Houston, we have a sleeper!

Well, first I guess I need to apologize?  I've been a *little* busy these past few months with no time for blogging.  But, then again aren't we all busy?  So, I know you understand. 

Mirabella has been an excellent baby.  Very sweet. Perfect addition to our family.  After our third child who was not a good sleeper (though a sweet boy!), it has been a RELIEF to have our sweet Bella (the 4th child) who enjoys her sleep.  

Well, except for last week. And the week before. And the week before that. She was sick the first two weeks of this poor sleep trend. Last week we were transitioning her from her bassinet in our room to her own room in her crib where her parents were starting to need to sleep like statues and not move a single muscle or she'd wake up.  She didn't like her crib at first, but we are relieved to have some kind of consistency for about 4 or 5 nights now.  *crossing fingers*

And, this process along with a conversation with someone the other night reminded me of a time when we were transitioning our third child (who did not sleep for more than 5 hours in a row for the first 19 months of his life...) to his crib.  

And THAT is what inspired me to blog again.  Weird, huh?  It was just like-
Bam! This should be a blog post.  So, here it is.

The only reason this story can be a blog post now is because we can now laugh about it.  It was not really funny for a very long time, but we can now laugh.  I wouldn't ever wish it to happen again, but now it is a tiny moment in our history.  Or, should I say my history.  My husband was sleeping.  Rare at the time but needed. 

He was working a full time job in a school and a part time job as a youth pastor.  The strangest things happen when you first become a youth pastor.  There's this sort of initiation.  It's the kind that kids give their substitute teachers only worse.  This one was in a string of many incidents that almost always involved our second car, markers, and sometimes saran wrap. What the teens never realized is that it never truly affected my husband.  He really didn't care that his car's windows had words written in window markers even if there was misspelling involved.  He didn't even care about the saran wrap and the vaseline they used to make it stick.  Even the litter from the saran wrap containers in the yard were not even a cause of concern for him. He didn't like it, but he was a good sport.  To be honest, I didn't care about any of these things either.

(Well, except the time I had to take his car to a business meeting last minute and there was nonsense written all over the windows.  I have to admit- I was annoyed because I was concerned it could affect my success at that meeting.)  Anyway, there was really only ONE thing that bothered me about this kind of strange torture done to the undeserving Toyota Corolla.  This was my baby at the time who hardly slept a wink.  And, my dogs who at the time barked at every. single. sound. coming form the backyard.  

One night in a time thankfully far away, I was rocking my little sleepless baby boy.  My husband was asleep. He needed to sleep as juggling two jobs was taking a toll on him.  I was rocking the baby, nursing the baby, singing to the baby, and everything else imaginable to help this child sleep.  It was late.  I don't remember what time, but I'm thinking it was after 11pm on a weekend night.  The baby started to doze off.  I had the movement perfected so that I didn't step on any parts of the floor that would squeak while rocking.  Miraculously, his body was feeling limp.  I didn't want to get overly excited yet.  I stayed focused. Finally, I leaned over the crib placing him in the crib, my hands still under his body and cradling him. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter it seemed I was able to get free. Miraculously, he didn't wake up. Hallelujah! I wanted to shout it from the mountaintops, but reality set in. I wasn't out o the woods yet. It was an old house, and though I had pretty much memorized which places in the floor would creak, I hadn't slept for a long time. This fact alone could foil the entire operation. I breathed in quietly and started my exit from the baby's room treated each step as a potential trip wire that could activate the baby's alarming cry. I couldn't believe it. Was it really happening? I could see the light from the hallway and flawlessly escaped the room without a single cry. Maybe, this was the beginning of a new era where sleep would be possible! Briefly I started imagining the possibilities...

And, then, the dogs heard something. Something unfamiliar like the sound of teenage girls trying to be quiet. The whole house erupted in a cacophony of barking that only my two pugs could create. The baby immediately woke up crying uncontrollably. And, thus began another very long night for the books for a very tired mommy.<sigh> 

So, what's funny about this?? Not very much except for the crazy lengths that parents go through to get some sleep.;) 

*Disclaimer: Despite the horror of not sleeping from the countless past pranks of certain teenage girls, I still love those girls regardless. :)  One person who led most of the pranks actually bought the outfit for my sweet baby in the picture on this page, and she is a special part of my life. I might have some pranks in mind for her  when she has children however.;)  

A Lover AND a Fighter

All children are different.  They are people, not cut-outs from a factory.  They get their "labels," because of the things that make them stand out.  Especially in a family unit.  There are the good labels like: 

The smart one.

The sweet one. 

The funny one. 

The lovable one.

The talented one.

The coordinated one.

Then, there are the not-so-nice labels.  As parents we never want to say things like, "Why can't you ______ like your sibling?"  As a matter-of-fact, many of us make die-hard vows to ourselves to never utter such words.  We may think it in our heads, but we try our hardest not to allow such words to part from our lips.  We know we can't take those words back, and quite possibly those words could scar our children for life.  Or something like that.

This brings me to the subject of sleeping.

With my first two children, truly I thought that I had discovered some super-secret to getting my children to sleep through the night.  Really, it was simple.  I needed to tell everyone, because surely it would solve all of their children's sleeping issues as well.  I read it all in a book, and it worked.  I had uncovered some amazing secret that truly helped children to sleep through the night.  For my first two children... 

Then, came my third child: The rule-breaker to my little system, which I thought had been perfected like a well-oiled machine. Lovable as he was, he fought sleep.  I wanted to burn that wretched book that had made me a self-proclaimed "expert" on getting my first two children to sleep. My son fought sleep from the very beginning, and he still fights it now- four years later.  

Don't get me wrong: He is lover. Sweet, endearing, lovable, and more.

But, it would be dishonest for me to not tell you that with everything within him when it comes to sleep: 

He is a fighter.

I won't bore you with the lists of things that my husband and I tried to do to train our son to sleep, but it was not pretty.  Even when we found his intolerance to certain foods, there was not a simple fix for his sleeping issues.  

For the first 19 months, he did not sleep more than two hours in a row during the night.  This was a very humbling experience in my life.  One expects to be sleep deprived for the first few months of a baby's life, but even in my wildest dreams I could not imagine that it would take 19 months for my son to "sleep through the night" especially since I couldn't even get him to sleep during the day.  And, by "sleep through the night," I mean sleep five hours in a row.  It wouldn't be until he was 2 years-old that he and I would get a full 10-12 hours of sleep at night.  And, day time naps... Well, let's just say that when he has ever taken a 2 hour nap, it is rare and usually turns out that he is sick. 

In my head, I like to think that the reason he doesn't sleep well is because he's so smart.  Yes.  That's it. ;)  It's true that when he was a little over a year old, I asked him (jokingly,) "Are you a genius?"  and instead of repeating me he said, "I'm a genius!"  Then, he would randomly repeat that phrase to strangers for many, many months, because he does have an amazing memory.  Very impressive, but still no cause to think that he actually is a genius. 

And, even if he is, I am resolved: 

Geniuses still need their sleep.  

We have transitioned him finally to his "big boy bed."  Now, you may think that at age 4 it is a little old to have still been in a crib, but you must remember that he didn't get much use out of that crib for the first 19 months. Plus, my husband and I don't make tall children. Really.  It's true. Height does not run in our family, and it makes pregnancy much easier. ;) I knew that breaking his ever-so-delicate routine of sleep by moving him to his new bed would cause much grief for me and untold times of sleeplessness for both of us. It would be a new kind of frustration as he is older and still fighting sleep, and I am pregnant and need my sleep.  I was not happy about making this transition, but alas it needed to be done.  After all, his baby sister is due to arrive in a few months, and it is my genuine hope that she is not a rule-breaker like her older brother when it comes to this precious area of sleep.

But, the truth is that I am a fighter, too. 

I will fight for him to sleep.  It is challenging, but I will fight for him to sleep because he needs it to grow healthy and strong.  

I fight for his sleep, because I am a lover.  

I love my sleep.

   (Oh, and I love my little boy, too. :) )

~Michelle

P.S. If he is indeed a genius and does something truly amazing with his life, it is my dream that he gets me an amazing bed.  That is, after he buys himself an amazing bed, because geniuses need their sleep, too. :) 

And then the baby sleeps, so i stay up worrying...sounds about right.

Last night was a poop sandwich. Eloquent, i know. It just was. Little cranky-muffin was up every hour on the hour...crying...i would get up, do the Mom thing (yes, this means still nursing an almost 18 month old, whatevs), put her down, tip-toe out of the room....literally whispering to myself, "please leave me alone now", then i proceeded to trip over the shopping cart the husband said we HAD to buy her. Just because she was cute pushing it at Target.

The cart and blurry #5

Then, *stand still, not breathing*....nothing noise-wise from the crib, i continue stealthily out of the room. Slloooooowly shut the door, go climb into bed. Husband explodes from a certain end. Mmm-hmm. Then i'm laying there, gagging, and squishing my eyes shut, trying to make myself go to sleep really fast.

Cranky-muffin is silent....i can sleep....Then it happens. The thinking. Did i pay whatever bill yet? (um, yeah, no, i did not) Cold wash of fear as i think that i totally did not buy curriculum for the next school year yet either. Are they at grade level? Maybe we should do school through the summer....Why did i say no to coloring with 6yr old? What was i even doing that was so important today! JUST COLOR WITH HER! Why did i angrily react to son re-enacting the entire Phillies game for me and saying, "right, mom? right?", about 50 thousand times? Who cares, he just wanted to talk and tell me about something he loves. Argh. Oh man, i know didn't spend enough time with 11yr old daughter, who will soon (because of me not spending time with her) not be interested in spending time with me, and will then spin in a downward circle of drug use and alcoholism. All because i didn't hang out with her, and talk about her favorite part in The Hunger Games. For the 800th time. My 8yr old daughter will surely grow up thinking she was unloved...because she is the quiet one, the one who does not get into trouble...so sometimes, i'm like, "wait...where IS she?"...and she's doing cartwheels in the backyard. And....here's the big one. I don't talk about God enough with them. We don't spend enough time reading the Bible, learning more, memorizing verses...we just don't. It's all my fault.

Why does night bring on this immense guilt about how i spent my day? So much so, that i can't even sleep! I started thinking about how last year at the pool we go to, a boy slipped on the high dive and fell into the pool - JUST missing the cement. And how that could have been my boy. And what if he falls today? What if he dies? And all i did was get annoyed with him, tell him to stop being loud, and i didn't kiss his sweaty boy face and hold his sweaty boy hand at night when we prayed, because he has driven me insane all day, and i just want it OVER with....i just want them all to go to bed, because i am "off the clock" mentally. I laid there crying. No joke. Just doing that silent, shaky, sobbing thing - my ears were full of tears, wet hair, wet pillow. Yikes. Good times.

But how do you do it....how do you live every day, every minute, in a loving way towards your kids? I WANT TO! i do. I love them more than anything. They are each a miracle, amazing, special...But wow. It is a really hard part of life! But i waaaaant to *whining*. I want to be that Mom, who is interested in everything, hugs constantly, never is short with the kids, never just goes, "yeah", or "mm-hmm" in THAT voice....you know the one. The kind of high, placating tone that your Mom might have made those same noises to YOU in as a kid...i just want to be present, you know? Enjoy them, where they are, in the moment. Not say, "ok, in a minute" - which i totally just said because 6yr old "needs" hot tea. :/ If something happens to me, i want them to remember i loved them SO much...not that i was some lady who screamed all the time. So that's it for now. I just want to work on this part of me...but i also want them to go to bed at 8:30pm and not speak to me until 8:30am. Hmm....
~Sue