You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2010.
I haven’t been posting much about the Great Sleep Crisis of 2010. That’s not because it is over.
But rather, because I am over it.
I think I’ve somehow found my way through the seven stages of sleep deprivation – kind of like grief, you know?
Stage 1. SHOCK & DENIAL
Mhhhhm. Wah? Huh? What? What time is it?
WTF? Why why WHY are you awake right now?
This can’t be happening. Again.
Stage 2. PAIN & GUILT
I am so goddamn tired.
My head hurts. My eyes hurt. I think my skin hurts.
And I’m being cranky and pissy to my child.
Stage 3. ANGER & BARGAINING
Dammit dammit dammit.
Hey, Elsa – I will give you treats tomorrow if you stay asleep until the sun comes up.
Forget the treats, then… I will pay for college.
Stage 4. DEPRESSION, REFLECTION, LONELINESS
Why me? I’m never going to get a full night’s sleep again.
Single parenting sucks. WTF was I thinking?
Stage 5. THE UPWARD TURN
Somewhere in the third week of the Great Sleep Crisis, it got somehow easier to deal with multiple awakenings during the night and too-early mornings, and still get through the day. Am no less tired, but slightly less bitchy.
I said SLIGHTLY.
Stage 6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH
It must be a growth spurt. And I will just keep trying different ways to make you sleep until I find one that works. Something will work.
Stage7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE
OK, so nothing works. You aren’t sleeping, and I’m not going to keep trying to change that – I’m too tired, for one thing.
It is what it is, as they say in Maui (dear Lord, please take me back there soon).
And one thing I know: it won’t last forever.
I like my iPad. But not as much as Elsa does. Especially now that I’ve downloaded about a frillion episodes of Dora the Explorer.
I try not to abuse this solution, but am starting to understand why people stick their kids in front of the TV every day. It’s kind of a miracle – 24 straight minutes of relative quiet, during which Elsa remains practically motionless in one place.
Owen (or as Elsa would pronounce it, “Ohwie”) and his parents are some of our favorite folks. Nell and Earl are old friends of mine, and graciously agreed to be one set of Elsa’s godparents.
I shared a nanny with them for a year or so, and as a result Elsa and Owen became practically siblings – they were together 5 days a week for the whole day. While the new(ish) preschool situation is better for her social development (and my budget), Elsa misses Owen terribly. She asks for him all the time. And I miss seeing Nell and Earl as regularly as I used to. But at least they are – or have been – close by enough for spontaneous get-togethers. This morning we dropped by to play and I was so touched by the display of outright joy that Elsa and Owen show when they get to see each other.
I’m extraordinarily proud that Earl has been appointed by President Obama to a high-level role in the administration. But I am also so very sad that they are moving to DC as a result.
Elsa is not going to understand why we can’t just go over and see Ohwie on the weekend anymore. I’ll understand it, but I won’t like it.
Elsa is now enjoying having the language skills (and independence) to tell me when she is displeased with me. This generally happens after I’ve corrected her. I am also accused of “not listening” when I say no to anything.
I really appreciate hearing these things, even though they are said in a very cross tone, because her prior expressions of displeasure usually consisted of screaming, crying, whining, or (most often) all three. OK, I still get a lot of that, but at least I have variety.
Now, I also hear:
“I am not happy to you right now” (not sure, really, why she is not happy TO me, instead of WITH me, but I kind of dig it), or
“That is NOT OK” (always accompanied by a wagging index finger), or
“You are not habbing good behaybyur,“
or, my current favorite,
“[insert random demand here], udderwise, no party for you!“
(memories of the soup nazi).
This is invariably followed by a listing of people who will be invited to the party, followed by a reiteration that I will not – just so I’m clear on what I’ll be missing.
It took a while for Elsa to be interested in coloring. It was just not compelling enough to keep her attention when she’d rather be jumping around or dancing or singing or – usually – all of the above simultaneously.
Now, she loves it. She still sings or chats at the same time, but can sit (or stand) still long enough to really get into a drawing.
She now produces pages and pages of circles and scribble and lines and dots.
And, in a bit of a switch from my normally unsentimental self, I am hoarding them – I love every one of them.
I wish I could keep them all and paper my walls.
Elsa and her BFF are digging the beach.