Sleepless In See-I-Told-You-So

I very clearly remember a conversation I had with Trevor before Berit was born. We were talking about my soft spot for children and animals, and he said, "Oh no. You're never going to be able to let a baby cry it out, are you?" And I said, confidently: "Sure I am. If I know it's for our child's own good, I'll be fine with it."

HA. Double HA.

When Berit was born I became a nighttime weakling. My first mistake was letting her sleep in our bed, but that's a different post altogether. It does, however, illustrate my lack of a backbone when the sun sets. 

I don't know why. During the daytime I run a fairly tight ship, and the kids respond well to it. But there's something about their neediness at night; like, how could they manipulate me when they're sleeping? I can count the time they've spent on this planet in DAYS. They must be hungry, they must be sad, they must be scared. They need their mama! 

Most of the books say to let the babies "cry it out," in one way or another. I always clung to the authors who questioned those theories, wondering why anyone would let an infant cry themselves to a sobbing sleep. 

However. The day came when it was ridiculous for Berit to nurse every hour at night (OK, it was long overdue), which coincidently came right around the time I found out I was pregnant for Marta. I knew I didn't have long to get sleep -- any sleep -- before I was up with a newborn again. I also knew that if Berit wasn't sleeping through the night at age two, she probably never would sleep well. So Trevor went to her when she cried, and she did cry more, and it was hard, and I held the bed listening to the monitor so I wouldn't jump up and go to her. But it worked. (I do have to admit that I was glad she was older and not a tiny baby.)

And now, here we are with #2. To tell the truth, I haven't minded a whole lot when Marta woke a couple times during the night. And I still don't mind. But my friend Lori was telling me that she and her hub made their youngest cry it out, and she's sleeping like a dream these days. And, she's two months younger than Marta. So I'm thinking about it, but I'm so, so wimpy about it. On one hand, those 10:30, 1:30 and 4:30 (roughly) wakings aren't killing me. But a full night of sleep? Really? I don't know what I'd do with myself and all my energy.

So stay tuned, because soon I'll be weepy about nighttime neglect, bolstered by newfound sleep or bemoaning my weakness when it comes to babies. The good news: She's getting bigger every day. 

It's Not Easy Missing Green

I don't remember when Berit's obsession with the color green started. My mother-in-law claims it was when she took Berit to Hallmark a year-and-a-half ago and let her pick our her own Crocs, and she picked green. My mom thinks it's because of oh I don't know, something that she bought Berit, which has slipped my mind because really I think my mom made it up to best my mother-in-law in the green-love department. I personally think it was just there in Berit, and she never had the chance to voice her opinion on colors because she was a baby, and then suddenly there was a wall of Crocs in front of her and she could point and be heard.

Anyway. Berit loves ("loves-loves-LOVES") the color green. There has never been another choice for her; and when she has said she liked another color to get the popsicle I had or because her blanket is blue and she loves her blanket best, she always added: "But I love green."

She sometimes dresses in all green. She needs green food, if possible. If something green is presented to her, she makes an impressed face, where she opens her eyes into circles and gives herself a double chin by pushing her face back while keeping her shoulders forward. When other people wear green, she likes them. When other people who are close to her wear green, she says, "Thank you for wearing green for me." I think you get the picture.

The Green has crept into our lives like slime, oozing into our own choices. I saw a green diaper bag at the store, and had to have it, where two years ago I may not have looked twice. When we shop, we have to be careful not to buy too much green for ourselves, because it's the first color we reach for. I deliberately dress Marta in other colors, to keep green special for Berit. It's weird, I know.

A few months back Berit became interested in Cinderella. I'm not sure why (I have a sneaking suspicion the grandmothers pushed it, but no harm done), because we don't watch the movie really and we never introduced it to her ourselves. Recently, however, her interest has grown into an all-out lovefest, where she has to wear the same Cinderella outfit every day and EVERY NIGHT and the same old blue headband because she thinks it's Cinderella's and prefers that we address her as Cinderella.

And she has started asking for blue things. Not more than green things, but she is choosing another color occasionally, and it's so strange for me. I don't like it. I'm a little mad at Cinderella. I was quite pleased that Berit wasn't being all pink-stereotypical-girly-etc. 

And now Trevor's rushing me to end my computer time and I can't think of a proper way to close this post, and it will seem meaningless and a waste of your good reading time. Maybe I'll think of something profound to add to it later, but until then, the green girl is still reigning, just in an imposter's blue dress.

Last Night

7 p.m.: Kids asleep

10 p.m.: Lisa in bed

10:15 p.m.: Marta wakes for a feeding

10:30 p.m.: Trevor in bed

10:45 p.m.: Lisa in bed

1:30 a.m.: Marta wakes for a feeding

3:30 a.m.: Lisa wakes Trevor up to hang out with Marta, who has been up since 1:30 a.m. happily awake.

4:30 a.m.: Lisa takes Marta from Trevor and is able to relax her enough to leave her in her bed and hope she falls asleep.

4:31 a.m.: Lisa in bed, Marta possibly falls asleep but no one knows because we are too tired to listen to the monitor.

6 a.m.: Berit wakes. Lisa wakes Trevor up. Trevor goes upstairs to lie with Berit, to convince her to go back to sleep.

6:30 a.m.: Lisa wakes when she notices Trevor is back in bed. "Is Berit asleep?" she asks. "No," he replies. "She's watching TV."

7 a.m.: Marta wakes.

A note about two nights ago...

Marta woke around 2 a.m. for a feeding and I pulled the monitor over to me to watch her with the hope she'd go back to sleep. She did, and I fell asleep with the monitor's screen on, two inches from my face. A couple minutes later I woke up because of the bright light from the screen, and noticed a GIANT STINK BUG on the screen TWO INCHES FROM MY FACE. IN MY BED. Do I even need to write all the possibilities here? In my mouth, hair, crawling all over my body, how long had it lived in my sheets? Trevor woke up and said, "That's weird, those bugs usually only like warm environments." Um, like my ear canal? In that spot at the bottom of the bed where my feet are?

Sick Day

My last post was about Marta acting out-of-sorts and me waiting the long, scary wait for the throw-up in the crib. And now I'm waiting even harder, if you can do that, because I spent my entire day throwing up and doing another unpleasant act of stomach flu-dom. At the same time, no less. It was a messy day.

None of my family members are sick yet, so I can only hope that God is sparing them and not actually getting my illness out of the way so I'm healthy enough and have already been exposed to the virus so I can take care of the rest of them. 

It's not that I am so afraid of a little kid vomit. It's that I'm terrified of the overnight kid vomit. The sheets, the pajamas, the face/hair/hands/ears/neck being coated and the babies unable to open their eyes because the last thing they knew they were sleeping and then suddenly they're letting loose in every direction, not knowing to turn their heads, and now have their eyes covered in throw-up.

I seem to be OK now, after a non-fun day of laying in bed while my saintly mother-in-law took care of the children here at the house, risking her own good health.

Oddly enough, the entire time I was laying in bed I was thinking about my friend Amy, who was on left-side-only bedrest for three months while pregnant with her twins three years ago. I was sore from laying in bed for three hours! I know it sounds so pitiful, poor Lisa who never gets any sleep was sore from sleeping so much. That's not what I mean; I enjoyed the sleep and was grateful for it. But sheesh, you'd think I never spent any time snoozing, that's all. Maybe it's another sign from God -- I need to sleep much, much more often, so when I'm bed-ridden I will enjoy it fully.

Waiting

Marta was out-of-sorts today; funny about naps, funny about eating and drinking way more than usual. Lots of laying her head on my shoulder, which is sweet for me but leads me to believe that she is probably getting sick. Oh Marta. You're so joyful and adorable, and it makes us all sad when you're sick. 

Hovering

I couldn't wait for Marta to walk. For the first 12 months of her life, I pined for her independence every day. That's not to say I didn't appreciate her babyness or that I don't enjoy spending time with her. It's more that I became spoiled in having a toddler who can do just about anything on her own within reason (this morning she changed channels on the TV to find Dora. I know lots of kids can do this but our remote control is tricky and I was impressed.), and I'm not used to following someone around every second of every day anymore. It's strange but I guess fairly universal that moms tend to forget the taxing parts of parenthood. Just ask any in-law, right? (Wink-wink.) (This is not to imply anything negative about my own in-laws, who are great. I'm simply commenting that our parents seem to have forgotten most of the hard stuff, and reminisce about how they "just did this" or how they were "more relaxed/more vigilant/more creative/etc." when they were new parents. Do I even need to explain this?)

Anyway. Now that Marta is walking, it's not all I had it cracked up to be in my mind. In fact, I'm starting to remember putting up gates, taking down knee-high choking hazards and padding every edge in our house (much to Trevor's disgust, because those corner pieces aren't cute). 

These days, even with the new Christmas toys all over the floor, Marta only wants to walk. Unfortunately, she's not walking quite like I'd imagined (like a nearly-3-year-old, I mean). Do you remember how a baby walks? Arms raised, feet stomping, knees up-knees down, wobble-wobble. So that leaves me stooped down, rushing along behind her, arms raised halfway, elbows bent to form an imaginary inner tube around her in case she comes crashing down in any direction. It's a lovely look for me.

It also leaves me with my back turned to Berit most of the day, running away from her and after Marta. Of course, I hate this. 

I was thinking today about when Berit was in this stage, and I don't remember it passing quickly. This is my job for the next few months. My girlfriend Beth, who has twin boys a couple months older than Berit, and I used to joke that "when they're 18 months old everything will be different." (We now customize this joke for whatever stage is next in our kids' lives.)

But it did give us hope. It's not that I don't love my baby, and I know I'll miss her roly-poly cuddliness when she's a toddler. But I'm looking forward to letting her go a little, and playing as a family instead of one-on-one, or worse, one-on-one and one alone. 

As for now, you can always find me hovering around our Little One, supporting her walk to freedom and fantasizing about brushing my teeth instead.

New Year's Day 2009

(My checks won't reflect this change for at least a month.)

Five years ago was my best New Year's Day. It was our first as a married couple, and we woke up neither late nor early -- probably around 8 a.m. or so. We went to a coffee shop for breakfast, then to my favorite bookstore, McLean & Eakin, and wandered around for -- who was watching the clock then? -- a little while. We went back to the coffee shop next door, nabbed a window seat, ordered coffees (probably a fancy one for Trevor, probably a Breve for me) and read our books. Then, when we were hungry again and saw that it was lunchtime, we ordered lunch. And read some more. We people-watched out the window, then went out for dinner. 

It sounds so boring, doesn't it? It probably was to Trevor, who likes much, much, much more action. But I loved it; it couldn't have been better. 

Since then things have been different. We have two kids now, and our New Year's Days (not to mention our New Year's Eves) have changed significantly. Trevor's not very OK with this; for me it's just par for the course. I'm not the kind of mom who can leave her kids easily, so if I know it'll be difficult for them when I'm gone, I won't enjoy myself. And since I've been nursing a baby for the past three New Year's Eves, I haven't done much, but it doesn't bother me. 

Last night was funny. Even though we didn't have much planned besides a good dinner for Trevor and me, I was really excited. Maybe it was just the idea that it was a holiday, or that I'd be challenged to stay awake until midnight, or that my family would probably be calling at a ridiculous hour to welcome 2009 with well wishes. Whatever it was, I was a little giddy about being home. Our kids go to bed nice and early, so by 7 p.m Trevor was cleaning the house and I was cooking. The menu: Colossal King Crab Legs; shrimp with parsley, sesame seeds and chili powder; crab cakes; risotto and spinach. So very, very delicious. 

We bunkered down in our pajamas to watch Casino Royale and Trevor promptly fell asleep. After trying to wake him and failing, I went to bed. My family left messages on the machine and Trevor said he came in at midnight and kissed me on the head. We're a wild and crazy bunch. :)

This morning I made blueberry pancakes and Swiss cheese eggs and napped when Marta did. Then we took the girls to lunch at The City Park Grill, where they both ate like champions and we let them have ice cream. Then we went to McLean & Eakin, where we read books to the girls and let Berit pick two (both Dora books about dancing). We came home, and Trevor's now napping while Marta does and later we'll take them to the waterpark. 

I have to say, even though life is more slow-paced and we're not out partying the night away, I think it's going pretty nicely. Today reminded me of a new version of my favorite New Year's Day, and I love that we've adapted it to work with our kids, instead of pining away for a day all to ourselves (something that would be very easy to do). 

I don't mean to sound like we've got it all figured out. It's just one of those days when things work out, and it makes me feel like a good parent. Maybe it's a sign of things to come in the New Year.