A week or so ago, I decided that it was time for S to learn how to sleep in her own bed. We’ve gone through so many iterations of this. About six months ago we gave up and started bringing her to bed with us when she woke in the night. She seemed to need it, and we figured that it was probably just a phase. Plus, everyone got more sleep that way . . . until we didn’t.
Over time her demands have increased. She started crying to come to bed with us earlier and earlier—well before we’re ready for bed. Then, she started kicking one of us out of the bed (normally Ken), and waking in the middle of the night banging me over the head with her sippy cup, or poking me in the eyes, saying, “No sleep, Mommy!” The only way she’d relax was if I held her next to me with my arm draped across her just so. If I shifted or got up in the night, it was game over.
And now I have a pinched nerve in my neck and my arm goes numb when I bend my elbow.
Ken also misses sleeping in a real bed.
It was time for S to learn how to spend the whole night in her crib. It was a very long parenting week, but around the fourth or fifth night she started sleeping through and we all awoke (albeit 5:45) much happier. To keep myself sane during those hours upon hours participating in the call-and-response of “Mommy? . . . shhhhh.” I composed haikus.
These are probably best appreciated after midnight, and perhaps after a glass of wine . . . or two.
Dear God in heaven,
Let my child sleep through the night,
And grant us world peace.
Already? Listen kid . . .
I should be off the clock now.
This is Mommy time.
Mommy!!! No sleep! Out!
Lay down, I’ll sing songs to you.
Please sleep. No crying.
Here we go again.
The songs aren’t working. Now what?
I’ll just lay right here.
The siege continues.
Can you just sleep in your crib?
I love you. Please sleep.
The neighbors are mad.
They are knocking on the walls.
Places I have slept:
bed, floor, hall, beanbag chair, couch.
Where is the coffee?