TBT: The Sleepless Wonder

I know no more about how to get a child to sleep than I did a few years ago, but my compassion for parents/zombies has genuinely deepened.  Take heart, tired folks.  I'll keep the coffee brewing.  Enjoy this throwback from 2012 and know my prayers for rest are with you!


This week has been rough to say the least. Matilda is on her second bout of the stomach flu this week. The poor kid has been through the ringer. Not to mention, I've earned my fair share of badges in the categories of "clean up" and "disinfecting" over the course of the week. But, my other precious child has actually been the one keeping me up at night. Yes, this post isn't about Lysol, Listerine, and my Pursuit of Healthiness. Oh, no, this is going to be about my sweet Daphne, or as she's known around these parts: The Sleepless Wonder.

Was baby Daphne really this little?

What is it in my genes that has brought me these two precious bundles of joy that somehow have the will and wherewithal to keep themselves permanently awake. I say my genes, because, apparently my husband has always been a totally sound sleeper. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that it is in his genes to magically rest undisturbed through just about anything...an earthquake, a nuclear missile, or say, even a screaming baby in the middle of the night. Whew. (Don't get me wrong, this dude is my ROCK...it's just the fact that he sleeps like one too makes me totally jealous!)

I have never been a good sleeper. My mom tells stories of being a zombie, nursing me as a baby night after night until one of us lost our minds and finally gave up the ghost and crashed. Even as a youngster I would hate going to bed, hate staying in bed, and insist that I just Was. Not. Tired. Which, as any reasonable adult comes to understand - is completely false. I'm pretty sure I spent most of my twenties trying to catch up on that lost sleep...but, it didn't matter. Now that I've finally found my desire to sleep - I'm once again thrown into a roller coaster of total snooze deprivation. Yes, yes...what goes around comes around and all that...hilarious, isn't it?

My babies just don't sleep. Matilda woke up every 2 hours for eight months straight. Even after I went back to work after the first three months, yep, she was up and at 'em like clockwork, and I would somehow drag myself into the office, being sure to keep extra toothpicks in my purse in order to keep my eyelids open at all times. It wasn't all terrible, I'll admit. I enjoyed our special bonding time in the middle of the night. I would gaze at her face, sweetly nursing back into dreamland, and try to memorize each little contour of her cheek in the dimness of the nightlight. I loved watching her little expressions - especially the jerky little smirks and smiles her lips would make while she drifted back to sleep, totally unaware of my staring at her. I genuinely missed those moments when she started sleeping through the night.

But, before that, you know what else I missed??? Sleep. I missed sleep. I missed not having to wake up in the dead of night with my heart racing as if a cannon had just gone off at the sound of my infant screaming like a banshee. I missed waking up feeling like I was ready for the day and not having to seriously concentrate to pick out matching socks. I missed drifting off to sleep peacefully instead of completely paranoid that the sound of my own heart beating would somehow awaken the beast from her delicate slumber in the crib down the hall. I missed choosing to have coffee in the morning instead of it being medically necessary for me to function or operate a piece of machinery (like a curling iron). Is it selfish to miss sleep? Is it unreasonable? It didn't even matter...I was too tired to care.

And, guess what? I'm dangerously close to approaching that level of sleep deprivation again. I think every parent or parent-to-be has pretty reasonable expectations about the first few weeks. They know it will be hard. They know they will be up in the middle of the night. But, God gives us that amazing amount of grace and compassion in our souls that are so incredibly in love with this new creation that we can't help but want to wake up again and again and care for this helpless little creature (who happens to be insanely adorable) and get to be the solution to all their problems...Yes! I can change you, sweet one! Yes! I can feed you, you cute little punker bottom. Yes! I can burp you, oh kissable little cheeky monkey butter bear blossom baby. (Well, the nicknames get a bit incomprehensible around 3 or 4 in the morning, see?)

So...what's to be done? How to get a baby to sleep through the night is such a mind-boggler for so many people, it's right up there in the "eternal question" category somewhere between "What is the meaning of life?" and "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?" There are books and books and books and now blogs and articles and whole websites dedicated to just how you can solve all your baby's sleep problems (in three easy payments/steps/nights, etc...)

I've read my fair share. Believe me, I'm no stranger to research. When I want to know something, I put my heart and soul into it and seek out every last drop of advice I can get my hands on. I'm certainly no expert, so I've taken the time to actually look at what the "experts" do have to say. From "Ferberize" to "Baby Wise", from the "Baby Whisperer" to the "Happiest Baby on the Block". Just google "get baby to sleep through the night" and you will be up to your eyeballs in "do's and don'ts". And...my conclusion? The experts know absolute crap about my kid.

The experts know crap? Yes. All of them. No matter how educated or renowned they may be, you can absolutely find an "expert" to support anything: Swaddling is good. Swaddling makes the baby feel constricted. Don't sleep with your baby. Co-sleeping helps the baby feel secure. Pick up the baby to keep them from feeling unloved. Never pick up the baby or they will always cry to get your attention. Never let the baby fall asleep on you. Never lay the baby down awake. Always lay the baby down while still awake. Let the baby cry to help learn soothing techniques. Letting the baby cry only confirms to them that you think they are unlovable. Give the baby a pacifier. Never let the baby sleep with the pacifier. A baby needs a trigger to give them routine. Don't assign a prop to a baby or they will become dependent on it. There is no difference in a baby's ability to sleep through the night, they have to learn it. Every baby will eventually sleep through the night if you allow them to find their own pattern.

Drowning yet? Exactly. It's overwhelming. And all of the above information is straight out of "expert" advice. Well, the only thing it taught me was that apparently I've been doing everything wrong, no matter what I've been doing! Sigh.

Have a baby? Or going to have a baby? Take a deep breath. It's going to be okay. Put down the baby book, make some coffee (decaf if you must), hug someone (I won't tell if it is your cat or favorite pillow) and pat yourself on the back. Why? Because, congratulations - YOU know your baby best! You are all the expert you need.

I've read and read and read. I've asked a zillion moms (including my own, since, well, you know - she raised me and lived to tell about it). I've listened and learned and have a LONG way to go (if that wasn't obvious). But, if I know one thing, it's that those experts are NOT around in the middle of the night to pat me on the back and hand me a cup of coffee and reassure me that even if I pop her paci back in her mouth it is most likely not going to turn her into the next president OR the next serial killer. Deep breath. I have to stop thinking if I swaddle her wrong, surely she'll be scarred for life. If I let her nurse to sleep that she will surely grow up to be a hippie or cultist or libertarian. If I let her cry it out she will need extra therapy sessions, or maybe become the next American Idol (here's hoping that set of pipes goes to some good use!) Nope - there are no guarantees that my child will or won't turn out the way I think is best - or worst. I love her. I will care for her. I will provide for her. I have hopes and dreams for her. And right now, I hope that she sleeps and dreams her way through more than two hours at a time!

The fact is, these "experts" never address the one thing we are really all wondering but don't want to ask: How can I survive this? One night at a time. That's the truth. Some nights you will have extreme compassion and be able to rock your baby to sleep and she will still wake up every 20 minutes. Other nights you will want to throw your baby through the window because, just when you thought you had it all together, your sweet little bundle of joy discovered your wit's end and is now clenching onto the last nerve you never knew you had - and biting your nipple at the same time. And still, you love her. You survive. You have ups and downs. You have a perfectly scheduled routine one week, and the next week you find yourself eating cereal out of the box at 2pm and discover you've put on yesterday's dirty yoga pants on backwards. Someone will question your methods. Someone will do it better than you. Someone's kid will magically sleep through the night at 2 weeks and tell you all about how easy it was and you will want to punch her in the face. But, you will survive. I will survive. And so will Daphne.

Tonight we are going to let Daphne cry it out. She will wail and my heart will break. She will scream and my breasts will ache with the need to feed her and my soul will be crushing with the utmost of guilt. (Can you tell I'm looking forward to this?) It totally sucks. I hate it. But, when I look at my red-ring-eyed baby and see how insanely overstimulated she is, I know it is best for her. Am I selfish? Am I abandoning her? Am I crazy? All this and more will be haunting my thoughts tonight. But, echoing between each cry, each gulp, each beat of my heart will be the resounding truth: I love her. Trust me, we've tried it all. The co-sleeping, the triggers, the only-go-in-every-ten-minutes-so-she-is-reassured, and the list goes on. This is the last resort and this is what it came to with Matilda as well - and, after 3 nights of utter horror - Matilda was sleeping a full 12 hours straight. Whew - so, here we go again.

I don't want anymore advice. I don't even want sympathy. I want a good hug and a high five and a strong, strong cup of coffee. And prayer. And sleep. Good night.

The Myth of Balance

Like many children, my girls love playing with blocks.  Well, not so much blocks as a leftover Jenga game that went unplayed for years until they discovered it in the back of a closet one day and deemed it "Castle Maker game".

They start slowly and diligently, teetering and tottering their blocks on top of one another to construct pony palaces and Barbie mansions until, inevitably, one of the blocks shifts (or gets nimbly knocked by her sister) and the whole shebang come crashing down.

This is how I feel about every day as a mother.  This is the myth of balance.

People use the term "balance" like it's the new "amazing".  It's the little black dress of motherhood vocabulary, and if you can't find it then you must be doing something wrong.  You either need to relax more, or get more motivated.  You need to wake up earlier or get more sleep.  You need to work out more, or slow down and have a glass of wine.  Yo
u need to get out of the house, or you need to stay in for once.

We buy into the notion that "You're right.  If I just did _____ then I could settle into a routine and this whole thing would click together like a puzzle and I'd be able to calmly enjoy the whole picture in the present like I'm supposed to!"

But, we aren't playing with puzzle pieces - we're playing with blocks.  And what we want so earnestly to be a perfect fit that has the security of a concrete foundation, often comes tumbling down around us in the form of disobedient kids, play dates that cancel, cars that breakdown, jobs that fall through, relationships that disappoint us, or whole myriad of other unpredictable life events.

Balance is not found.  Balance is created.

So, how do we "create" this balance?  How can I possibly find peace or calm in the middle of a toddler's screaming tantrum?  What in the world am I supposed to do when I feel like a failure for bribing my child to take a nap or eat her broccoli?

I used to wake up almost every day thinking Either my children are worse children than any other children on the planet, or I'm a worse mother for not being able to handle them.  I am challenged minute-after-minute by motherhood, and I would berate and frustrate myself for not being able to get a grip on balancing it all.

Until I realized...every mother in the universe feels the same way.  Each one of our children have their challenges.  Every day there are times we would like to reverse time and redo the way we yelled at our toddler or overreacted towards their actions or something we snapped at someone else because we were simply at the end of our rope.  Ladies - you are in good company.  You are not alone!

We create balance by SPEAKING OUT.  We create balance by BEING HONEST, with ourselves and with each other.  We create balance by counter-weighting the expectations we have for our lives with the reality that doing the best we can is more than ENOUGH.

I don't know about you, but feeling guilty sucks.  It literally shuts me down emotionally when I already am exhausted by the practical things in life like making snacks and reading storybooks.  I have no extra energy to extend to feeling guilty when I turn on Netflix for my kids instead of reading to them.  I am simply too spent to pour into feelings of shame when I buy my kid a Happy Meal instead of sauteeing vegetables they will throw on the floor.

My energy is better spent elsewhere.  My energy is a precious commodity.  My energy is a limited gift that needs to be managed with the same gentleness with which I extend my friendship, time, and love.  And I'm so ready to use some of this energy to stir up some TRUTH and project it out into your hearts and minds to ponder and absorb.

The myth of balance can be truly detrimental to a mother's heart.  In the midst of such a beautiful and challenging season of life, I want you invite you to release with me the burden of balance.  Together, we can strike an honest chord of friendship and expose the myth for what it is.  Let's reach out to each other, share our stories, and sincerely create balance in our lives that encourages meaning, purpose, and perseverance in these young days of motherhood.

C'mon, mamas.  Let's build each other up with these building blocks of truth.  With enough of them, we might finally have a foundation to help change the world.

Welcome to the Play Room

It's definitely taking quite a bit of time to figure out where everything goes in our new house.  As first-time homeowners, I feel a great sense of pride and obligation to give everything a very specific "spot" in our home so that we are surrounded by the feeling of "belonging" as well as trying my best to maintain a sense of sanity amongst the chaos.

With three bedrooms and two children, we had the choice of how to use the "extra" bedroom.  Would we split the girls up?  Would we use it as an office?  Or storage until another potential baby (or not) would possibly designate the space?  I'll tell you, it didn't take us long to decide to utilize this space for one thing we desperately longed for:  A PLAY ROOM.

Since the girls got bunk beds for Christmas, we gave them the smaller room to be their sleeping space.  This third bedroom, then, would be exclusive PLAY area for them to store their books, toys, and crafts.  I didn't want to fill the space too much so that it could never be used as anything else in the future, but I knew they had plenty to fill out the room that was there (spoiled much?)

This was the first room that we really put together, so that the girls would ideally have their own space to occupy themselves while we focus our attention to other areas of the house.  I'm excited to share pics of their new play room - a colorful combination of new and old toys, nods to both vintage and classic childhood belongings, and a nostalgic place that can be comfortably ruined by mischief and fun!

Make no mistake, I am NOT a designer or even suggester of how in the world to decorate.  I get my ideas from magazines, pinterest, and problem solving just like most moms out there.  I try to "shop my house" as much as I can before buying new things, and I'm all about utilizing spaces for multiple purposes.

These shelves were CD racks in our last apt.  But, with cute matching books/characters and some fabric drawers, they add some sweet decor that is both useful and adorable.  Horton Hears a Who is my copy from childhood, and my grandpa made the wooden cut-out bunny and chipmunk on the right middle shelf.  

Love art!  I found these "Creative Thursday" prints about 6 years ago in Urban Outfitters and bought them on a whim to put up in a nursery long before I was ever pregnant with my first.  They hung in the girls' rooms until now, and they are the perfect compliment to this new ABC primary color picture I found on sale at Target!

Another "Creative Thursday" (there's another on the opposite side of the window as well) and these "new vintage" toys give a friendly nod to both generations in our home.  I already had everything, but just decided to display these choices.  I updated the lamp with a new shade that matches both the chevron curtain and the green chair, helping pull the room together a bit more.

And just in case you had any illusion that our play room was feeling more like a museum than an actual living space - this is what it looks like about 10 minutes into the day.  

WHEW!  Reality, people!  

Give EVERYTHING a space - including your children.  

Fun times get messy and crazy, but I feel much more sane knowing that there is a spot to put it all.  

Let's PLAY!

And the Award Goes to...

As former film students, my husband and I love to geek-out when Academy Award season rolls around.  Yes, I understand that this is an evening when all of Hollywood comes together to celebrate and focus on themselves, to fully indulge in beauty and facades, and to keep talk seriously shallow ranging from looks to performance.

Sure, there are plenty of more important things out there to think about other than "What is Jennifer Lawrence wearing?" or "Did Ellen just order pizza?" But, ever since childhood I have fully gawked in awe at the spectacle, and I thoroughly enjoy the production regardless of it's superficial flaws.

Every year, Josh and I print out ballots and do our best (okay, I'll admit I get frighteningly competitive) to pick who we want to win as well as who we think will win.  I warned you, we get into it.  (This is my Superbowl, people!) This used to be much more fun and filled with discussion surrounding our rationale behind our choices; but that was before children were in our lives, back when we actually saw  most of the films that were on the ballot!

Now, we sling-shot our answers blindly onto the paper, fingers crossed.  Needless to say I did poorly on my ballot this year, and it doesn't really matter apart from the fact that it made me stop and realize just how much the littlest, most trivial things in life have a tendency to change when you least expect it.

Parents of young children know exactly what I'm talking about.  Maybe it's not the Academy Awards for you...maybe it's music, or fashion, or just keeping up with the news on a weekly basis.  But, there's something about having kids (oh, wait, their incessant neediness is probably what it is) that completely sucks out one's ability to stay "with it" when it comes to things that so vibrantly used to impact daily life.

Do you know what I'm talking about?  Sometimes I feel like if I never made it to the grocery store or inside Target I really would have no grasp of what is happening outside of our little home.  I can tell you exactly how much cereal we have in our cabinets, totally recap the last episode of Curious George for you, and tell you every single My Little Pony character (cutie mark and all), but I have no idea if capris are a fashion no-no for the Spring or why I think American Hustle should have won more Oscars (I haven't even seen it yet!  But it still gets my vote for coolest movie trailer and best/worst movie hair!)

All this to say - we each have our little pieces of ourselves that we cringe about when we realize they've been gradually replaced by our children's needs/wants/loudness.  It's good and bad.  It's wonderful and disappointing.  It's frustrating and rewarding.  IT'S NOT FOREVER.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that it's okay to hang onto the silly parts of me that simply just make me ME.  I'm a gal who LOVES the stupid Hollywood gossip mags at the hair salon (which, no, I have not seen the likes of for several months) and looks forward to the Academy Awards each year.  I'm sure you have your own stupidly wonderful guilty pleasure, and part of being a parent usually means laying some of that to the side (or drastically compromising) as your focus is needed elsewhere.

While the Oscars are a fun night to gawk at Hollywood glam, it was a good reminder for me to take pride in even the tiniest of things that make up what I like and don't like.  Sometimes, as a mother, it can be so easy for me to lose sight of the importance of this.  Mothers are so busy placing their attention on others that we tend to drown out our own voices by the loud and distracting mix of those around us.

I might not have a gold statue to show for it, but I'm determined to hang onto these tiny parts of self.  The reward of nurturing my own needs will infiltrate the course of my parenting.  While this might look like knowing My Little Pony characters now, it won't forever.  Just noticing and acknowledging the little things in my life that help define my preferences will empower my own daughters to create their own.

Don't let go of those trivial things, even if you lay them to the side for a bit.  There's nothing trivial about knowing who you are, and when your kids grow up and start making decisions for themselves, they need an example of someone who isn't waiting on another's expectation.

While I'm vicariously living through the glamour of Hollywood from the comfort of my own pajamas, I'm convinced that the real award of the night is going to be found years later, when I don't resent my kids for changing that young mother who used to love film.  As sweet Lupita Nyong'o (how gorgeous was she?) said at the end of her acceptance speech, "...no matter where you're from, your dreams are valid."  I couldn't have said it better myself.