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Why is Night
time so tricky in my house? I seriously can’t be the only one asking myself
this question!
Here I am 4 almost 5 years into being a mom, and I still can’t win the epic bedtime battle with my sassy little munchkin.
Source Psychology Today
How did we get here?
I believe we have a reasonably loose bedtime schedule. I know you’re going to tell me that’s my 1st mistake!
Here’s the thing, for the longest time I worked Mon-Fri from 7 or 8am until about 5 or 6pm. Some nights, after work, I would go to Night class; if I didn’t have a night class, I would come home for about an hour and then head to a gym class.
This caused us to be home and sort of
settled in around 9pm or later most nights.
Now that I have been out of school for a year, I still work until about 5-6pm and 2-3 nights out of the week my daughter has Dance or Gymnastics. So depending on the day of the week we may not get home and settled in until about 10pm.
Maybe some of you can relate?
I personally don’t
like getting home and directly starting the bedtime process; I want to unwind,
talk with my daughter about her practice, her day or just in general, before we
get to the nitty gritty sleep time mess.
Most Nights
Once dinner has
been eaten, and showers have been completed, I am pooped and I honestly just
want to kick my feet up and enjoy maybe 30 minutes of my TV shows before
falling asleep. To do that I need my kid to hit the hay.
The only problem is……. she still sleeps in the bed with me!
Let me go back a bit
When my daughter was born, I was deathly
afraid to co-sleep; I mean you hear so many sad stories about families and
their co-sleeping experiences; it completely terrifies you out of the idea.
But I did also read some positive
experiences as well.
After about 7
weeks of sleeping with one open eye one and on the edge of my bed or couch,
while my daughter peacefully dreamt in her bassinet, swing or crib, I thought
it was time to relax and loosen the reigns just a tad bit.
Then I went back
to work, and I missed my little baby like crazy; I missed holding her and
smelling her and even watching her sleep (because I did that a lot).
So in my mind,
sleeping with her was time for us to be close because we were away from each
other so much during the day. I tried to make our sleeping arrangements as safe
as possible because I was still nervous about the co-sleeping thing.
And I’m sure I will get a judgment or two
on this, but hey we all parent how we want to parent and just hope and pray we
are doing it right!
So anyhow, now my
little one has been introduced to mommy and daddy’s bed!
As time progressed
Fast forward about 2 years, we
started trying to get little lady in her own bed. Well, I was trying; her dad
was perfectly fine with our sleeping arrangements.
But this step proved itself as
a hard one.
We would try reading a book;
stretching, night music even 20 minutes of TV here & there but absolutely nothing
prepared her for sleeping in her own bed. So I would hold her and rock her until
she fell asleep; which took anywhere from one to two hours!
So here I am totally worn out
from getting my toddler to bed; its 12am and I still have to study or clean or
do laundry. Hell or all three!
Needless to say, I became
discouraged with this plan and welcomed Missy back to my bed within about 2 weeks.
Wait, don’t let me forget the nights I was successful in getting her to sleep (if you want to call it a success) she never slept in her room the entire night, and I regularly set alarms to wake up and go check on her throughout the night.
Ha, Ha, I know – I am shaking my head too!
The Other Night
So what prompted me to break
out my laptop and write about this longtime struggle? What made me say enough
is enough after 4 years of co-sleeping?
The other night!
There was nothing relatively different
about this evening; we did our thing, ate dinner, talked, played, cleaned; it
was a regular weekday night for us.
As 9pm approached I start
talking the steps to prepare my kiddo for bed; by 10pm we are in bed, and I am
turning off all devices, except the iPad which plays the “night music.”
First I ask my daughter to lie
on her pillow, and I would pat her back while she falls asleep; she immediately
jumped into freak out mode and demanded that she was held.
Okay that’s fine I hold her
just about every night so what is the big deal with holding her again.
As I am holding her and patting her back, I swear about every 2-3 minutes she whines, tells me she is not comfortable and wiggles around in my arms, sometimes flopping from one side to another; after about 15 mins of moving and whining I just place her next to me and tell her to go to sleep.
Ohh, but why did I do that?
She broke out the waterworks
and experienced a complete meltdown.
Absolutely nothing I said would
comfort her; she didn’t want me to touch her, yet she didn’t want to lay by
herself. My halfcocked threats didn’t work either.
I felt so defeated and over the
entire night! I just wanted to sleep!
After about an hour of crying,
flopping around and more crying she was off to sleep, in my arms!
What’s next?
I kept telling myself that
after that night I was changing things up. My daughter was going to sleep in
her perfectly comfortable queen size bed with her plush pillows and comfy
comforter; after all, we had to prepare for her little brother arriving in a
couple months.
What am I going to do with a
child that still wants to be rocked to sleep and a newborn that is going to
expect/want the same things?
Should have, Could have, Would have
These types of thoughts lead
you to think of things you should have done differently or could have done
differently. And then you tell yourself that you’re going to do so many things
different with your next child to avoid not such positive experiences.
I specifically said to myself
that I will not cosleep with my son at all; I came to this conclusion because
of the difficulty I am having with my daughter now.
But if I choose to eliminate
the cosleeping idea with my son, will I miss out on the same benefits of
cosleeping that I have enjoyed with my daughter over the years?
Which leads me into next week’s subject –
Is it fair to change your parenting styles/approaches with each child?
Let’s be honest pregnancy
is not always this beautiful, blissful experience that everyone wishes it was.
It is
okay to acknowledge its truths, no matter how ugly they may seem.
Social media
The
thing is social media has put this distorted view in our minds regarding
pregnancy, parenting, fitness and so much more. We see perfection everywhere
that we feel it’s a requirement; we feel like what we see on Instagram and
Facebook must be what real life looks like or what real life should be.
The
reality is, that perception and that image you see on Instagram isn’t everyone’s life –
and that’s okay!
Reality
Although
I would love to be a fitness guru at 8 months pregnant, while running my
business, tending after my 4-year old,
keeping a spotless house, cooking healthy meals daily and having plenty of
energy left to hang out with my girlfriends…. the reality is that isn’t my life!
Big props to the women that can do just that; whoever
they are! I am not speaking anything negative on their lives; but I am stressing the fact being that image, that lifestyle
isn’t for
everyone – and that’s okay!
Hey lady you are still winning!
The
reality is your probably 30 pounds heavier than before you were pregnant. You
are either going to have a clean house or have dinner cooked by 8pm. Energy these
days seem to be non-existent, and you can’t
remember the last time you took a moment out for yourself!
The
reality is you probably hide from the camera because you don’t feel comfortable
in your own skin. You smile when people joke about how big your belly has
gotten, but in the inside, you just want to slap them. (No, just me?)
The
reality is you may act as if you are 100% prepared and have it all figured out,
but secretly you are probably scared out of your mind and hope you are doing
everything right; whether this is your 1st or your 5th
pregnancy, we still have fears and concerns at some point.
Be
Real Be Happy
Ladies
we have to understand that everything we see isn’t right; it isn’t real.
Our
want or need to be perfect, the perfect mother or just the ideal human, makes
it so much easier to take these things that we see and allow them to imprint on
us and ultimately drive us crazy because we strive for the impossible.
One
photo, one post, one video does not tell the entire story. It is only a piece
of someone’s life. Most of the times it is the piece that they want us to see
or that they create to promote the idea that they that have it all together!
And
maybe she does!
But you
don’t have to; you don’t need to!
Don’t
break yourself trying to be perfect when all you have to do is live life and
take in the experiences you are meant to have.
You are
still great! You are still winning.
Your
Journey just looks different than mine and hers!
I appreciate these challenges. Writing Challenge #2, click HERE to participate!
Every morning around this time of the year, for about 4 weeks, I
would wake up to the most beautiful smell: Pumpkin Marshmallow. The
sweet-smelling aroma swiftly engulfed the cramped cabin where my family and I
stayed during the Holidays. The scent was not overbearing, it provided just the
right amount of warmth needed for those chilly November mornings! The sound of
pots and pans raddling and clanking in the kitchen was just a little reminder
that Thanksgiving was around the corner.
Mother loved Thanksgiving; it was the only time of the year that
all the family came to town and enjoyed each other’s company. The holiday visit
usually lasted about 2 weeks; once it ended everyone quickly returned to their
busy, eventful lives in the big city! Everyone tried to stay in touch the first
few weeks after Thanksgiving, but generally, that didn’t last! It would go back
to just being Mother, Dad, and the twins after the Holidays. The twins are Lily
and Kyle; my family adopted them when they were about 6 months old. They are
actually blood cousins, but according to documentation and family bond, they
are my younger siblings! In total Mother and Father shared 6 children: the
Twins, Mark, Cassie, Paula, and Myself!
I usually came to town a few days early to help with the
Thanksgiving preparations. The week leading up to Thanksgiving we were required
to get everything in the house impeccable, as Mother and Father prepped the
food. Mother wanted floors and walls scrubbed spotless, Fall decorations
flowing throughout the house and the fireplace equips to burn chips of wood all
week long. The house remained very busy and smelled delightful, between scented
candles and home cooked greatness. As each day passed everyone’s excitement
grew greater. The anticipation became almost unbearable the day before
Thanksgiving Eve. This was also the day for the final touches on the menu and
last minute cleaning sprees!
On the day before Thanksgiving, Family would start to arrive at
all times of the day. Some would bring dishes of dessert and others would bring
the liquid inspiration, not that anyone needed it. The men would gather in the
den to watch sports while trying to smoke Cuban Cigars on the hush; Father
would open windows hoping to air out the smell, but it never worked! Aunt Francis
would bring Christmas sweaters that she was able to weave together on her own.
She was very good at what she did, but those sweaters were not always
appealing. Every year she would request a picture of everyone in their sweater,
and it eventually became a Christmas card. Then there was Cousin Billy and
Cousin Frank, they are brothers, and I believe my 2nd or 3rd cousins; they
always seemed to have a “new date” or “new friend” every
Thanksgiving. It’s like those two were allergic to settling down.
Each year it seemed like our family grew; everyone was branching
out and starting families within our already large Family. The cabin was always
so full of laughter and love these days. We all would sit and talk for hours
about past memories and share outrageously embarrassing stories. Mother would
always find a way to sneak in her photo albums; she mainly went for the same
one every year. This photo album was outlined in the shiniest silver you would
have ever seen & if it were tilted in the correct position the reflection
of light would allow the pages to shimmer. It was a stunning album. The album
contained baby photos of my siblings and me. Every year we created new
traditions and even revisited old ones. Every year we argued, laughed till we
cried and cried until we laughed.
*……..*
It has been a long while since I experienced a Thanksgiving so
full of joy. Once Father became sick the holidays became dull, and the laughter
was no longer present.
He fought his battle as long as he could, but after 2 years of
fighting, it was understandable that he was tired. Mother took his passing very
hard; she began to give up on life herself; it seemed. The Twins moved out and
off to college right before Fathers passing, so it was just Mother- alone. I
asked Mother to stay with me because she didn’t need to be alone, but she felt
closer to him at the cabin.
Days would go by before she returned any of my calls. Each time I
talked to her, she sounded more lost than before. I wanted to help her, but I
didn’t know if I could. She lost her life partner, the man she loved since the
8th grade. How could I possibly provide her with the right words and support to
get her through this?
Each day grew harder; instead of healing, I felt my Mother was
withering away. Eventually, she refused to leave the cabin at all. She refused
to eat and take care of herself in any way. So I finally decided to move back
with her. This decision shocked many of my friends; they didn’t understand why
my older siblings did not volunteer to take care of our Mother. I tried to
explain that everyone had children and families their own; to pick up
everything and move thousands of miles would be unfair and unrealistic for
them. However, it was just me. I lived alone. I dropped out of college shortly
after my father was diagnosed. All I did
was work a dead-end job and attend night clubs!
I felt as if my life was going nowhere fast and I needed to be with my
Mother! I needed to add purpose and substance to my life again.
I did not realize until I packed up and moved with my Mother that
I was also still in pain. I had not completely come to terms with my Father
departing this earth when he did. I ignored what I was feeling for a long time.
That was no longer an option when I moved back to the cabin.
My mother had not left the cabin for many months; she felt closer
to Father there, and I could understand that. We shared so many good memories
in that place.
My 1st night back was uneasy; I heard my Fathers voice bouncing
off the walls! I could feel his presence. I knew this was only my emotions and
entirely in my head, but it felt so real! The smell of his cologne lingered
through the cabin that night. I thought Mother may have sprayed it, so I walked
down the hallway to her room. She was in a deep sleep. It looked as if the sleeping
pills I gave her did the trick. As I looked around the room, I didn’t see any
of Father’s belongings. It seemed like the room they shared and been wiped
clean that he was ever there. I did not understand how Mother could get rid of
all his things but still sulk in grief for his passing.
I grabbed for the handle on the door to exit my Mothers room, as I
tried twisting the handle the door seemed jammed. I tried my best to wiggle it
open as quietly as possible; I didn’t want to wake Mother. As I tried pulling
the door handle for the 4th time I felt a cold chill down my spine; I spun
around quickly and caught a glimpse of this dull grayish light. I shut my eyes
rapidly; I kept telling myself I was tired and just needed to get some sleep.
My gut was saying something different! I turned back to the jammed door and
heard an unclear whisper. I could not make out what was said. I thought it was
my mother so I called out to her, but there was no reply. I assumed she was
talking in her sleep. As I redirect my attention
back to the door, I heard that faint whisper again, but this time I can make
out what was said.
“You cannot leave me! We are a family! I will never let you go!”
At that moment I understood why Mother would never leave this
cabin.
Michelle Anderson 