like I knew it all, like I had figured out this sleeping thing and all those other folks who's kids were night-terrors were just doing it wrong.

Darling Daughter was quick to correct my arrogance.

She started waking, daily, between 3:45 and 4:30 am. Yes, waking!! this wasn't, "I'm awake, but still tired and needing some cuddles before I'll crash for another 90 minutes." This was full fledged, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, middle of the GD night, but late enough for the day to begin, awake. I don't have much to say about this time, as it's mostly an agonizing blur of agony on which I prefer not to dwell due to the agony. All I will say is that it lasted about 6 months, 6 horrible months that I will never get back.

Now we're in a pretty good place. The kind of place where you absolutely cannot rock the boat (we learned this the hard way by trying to get her out of pullups at night...baaaaddd idea). I've learned to schedule her almost to the minute, and she now naps reliably, and sleeps at least 9-11 hours a night. We do have the occasional 5:30 am wake up, but it typically precedes a decent nap. Which leads me to my one complaint, naps.

Now, she goes down great, usually only sings/plays/chants/chats to herself for 30 minutes or so, then she's out. Great, but, I have absolutely no way of knowing when she will wake up. This makes it nearly impossible to employ the nap in any sort of profitable way. Sometimes she'll be up, perky and sparkling after just 90 minutes, other times I'm sitting staring at the monitor after 4+ hours, trying to see if she's still breathing. And isn't that just the catch? Either she's soundly sleeping and any disturbance would instantly wake her in the crankiest of states, or something has gone horribly awry, either way, if I walk into that room, my day is ruined. So instead of finally taking on the bathroom grout, or sewing all the cloth wipes I need to sew before Darling Daughter 2.0 arrives, I end up watching 6 episodes of Toddlers in Tiaras because I'd rather have to turn that off when she wakes up, than stow some huge, uncompleted, project.

I'm sure when she stops napping altogether, things will be much easier....n't

As a side sleep-note, if you don't have a video monitor on your child, get one! These things are awesome, and you learn a lot. Turns out, DD wasn't actually falling asleep at 7:15 every night, she was just lying quietly in bed playing with her stuffed orca, or picking her nose. This little stinker doesn't ever fall asleep before 8 or 8:30...and we're often out before her. The more you know!

Toddler Physics

We all know that toddlers come with their own set of rules for how the world works.

• It is ok to dip melon in ketchup and ranch before eating
• It is ok to say, "I don't like you." to anyone who has displeased you, or just breathed wrong
• It is ok to wake up before 6 am
• It is ok to wake up before 5 am
• It is ok to wake up before any normal human being should ever voluntarily wake

These are all well known rules. But did you know that toddlers come with their own physics? If you have a toddler, you probably do, for the childless amongst us, let me enlighten you with a comparison of some of the major laws of physics and the Toddler Laws of Physics.

• The Law of Gravity explains the attractive force between a pair of masses.

• The Toddler Law of Gravity states:  There is none, until it kicks your ass. Toddlers can climb, jump, scale, or teeter, across, along, or up anything until they can't, then they can't....hard! 

• The Law of Conservation of Energy states: The total energy in a closed or isolated system is constant, no matter what happens. 

• The Toddler Law of Energy Conservation states: The total energy in a toddler system will exponentially increase until something breaks, or he has a melt down, then the energy will exhibit a sudden and precipitous drop.

• The Law of Conservation of Momentum states: The total momentum in a closed or isolated system remains constant. 

• See the Toddler law of energy conservation above.

Ok, so that gives you an idea of what I'm talking about, but here's the one that makes me question Newton, Einstein, and Hawking's scientific legitimacy...or at least their thoroughness in having obviously not researched Toddler Physics even a little bit.

• The Law of Conservation of Mass states: The mass in an isolated system is constant.

This is complete and total bullshit, as anyone who has ever tried to remove a toddler from a carseat, chair, swing, floor, or any other surface, from which he or she does not wish to be removed, knows.

• The Toddler Law of Conservation of Mass states: Toddlers have the uncanny (and mildly disturbing) ability to significantly, and instantly, increase their own mass.

In my extensive studies over the course of 2.5 years, I have learned that this final law of Toddler Physics can, and is, employed at will. I am currently researching whether or not this law has an impact on the Toddler Law of Gravity, as it seems that the resistant child can also strongly influence the pull an object exerts on his body, further complicating the attempted extraction. More information on this as my research proceeds.

I Meed Pants!

So, I'm 7 months pregnant, which has a whole slew of hilarious stories to go along with it, but today, we're going to talk about pants.  Specifically, my desperate need for, and inability to acquire, pants. Here's the deal...

If you have kids, you know that buying new clothes for yourself is not a priority. For me, that means my extremely limited wardrobe consists primarily of t-shirts I bought at Costco, four different colors of the same shirt I found at Kohl's, a sequined tank top I bought for a party once, a single 6-year-old dress for the occasional night out, a half dozen pairs of high heals that I haven't even touched since 2010, a pair of Chuck Taylors, and a pair of rubber boots (we do live in the country, in Washington state, the boots are unavoidable). I also have 3 pairs of jeans, and a drawer full of paint-spattered t-shirts and novelty t's (from that muddy 5K I ran last year) that are exclusively used for working outdoors or sleeping.

When I'm pregnant, this modest trousseau gets even sadder, I now have 6 maternity shirts (mostly donated by friends who actually bought maternity clothes), 4 gorgeous dresses that I will never wear (I say this is because they are summer dresses, but really it's because the friends I got them from are tiny, even when pregnant, and tiny is not a claim I can make, so they make my thighs look like I'm smuggling a couple of roasts out of Safeway), and the two pairs of pants I acquired during my first pregnancy. One of these is a pair of jeans, the other is a pair of corduroys that are about 2 inches too short and fall down all the damn time!!!

I'm content with this collection, as I have never been one to turn up my nose at donated duds, and I am, by no means, a fashion maven, so really, it's cool, except, two pairs of pants, just isn't enough. Especially if there's a particularly messy preschool day, or the Little Girl has a potty accident in my lap. If anything like that happens, and it's more than 2 days until laundry day, I'm screwed. Luckily, one of my friends had a baby 4 months ago, and she's been promising me her maternity stash since then!

Saweet!! There's got to be at least one or two pairs of pants in there, I can hold out!

(I know some of you are thinking, "why doesn't she just go buy some new pants??" I'm getting to that part)

So, my friend and I get together for a visit and she gives me a HUGE bag of clothes (this friend is a model, no, for reals, so I always assume that at least 30% of what she gives me is either way too small, or way too cool for me). In the bag is one precious pair of jeans, they're skinny jeans, and that makes me almost immediately break out in hives, but beggars can't be choosers and shit...right? I want to try them on right away (I'm wearing the crappy cords that day) but I wait until I get home (thank god!!). After getting Little Girl down for her nap, I waddle upstairs as fast as I can and whip out my new fancy preggo pants!

As I slip my legs in, I think,

"Dang, these are a little snug."

But they don't seem much worse than any pair of jeans fresh out of the dryer, so I soldier on, as I get them over my roasts...er...thighs, it becomes apparent that they are pretty darn snug, but I'm an optimist, so I press forward, then it happens. As I'm doing the squat (you know the, these jeans are a little tight, but I know they fit so let me just squat and pull to get them over the rump squat?) I hear the sound of a thousand 20 year old me's crying out in agony, the sound of all the "just a few" chocolate chips, the sound every woman dreads, but few actually hear...the RIP! That's right friends, I split the jeans. Not just a little "oops, I can sew that up in a jiffy" hole, we're talking an 8" whopper of a gaping maw right along the inside of my right thigh.

:-|

When my husband gets home, I hand him Little Girl, and a can of soup for dinner. I grab the keys, and head out the door. Time for some new pants. I avoided this up until now because I loathe spending money on clothes I'm literally going to wear for 6-8 weeks of my life...it pisses me off, but, desperate times.

First I hit Kohl's. (I love Kohl's, and never get to go because I'm a mom and I don't shop for myself) After walking around the store for a good 10 minutes, I finally ask where the maternity department is.

"I'm sorry, we got rid of the maternity department."
"You're kidding me."
"No, sorry, but we have that kiosk over there, you could order something online"
"But then I can't try it on."
"No, you can't, but you can return it here if it doesn't fit."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Thanks."

Ok, fine, Kohl's doesn't want my big-bellied-business, that's just fine, I'll try Fred Meyer.

Same damn story!!!!

Apparently, all the pregnant women have clothes now, so stores don't need to carry them. And no, ordering online is not an option, because things never look the same when you get them, and I have long legs and simply must try things on and damnit!!!.......

I walk around Fred Meyer crying for 10 minutes before I finally give up and drive home. (Give me a break, my brain is steeped in hormones and my pants keep falling down, you'd cry too)

Ok, that's fine, I can survive with two pairs of pants, it's only 6-8 more weeks, I can totally do this. Except, because I have to keep pulling the damn cords up, in the last week they have developed a "tug" hole right below the waist band, so if I'm not careful, my underwear (which I refuse to replace until after the baby is born) shows. So....one pair of pants is enough right??

I wonder if people would look at me funny if I just wore my husbands pajama pants everywhere.

Promises

I make a lot of promises, I think that's part of the job really. We're not talking about, "I promise you" promises, we're talking about the kind where you just have to keep your word. Some of them I do keep, some I wish I could keep, and some, I INSTANTLY regret.

The promises I keep are usually the ones that are preceded by the most forethought. For instance, Little Girl and I were at the grocery store last week and the following exchange occurred:

"Mama can I look at those...fings?"

She was pointing at those big round lollipops they have at the checkout. You know, the multicolored kid-magnet display that boasts 1" diameter, jawbreaker-style sugar-bombs on a stick. The kind that are so attractive, they even draw my child, who's had exactly 2 lollipops in her life, but who knows anything that pretty has to be tasty. Yeah, those.

"Sure you can."

I believe in letting her see things and teaching her that it's ok to not have everything. This approach has yielded mixed results.

"Mama, they're pretty, can I pick one?"

"No baby, they are pretty, but they are a treat and we're not going to get one."

Brace for impact Mama...

"Ok, we can save them for another day."

Cue choir of angels!!

Now all I want to do is give her the lollipop...give her all the lollipops...in the world! But that won't do, so I make a promise.

Play it cool Mama...

"Yeah, we will get one another time, you can pick one."

This accomplishes 3 things. One, I've managed some semblance of consistency. Two, it gives me an opportunity to reinforce her good choice be rewarding it at a later date. Three, I get to give her a lollipop. Which was awesome a few days later!

The second type of promise, those I wish I could keep, are usually the ones that run into outside interference.

"We'll go to the park tomorrow."

*Torrential rain all day*

"You can have an apple when we get home."

*Dada took the last apple to work this morning*

"Sure, you can wear your doggy jammies tonight."

*They're at the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper*

I hate when the Universe makes a liar out of me. It's so important to me that she be able to trust my word that it breaks my heart to chip away at that trust.

This is the part where I recognize my pathological need to never screw up as a parent, and the inevitability of me doing so...but that doesn't make it any easier.

The third type of promise, those I INSTANTLY regret, are almost always made with zero forethought. These are the "threat" promises. You know, the ones you wish you could suck back in before you're even through spewing them. The backfire ones. The ones you are mortified by at the park because other parents hear them, and which make your face contort in agony as you're making them....

"If you don't get your leotard on, we're not going to ballet."
"Ok, I don't want ballet!"
shit!

or this one...

"Stop throwing your jammies around, or I'm taking them all away and you won't have any jammies!"
Wait, whaaa???

Or how about...

"If you get down from the table, then we're going downstairs for bedtime."
It's 5:37 pm....shit shit!

Or my favorite...

"If you keep stepping on your books, then you won't be allowed to have them anymore."
W....T.....F!!!!!!!??????

The only benefit to these sorts of promises is that, quite often, they're so severe (see insane), that she immediately hops to it and I don't have to follow through on banning apples from the house, or making our cat live outside forever. I'd love to learn how to think before I speak more often, but I will say, the look on my husband's face when I threaten to shave her head is pretty priceless...perhaps, almost worth it.

What's the worst/best promise you've made to your kids?