Man, was I ever dumb.
Not that I'm rolling in the neurons now. But especially as a new parent. I owned every "What to Expect Book" there was:
'What to Expect When You're Expecting'
'What To Expect the First Year'
'What to Expect When You're A Neurotic Parent and You're Driving Everyone Crazy'
'What to Expect When Your Baby Has a Slight Case of Jaundice Which is Totally Treatable and Not Really a Big Deal but You're Hysterical and Slumped in the Hallway Sobbing by the Vending Machines'
I'm telling you, I had all of them. I remember my mom visiting me and newborn Jack and she told me that I read too much. Bear in mind, this is a well-read woman. She loves books. We all do. We buy them for each other and loan them and talk about them over dessert. And here she was, telling me to stop reading.
But I really couldn't help it. In fact, when I was first pregnant with Jack, all shiny and full of hope (no really, I was shiny. My face was all oily and stuff), I even wrote out a daily schedule with all the vitamins and minerals I would need for a healthy pregnancy.
I can't hardly type that without simultaneously wanting to laugh at my old self and slap her for being so insufferable.
My plans included lots and lots of leafy greens, a colorful array of vegetables, lean protein, and, of course, a prenatal vitamin with folic acid.
And then I ended up throwing up so hard and often that nothing would stay down and I would burst the blood vessels in my eyes.
Despite my best intentions, nacho cheese Doritos are the ONLY thing I could keep down. So that's how Jack was made - with love, good intentions, and lots of Doritos.
If you're wondering when the sleeping part comes in, I'm getting there. Sometimes I ramble but that's most likely due to the high amounts of artificially cheese-flavored processed snacks I consumed a decade ago.
In the years since I first became a parent, I've had to let go of the high expectations I had of my parenting skills. It's now more a matter of survival than it is excellence.
So this is the difference between getting my first-born to sleep as a toddler/preschooler and getting my last-born to sleep (This is Noah; I do realize that Tali is my last baby but she came to us a great sleeper, probably more the result of not having enough help during the night at the orphanage and kids just learned to sleep).
Where Does Baby Sleep?
First Child
He slept in my arms because he fussed when I put him down (in his perfectly SIDS-safe crib without blankets and bumpers). Jack wore a sleep sack for both easy access for nighttime diaper changes as well as warmth without the use of frowned-upon blankets. We had a baby monitor for awhile and I would lay awake, wide-eyed, straining to listen to it, on the rare times he slept in his crib. Just in case the monitor was lying about my baby sleeping soundly, I would jump out out of bed throughout the night and put my shaking hand to his chest to make sure he was breathing. Sometimes, if I was feeling all-the-way crazy, I would wake him up, just to assure myself that he was, in fact, alive. He only slept in my arms or swaddled tightly in a safe, secure cocoon of love.
Third Child
No monitor, same crib as the first and second born - now with teeth marks. He might have slept in sleepers but probably slept in diapers or his clothes from that day. The 4 year old may or may not have helped to dress him. He might have the sleeper snapped up properly, he also may not. He had blankets and toys and socks and possibly Cheerios in his crib.
I definitely did not have a monitor (and if I had had one, it would have been packed away or in the toy box. Or given it to some poor new parent who actually cares about their baby's sleeping habits.)
Noah slept in a swing, in the car seat, next to his 6-year-old brother on the couch, on the floor surrounded by toys because I completely forgot he was playing there and he passed out for a nap.
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| Covered in blankets, on a recliner. A recliner! |
How Do You Get the Baby/Child to Sleep at Night?
First Child
Jack was surrounded by words - lullabies, books, songs, poems. Every cd carefully picked out from a recommendation in a Parenting magazine. Songs for naptime, for playtime, for cleaning up, for eating. Every bite of food is talked about - color, texture, taste. Words were enunciated to help with verbal development - Print Rich Environment, Developmentally Appropriate Play!
I pored over the books for sleep. Books on how to send baby to dreamland with comfort. No crying it out, no break in the mother-child bond. He was rocked, tummy to tummy, swaddled, fed (but not right before sleeping! Feed then begin nighttime routine so he learns how to fall asleep). When it was finally time for Jack to sleep in his crib (8 months old. 8. Freaking. Months), I followed a program, step by step. First sitting by his crib, talking softly. Then sitting quietly. Finally moving my chair towards the door (all this time a night light is on, the white noise maker filling the room with the soothing sounds of a babbling brook) and then lastly, leaving the room after Jack falls peacefully asleep, being assured that I was there as he slept.
Third Child
I'm using what few parenting books I have left to hold up the leg of the coffee table. If I have a question, I google it. But they're usually not parenting questions. More like "What is the maximum amount of wine I can drink in a day that is socially acceptable?"and "How often do I HAVE to wash yoga pants?"
For parenting advice, I ask my mom (which is silly because she can't remember our collective childhood. Her brain has blocked it out for self-preservation) or just make it up.
I rarely talked to Noah about his food except to say "NO! Don't eat that! That cheerio was in your diaper. Gross. You know what? Fine. Less I have to clean up later."
By that time I didn't have a subscription to any parenting magazines and if I did, I would have given them to the kids to cut out and glue on a piece of paper because it would've bought me 10 minutes of business and quiet until someone stabs someone else with the scissors.
Noah slept in a crib from the first night. I got up to feed him, often falling asleep in the rocking chair. Often he ate right before sleeping, pulling off from nursing in a milk-induced coma as I snuck out of the room. Or I just put him to bed crying, told him good night, and shut the door. He might have cried for awhile or he might have fallen right to sleep. I was too far away to know either way.
Nap Time
First Born
Jack napped at proper intervals and always with a book (often about naps - appropriately themed books). Then I would whisper to Jack as we lay side by side. We would talk about the things we did that morning and our plans for later that day. Thoughtful questions were asked and answered. A kiss on the forehead before leaving. Daily events were mapped out around sleep times, because it's so crucial to brain development.
Play date at 1?
Nope, naptime. Can't do it.
Dinner at 7?
Goodness gracious, nighttime routine starts at 7:15. We can't possibly do that. Our little one needs his sleep.
Third Born
He just sleeps whenever. Sometimes it's at actual naptime, right after lunch. But if he sleeps in the car or in the stroller, we count that as nap too.
Play date at 1?
Yes, please. I need some adult talk time. If Noah is really tired, he'll just sleep in the car on the way home.
Dinner at 7?
I don't have to cook? Yippee! Load up the kids and let's blow this pop stand. If Noah gets cranky because we're out late, we'll just strap him in the stroller. He'll eventually tire himself out with his tantrum.
On the rare days Noah naps, I might lay down next to him if I'm desperate. Then I have to pretend like I'm really wanting to take a nap with him. Like I'm exhausted and it's my dearest dream to curl up on his ratty old blanket that smells faintly of pee and milk and take a nap. He knows what's happening and watches me with suspicious squinty eyes.
So then I have to pretend to fall asleep almost immediately. Mouth open, maybe a soft snore because I'm so comfortable and cannot wait to nap.
He then asks me "Can I get up when you get up?" because he knows as soon as he falls asleep, I will sneak out.
So I have to say "How about this? Whoever gets up first gets to stay up. And if the other person is sleeping, that person will keep sleeping. Could be either of us. It's a toss up."
He'll try to talk me out of making him nap.
"Mom, my heart doesn't want to nap. My heart is saying "Noah, I'm not tired. Let's get up and play."
"Noah, your heart doesn't know what's going on. Your heart wants to nap. It's tired. Your heart is a liar."
Eventually he'll start to fall asleep and I'll try to slide off the bottom bunk bed.
I put my leg and arm on the ground to begin my departure.
Sometimes Noah's eyes will pop open - suspicious, piggy, glaring at me. So then I immediately pretend like I'm sleeping.
I act like I am deep in the best sleep of my life, even if my right knee is on a lego and my right hand is still scrolling through Pinterest on my phone.
At some point he does fall asleep and I creep out.
After he wakes up, Noah accuses me of not waking him up when I left.
"Why didn't you let me leave with you?"
"Noah," I say, aghast with emotion, "Noah, I tried! I would've loved to stay up and play with you but you were sleeping so well, I couldn't get you to wake up! I was like "Noah, Noah, please play with me, don't sleep" but you just kept on sleeping."
Now is not the time for scruples and honesty.
Now is the time for sanity and yoga pants while you drink your wine in silence.
