Sleep and Laughter CAN Go Hand in Hand

This morning,  Andrew woke up screaming.  Given that he refused to go to bed the previous evening because of sickness,  this event did not surprise me.   It did, however, rattle my husband.

As he climbed out of bed, he yelled, "SSSHHHH!!!"

To which I responded, "Um, that won't help."

After looking at me sheepishly he said, "Sorry, I was dreaming that one of the boys I work with was screaming at me." (Not too far from the truth.)

This dream state of my husband often results in hilarious nighttime outings and ramblings.

Like when I wake up to find cheese in the cupboard.  Or a half eaten peanut butter sandwich in the fridge.  And wrappers of my coveted chocolate scattered on the floor.

But nothing beats waking up to him whistling our alma mater's fight song; alternating between humming a tune and laughing hysterically; and jumping out of bed, grabbing a folded towel from the dresser, and brandishing it like a sword.  All while innocently dreaming.

It isn't unusual for me to wake up and find him in the living room with the TV on and the internet up.

I've mentioned the need for me to sleep train my husband before,  but I think I need to get more serious.  After I stop chuckling.

A Stranger's Kindness

I don't cry very often.  Really, I don't.  Tears might come to my eyes occasionally, but I normally brush them away and continue on with whatever task I am trying to perform.  Something happened yesterday that touched my heart so deeply that I couldn't help but cry.

What was that act? Kindness.  Extraordinary kindness.

Ben and I are in transition.  He has started a new job that has some pretty rocking benefits.  As is custom, we must wait thirty days before these benefits take effect.  We were kicked off our previous insurance a few days before he started the new job.  Yeah, we don't have insurance.

This hasn't been an issue until today.  Rather, a few days ago when Andrew woke up screaming. Every 15-30 minutes. All. Night. Long.

The first night I figured it was my fault.  I had interrupted his sleep to pick Ben up from work.

The second night I thought he might be scared.

The third night I wasn't sure what to think.

And this was our quandary: do we take him in to the doctor? If we had had insurance this would not have been a question.  But, because a doctor's visit would require taking money from our oh-so-tight budget, we had to make a decision.

See the doctor or eat.

OK. Maybe not that drastic, but close.

The threat of repeating the last three nights, and the potential of an ear infection, led us to the doctor's office.

I must say, we are very satisfied with our pediatrician.  He has taken care of our kids--and us--very well.  Ben even shadowed him! We know him and trust him.

The doctor did not find an infection.  He did find a sore, in the back of Andrew's throat, resulting from a virus that he has seen once or twice this year.  The good news: it only lasts about 5 days.  The bad news: it is very painful. The ultra bad news: there is nothing we can do about it.

Needless to say, it was not a good visit.  I could feel our bank account protesting against our hsatiness, "If you had only waited another day, you wouldn't have needed a doctor!"

I was feeling pretty defeated.  I had Andrew dressed and was only waiting for the doctor to dismiss us.  As he finished typing, and opened the door, he said something I did not expect.  He said to Ben, "Don't worry about paying.  Take her [me] out to lunch. She needs it."

The tears surprised me as much as his words.

Kindness.

I hope we can do the same for someone in the future.

P.S. Andrew's sore is much better.  He was able to sleep all night last night!

A Big Slobbery Thank You

It just so happens that I forgot to mention one major culprit in my emotional drama of last week: Miss Flow.  While I am grateful for this physical reminder of my fertility, I can't exactly gush about how she messes up my emotions.  Everything seems much more dramatic when she visits.

I recovered a bit of my spice over the weekend.  Your comments were a gigantic help in reminding me of the support group I have.   As much as days like those suck, it feels less overwhelming when I know that other people can relate.  Reading your comments while drinking Diet Dr. Pepper certainly alleviated much of the sadness I felt.

In case I forget how incredibly lucky I am, let me list a few things that made me smile this weekend.



Watching this little girl canter and twirl around our living room.

Feeling her sweet, slobbery kisses on my cheek.

Smiling as she sings little songs about me, Ben, and her little brother.



Tickling his numerous rolls.

Listening to his little baby noises.

Feeling like the greatest mom in the world as he smiles and laughs when I walk into the room.

Finally, all of you.  Your kind words of support.  Your wise suggestions.  Your digital hugs.  I really am a lucky gal.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

All Things Aside, I Think I Have It Easy

My brain is whirring from all the thoughts that are being produced.  Its noises keep me awake and wake me up.

I dream about cranial nerves, heart tissue, blood characteristics, and components of the Central Nervous System.  I am haunted by exams, papers, and due dates that I have missed.

In case you're wondering, I am not in school.  These strange dreams and clogged processes are the product of my husband's stress.  See, he has asked that I help him study this week.  That means that I can't blame my kids for my late nights.  No, this week I entirely blame my husband.

I'm not complaining, though, because I have it easy.  I may stay up late quizzing him, but he must take the exams and write the papers.  He also must stay up later (or all night) to complete his various assignments.

Between helping him at night, preparing meals, keeping little toddlers occupied, and nursing a growing boy, my days are quite cluttered.  I may not get around to each of your blogs daily, but I will catch you here and there.

Until then, be grateful that you aren't preparing for medical school.  I know I am.

Who Gets Up With the Baby?

Before we were married, Ben and I had a long discussion about division of household chores.  He suggested, and I agreed, that if he works full-time, I would also work full-time doing the household chores.  When he came home, we would share the remainder of the tasks.

This worked well.  In the beginning, we both worked part-time and attended school full-time and shared the household chores.

After we had Emily, things changed.  I quit working but continued to attend school full-time.  It seemed natural that I would take care of the household chores.

After a couple of months, we realized we needed to re-evaluate this division.  It was nearly impossible for me to take care of a colicky baby, finish homework, and stay on top of meals, dishes, and laundry.  Thus, Ben began cooking and cleaning more.  I focused on the laundry.  It worked rather well.

Breaking up household tasks was easy.  Breaking up who gets up with the baby was harder, is still hard.

With Emily, Ben and I would both get up.  He would change the diapers, I would take care of the feedings (obviously).  It was an arrangement that worked quite well.

When Andrew arrived, things changed.  I was no longer juggling school and mothering.  I became a fully certified stay-at-home mom.  Ben, though, is busier.  Between 4 part-time jobs (equaling about 20-25 hours per week total), 16-17 credits of pre-med courses, and MCAT studying, his time is limited.  He stays up later than me and usually gets up earlier than me.  It seemed logical, in my mind, that he forgo night time duties.  I didn't explain this shift to him, I just stopped waking him up at night.

A week or so ago, I explained to Ben that Andrew would probably sleep longer through the night if I would get up to change him rather than just allowing him to find comfort in eating.  I just don't want to deal with getting up and changing him.  So, because of my laziness, I am actually getting less sleep. Ben reminded me that he can also help.  If I give him Andrew, he would be happy to change him.  Yet, it seems illogical that both of us lose sleep.  I figure that since I am home all day, I should solely handle Andrew at night.

My question for you is this.  Should I include Ben in night time tasks if he is already getting less sleep than I am?  If yes, how can I do this without burdening him even more?

Alternatively, any advice on kicking my lazy habit of not changing Andrew's diaper in the middle of the night? That is probably more pressing.

Thank you, in advance, for any advice you share.

My Kids Hate Me

Before I continue, I want to make something clear:  I can't complain about my night's sleep.  When I am tired, I am completely to blame.  However, I can complain about my babies recent naptime sleeping--or lack thereof.

I find naptimes to be slightly more essential than nighttime sleep.  See, it is during naptimes that I take a shower, do the dishes, and write.  It is also during naptime that I gather my energy to make dinner, take walks, and start laundry.  So, when nap times are compromised, I become grumpy and my house becomes dirty.

Lately, my kids have been doing tag napping.  You know, when one falls asleep the other wakes up.  It is very aggravating.  It has led me to the conclusion that my kids hate me.  This must be true.  Why else would they put me through so much torture?

Now, if you are looking to excuse my children, it is because you don't know them.  Sure, they might look angelic,

but deep down they are devious little creatures. I should know.

Take Andrew.  He used to sleep moderately well.  He would at least give me a half hour to an hour of good napping 3-4 times a day.  I can do that.  Lately?  He has been fighting sleep.  After vigorous rocking, he might close his eyes.  But, the instant I put him down--BAM! He wakes up.

I did expect this.  He is 4 months after all.  His sister did the same thing around this time.  It doesn't make it any easier.

Emily, on the other hand, sleeps pretty well hen she wants to sleep.  If she does not want to sleep, she is grumpy.  She whines and has melt downs when I give her something besides cookies to eat.

After a day or two of their ornery sleep habits, I pout.  I'm pretty good at pouting.  I will put on a movie (I'm on a classics roll right now) and let them go crazy while I sit and inwardly moan and groan.

It's funny when epiphanies hit.  While writing this sarcastic, and somewhat true, post I realized something.  I really have a good life.  Sure, my kids may drive me nuts with their non-sleeping habits, but I know that phase will end too quickly.  Before I know it, they will be leaving the house.  Then I will have quiet.  I will be able to nap when I want and write when I want. Strangely enough, I'm sure I will miss this time.

I  think I will go and kiss my little babies' faces.  This sleeping thing will not last forever,  the joy they bring to me will.

The Rapids

I've been floating easily along this parenting river,  lazily dipping my hands and feet in the clear, cold water when I started to feel overheated.  My inner tube, constructed out of patience, joy, and confidence, held my lithe body as I used my hands and feet to work through the little snags that occasionally threatened to halt my progression.  I didn't anticipate the rapids that were waiting for me around the next corner.

When I reached them, I managed very well at first.  I stayed calm as I turned my inner tube this way and that, avoiding the rocks and other debris that attempted to throw me out of my vessel and into the water.  But my shortsightedness failed to see the big rock slightly covered by the raging rapids.

I hit it at full speed and fell, tumbling into the dangerous cold water.

*************

Andrew has cried for much of the day the last 2 weeks.

At first,  I did very well.  I held him in my rocking chair and softly sang his favorite lullabies.  When he would sleep, I would hurriedly clean and make dinner.

Until this week.

This week,  Andrew's naps have been sporadic.  I put him down and he begins to whimper.  His whimper turns into cries which abruptly become piercing screams if he is not picked up immediately.  It is like post-colic colic.

I hit that rock last night.

After battling his cries all day, I thought he would finally sleep when the evening came.  My hopes were dashed as he started another round.

I looked at him and told him to stop.  Not very motherly, huh?

Ben heard my tone and glanced up from his notebook.  Something in my appearance must have frightened him because he came over and took Andrew from my arms.  He sent me to bed, promising he would take care of our little guy.

*************

I catch hold of my inner tube,  clinging to it for dear life.  My legs and arms are covered with scratches and bruises.  My head hurts from the fall.  But,  I am safe.  I am safe!

The tube guides me to safety.  I land on the riverbank and begin to sob.  My heart is full of gratitude.

*************

I know Andrew will feel better soon.  It is going to be rough until he gets there.  Still,  when I see his face and hear his cries, my heart aches for my poor little guy.

*************

I am making my rounds around the net.  It will take me awhile to catch up with all of your delightful blogs,  but I am coming.

As for my 10 things list?  I will be completing it shortly.  Sometimes I must roll with the twists and turns of my life.  This is one of those times.