Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Dear Ferber
You suck. However, today, on the fourth day of using your techniques for naptime, Tristan stopped crying and fell asleep approximately 4 seconds after I left his bedroom. Keep in mind that neither Josey nor Roanen could fall asleep without someone touching them until well after their second birthdays. I'm liking you right now, but you still suck.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
The Sleep
Yes, the sleep is still an issue. One that is slowly getting better, but still an issue. The last I blogged about it, the PLAN was going to be put into effect. The PLAN involved a dream feed to ensure non-hungriness through the night, and the "put-down" technique from the Baby Whisperer ("Yeah, well your momma is so fat..." Oh wait, not that kind of put-down.) It starting working within a few nights. He was definitely sleeping much longer stretches and didn't require much effort to get back to sleep, then he got a stomach bug and started waking up thanks to explosive poos and angry-red sore bum. This went on for TWO FREAKING WEEKS and I ended up nursing him whenever he got up because I was worried about dehydration, not to mention the fact that it's pretty impossible to settle a cranky baby with a burning ring of fire any other way. To top it off, Roanen had diarrhea for a week during this time and required nightly diaper changes, and Josey also got it, but his involved him coming into our room complaining about a stomach ache, then a frantic dash to the toilet where he screamed bloody murder because of the stomach cramps. And repeat. And repeat. Oh, and did I mention that I had it too? Fun!
Anyway, after that nightmare I'm fairly certain I started the training again, but can't seem to remember much about it. It might have been working to a point. It might have involved hours on end of him screaming. I do remember a couple of rough mornings where I finally dragged him downstairs at 6 AM after he screamed his fool head off from 4 AM on. There was also a period where he would fool around at naptime so I would leave the room and he actually settled himself and went to sleep. Then it stopped, but I don't know why. Frankly, the last several years of sleep training/deprivation/hell have all blurred into each other and I can't recall details. I THINK it was sometime around the "settling himself" phase that he started sleeping longer stretches at night. The problem was that the longer stretch usually ended somewhere between 3:30 and 5:00 and he was all AWAKEGETMEOUTOFHERE*SCREAM**SCREAM*ALLDONESLEEPINGNOWNOWNOW*SCREAM* and while I can deal with the waking at night to a point, the early rising just isn't my bag, baby. At some point he would consistently sleep until 5 AM and that was it. He won that round, and I actually dragged myself downstairs with him and discovered that if I nursed him he would play quietly for a bit while I watched reruns of House on Showcase. Those were loooooong mornings, made extra fun by the fact that while he wouldn't go back to bed at 5, he was still exhausted and wanted to pass out by 7:30 so he could have a nice half hour nap. Not even enough time for me to snooze at the same time, even if I wasn't rushing around trying to get Josey ready for the bus.
Fortunately the wake-up call got a little later, and while he still only sleeps right through about a third of the time, he's generally ok to settle down in the night and sleep until a tolerable 6 AM or later. He even slept until 7:40 one morning which pissed me off to no end since I had to get up with the other boys. Naturally during this time Roanen has decided to get up between 1 and 4 times a night so it's not like we're getting any sleep. Heavens, no!
Once nighttime got a little better, bedtime and naptime deteriorated to the point that it was taking me at least 30 minutes to get him to sleep, three times each day. He would lie down and start to go to sleep while I rubbed his back. Then he would suddenly sit up, or start talking to the flowers on the wall, or just generally fool around and I would get pissed off and leave. Then he'd cry. Then I'd listen to the crying. Then I'd go back in and he'd lie down as if he was so very sorry he'd fooled around and he'll go to sleep if I'll just stay with him, then it would start all over again. Meanwhile, Russ could put him in the crib, sit on the couch, and he would be asleep in minutes. Likewise in the middle of the night if he got up - after much crying and flinging himself around the crib, I'd get sick of it and make Russ go in to him. I'd hear the crying, then a loud "SHHH!", then silence, and Russ would be back in bed in 2 minutes. Not. Fair.
On Sunday I decided enough was enough and started Ferberizing him (yes, I said Ferberizing) for naps. Two days later and it's taken him less than 10 minutes to get to sleep on his own for naps. No, I don't wish I'd done it earlier, but *knock on wood* it seems to be working so far. Hopefully it will eliminate night wakings too, but I'm not holding my breath. I am not even that close to being lucky.
As for the boobage, I dropped the daytime feeds about a week ago and he hasn't had a dream feed for 3 nights, so I think the milk bar is closed. Feels weird, but I don't miss it. He does, however, and every once in a while he gets that look in his eyes and starts pawing at my shirt. All the more reason to stop.
So that's about it. Long story..um..long.
Anyway, after that nightmare I'm fairly certain I started the training again, but can't seem to remember much about it. It might have been working to a point. It might have involved hours on end of him screaming. I do remember a couple of rough mornings where I finally dragged him downstairs at 6 AM after he screamed his fool head off from 4 AM on. There was also a period where he would fool around at naptime so I would leave the room and he actually settled himself and went to sleep. Then it stopped, but I don't know why. Frankly, the last several years of sleep training/deprivation/hell have all blurred into each other and I can't recall details. I THINK it was sometime around the "settling himself" phase that he started sleeping longer stretches at night. The problem was that the longer stretch usually ended somewhere between 3:30 and 5:00 and he was all AWAKEGETMEOUTOFHERE*SCREAM**SCREAM*ALLDONESLEEPINGNOWNOWNOW*SCREAM* and while I can deal with the waking at night to a point, the early rising just isn't my bag, baby. At some point he would consistently sleep until 5 AM and that was it. He won that round, and I actually dragged myself downstairs with him and discovered that if I nursed him he would play quietly for a bit while I watched reruns of House on Showcase. Those were loooooong mornings, made extra fun by the fact that while he wouldn't go back to bed at 5, he was still exhausted and wanted to pass out by 7:30 so he could have a nice half hour nap. Not even enough time for me to snooze at the same time, even if I wasn't rushing around trying to get Josey ready for the bus.
Fortunately the wake-up call got a little later, and while he still only sleeps right through about a third of the time, he's generally ok to settle down in the night and sleep until a tolerable 6 AM or later. He even slept until 7:40 one morning which pissed me off to no end since I had to get up with the other boys. Naturally during this time Roanen has decided to get up between 1 and 4 times a night so it's not like we're getting any sleep. Heavens, no!
Once nighttime got a little better, bedtime and naptime deteriorated to the point that it was taking me at least 30 minutes to get him to sleep, three times each day. He would lie down and start to go to sleep while I rubbed his back. Then he would suddenly sit up, or start talking to the flowers on the wall, or just generally fool around and I would get pissed off and leave. Then he'd cry. Then I'd listen to the crying. Then I'd go back in and he'd lie down as if he was so very sorry he'd fooled around and he'll go to sleep if I'll just stay with him, then it would start all over again. Meanwhile, Russ could put him in the crib, sit on the couch, and he would be asleep in minutes. Likewise in the middle of the night if he got up - after much crying and flinging himself around the crib, I'd get sick of it and make Russ go in to him. I'd hear the crying, then a loud "SHHH!", then silence, and Russ would be back in bed in 2 minutes. Not. Fair.
On Sunday I decided enough was enough and started Ferberizing him (yes, I said Ferberizing) for naps. Two days later and it's taken him less than 10 minutes to get to sleep on his own for naps. No, I don't wish I'd done it earlier, but *knock on wood* it seems to be working so far. Hopefully it will eliminate night wakings too, but I'm not holding my breath. I am not even that close to being lucky.
As for the boobage, I dropped the daytime feeds about a week ago and he hasn't had a dream feed for 3 nights, so I think the milk bar is closed. Feels weird, but I don't miss it. He does, however, and every once in a while he gets that look in his eyes and starts pawing at my shirt. All the more reason to stop.
So that's about it. Long story..um..long.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
You're Welcome?
This morning in a burst of good-motherness I made crepes for breakfast. Since I had a leftover can of Thanksgiving whipped cream in the fridge I made two eyes and a smile on each of the boys' crepes and presented them with a flourish. Josey's response: "Awww thanks for putting a puking frog on my crepe Mommy!"
Monday, October 06, 2008
Lazy, But Competitive
Every night after bath Josey and Roanen are supposed to clean up the zillions of books that they have spread around their room before coming downstairs for a snack. A few nights ago I walked into their room during this time to check on their progress since it was suspiciously quiet. I found Josey sitting on the floor reading with Roanen holding on to his earlobe and peeking at the book over his shoulder. I asked whether they were planning on finishing the job and Josey got up to grab more books to put away. Roanen jumped to his feet, looked at me with a pained expression, and said, very dramatically, "It's too hard! This book is just too heavy!" He picked up a book and, bending over like it weighed 40 pounds, held it by the fingertips. "See? It's just too too heavy for me!" The book dropped out of his fingertips. "Oh! I just can't hold it because it's TOO TOO HEAVY!" Josey raised his eyebrows, bent over, picked up the book and put it on the bookshelf and Roanen immediately screamed "NO, I WANTED TO PUT THAT BOOK AWAY!", grabbed it off the shelf, then gently put it right back on the bookshelf.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
6 Random Things - No Rules Version
I was tagged for a meme by my brother, only because he only has a couple of blogging friends and I was filler. I'm insulted. Just for that I'll do the meme, but I'm not going to follow the rules, just to show him. Or maybe I won't follow the rules because I actually don't know anyone who blogs so I can't tag them. Whatever. Here are my 6 random things:
1) When I was a senior in high school my best friend and I decided that instead of having our own lockers we would both just use hers because it was in closer proximity to the lockers of cute boys. Somehow we managed to fit in all our textbooks and binders, a flute, a clarinet (oh I was cool), random grooming items, plus we tossed in a toaster, kettle, tea bags, hot chocolate, a couple of mugs, some bowls, and a big box of Life cereal. It was totally pimped out in a wannabe-housewife teenaged girl kind of way. Sadly enough, a few days after we were spotted making use of our small appliances there was an announcement on the PA system that students weren't allowed to use them. Our school sucked.
2) The liquor store gives me panic attacks. I could spend hours in there looking at all the stuff, but I have to psych myself up every time I go in because I think the people that work there are looking at me and thinking I'm under 19. Last week when I had to get some wine for cooking I was looking through my purse for my ID and Russ burst my bubble by disdainfully saying "They're not going to ask you - you're, like, 30!" The age thing aside, I figure the employees also look down on me because they somehow know that I know nothing about wine or liquor and that makes me classless. Or something.
3) Sometimes I don't sort my colours and whites when laundering. Martha would definitely not approve, but I don't think Martha has ever had to IMMEDIATELY wash white, pee-soaked sheets when there is nothing else dirty but a couple of beige towels, 3 pastel washcloths and some navy blue baby clothes.
4) A spelling bee in grade 9 affected the entire course of my life. In that spelling bee I won an introductory lesson in karate, where I then met a boyfriend whose sister suggested I apply for a job at the salon she worked at, where I became friends with one of the hairstylists who brought me to a bar in the sticks where Russ was the head doorman. And the rest is history. Also, I will never misspell the word "charlatan" again.
5) When I was around 9 or 10, my brother and I would play a game at the cottage in which we'd go into my bedroom and one of us would put a sleeping bag over our entire body and try to catch the other one. Kind of like Marco Polo, without the Marcos and Polos. I always really liked the dream-like feeling I got from being the one in the sleeping bag, which I now know was most likely lack of oxygen. I often wonder how many brain cells we lost doing that. I could have gone to Yale...
6) I have a problem with the way toilets are designed these days. On the outside under the tank the ceramic (is it ceramic? I don't know.) is molded around the pipes and the look of it repulses me. They might as well have a sign back there on all toilets that says "Look here! This is the exact path your POOP takes!" Frankly, I don't care to think about poop once it's flushed, ok? When we renovated the bathroom in our old house I specifically bought the one toilet with flat sides. We then promptly sold the house and moved into one with decorative poop pipe toilets.
The End. I choose to tag NO ONE.
1) When I was a senior in high school my best friend and I decided that instead of having our own lockers we would both just use hers because it was in closer proximity to the lockers of cute boys. Somehow we managed to fit in all our textbooks and binders, a flute, a clarinet (oh I was cool), random grooming items, plus we tossed in a toaster, kettle, tea bags, hot chocolate, a couple of mugs, some bowls, and a big box of Life cereal. It was totally pimped out in a wannabe-housewife teenaged girl kind of way. Sadly enough, a few days after we were spotted making use of our small appliances there was an announcement on the PA system that students weren't allowed to use them. Our school sucked.
2) The liquor store gives me panic attacks. I could spend hours in there looking at all the stuff, but I have to psych myself up every time I go in because I think the people that work there are looking at me and thinking I'm under 19. Last week when I had to get some wine for cooking I was looking through my purse for my ID and Russ burst my bubble by disdainfully saying "They're not going to ask you - you're, like, 30!" The age thing aside, I figure the employees also look down on me because they somehow know that I know nothing about wine or liquor and that makes me classless. Or something.
3) Sometimes I don't sort my colours and whites when laundering. Martha would definitely not approve, but I don't think Martha has ever had to IMMEDIATELY wash white, pee-soaked sheets when there is nothing else dirty but a couple of beige towels, 3 pastel washcloths and some navy blue baby clothes.
4) A spelling bee in grade 9 affected the entire course of my life. In that spelling bee I won an introductory lesson in karate, where I then met a boyfriend whose sister suggested I apply for a job at the salon she worked at, where I became friends with one of the hairstylists who brought me to a bar in the sticks where Russ was the head doorman. And the rest is history. Also, I will never misspell the word "charlatan" again.
5) When I was around 9 or 10, my brother and I would play a game at the cottage in which we'd go into my bedroom and one of us would put a sleeping bag over our entire body and try to catch the other one. Kind of like Marco Polo, without the Marcos and Polos. I always really liked the dream-like feeling I got from being the one in the sleeping bag, which I now know was most likely lack of oxygen. I often wonder how many brain cells we lost doing that. I could have gone to Yale...
6) I have a problem with the way toilets are designed these days. On the outside under the tank the ceramic (is it ceramic? I don't know.) is molded around the pipes and the look of it repulses me. They might as well have a sign back there on all toilets that says "Look here! This is the exact path your POOP takes!" Frankly, I don't care to think about poop once it's flushed, ok? When we renovated the bathroom in our old house I specifically bought the one toilet with flat sides. We then promptly sold the house and moved into one with decorative poop pipe toilets.
The End. I choose to tag NO ONE.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Mmmmm Tofurkey
After several unsuccessful attempts at veggie dogs the boys unknowingly scarfed down veggie turkey amidst exclamations of "Wow! This turkey tastes just like pepperettes!". Other than the horrible breath it gives them, my only problem is that I'm afraid that the teacher thinks I'm sending really low quality lunch meat sandwiches to school with Josey. I mean, the stuff is gray and smells like someone really tried hard to cover up the smell of chicken lips and arseholes with excessive spices. Last night I told Josey the truth, hoping his big mouth will share it with the class and no one will think I'm feeding my kids nitrate-filled crap. Because I'm sure the teacher who brings Yogos, chocolate cookies and white bread sandwiches to school will be relieved to know.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Things I Learned Yesterday About Chicken Killin'
1) Guys who kill chickens for a living reeeeeally like having to walk up a steep hill to the coop, then stumble down it carrying six flailing chickens at a time.
2) When flailing chickens are caught and carried around by the leg they squawk "OWWWWWWWWWWW!" Yes, exactly like that.
3) Chicken killers smirk when you make comments about the chickens and their "feelings". Then they zap them to death while they're hanging upside down and slit their throats right in front of you. Totally harsh.
4) Chicken killin' has a smell. Kind of a wet cooked feather/entrail/blood, blood and MORE blood smell. A smell that gets stuck in your nose, especially if you've just had to peel bloody water-soaked clothes off of little boys who danced with glee in puddles and revelled in the fun that is zapped, headless, drippy chickens and OH MY GOD GET THE SMELL AWAY.
5) SO not a good idea to come into the house after experiencing chicken killin' to a slow cooker full of chicken stew. Roanen flat out refused to eat it, and I can't really blame him.
On the schedule for today: reaching into freezing cold barrels of chickeny water for chickens that need to be weighed and bagged. In 10 degree weather. Fun!
2) When flailing chickens are caught and carried around by the leg they squawk "OWWWWWWWWWWW!" Yes, exactly like that.
3) Chicken killers smirk when you make comments about the chickens and their "feelings". Then they zap them to death while they're hanging upside down and slit their throats right in front of you. Totally harsh.
4) Chicken killin' has a smell. Kind of a wet cooked feather/entrail/blood, blood and MORE blood smell. A smell that gets stuck in your nose, especially if you've just had to peel bloody water-soaked clothes off of little boys who danced with glee in puddles and revelled in the fun that is zapped, headless, drippy chickens and OH MY GOD GET THE SMELL AWAY.
5) SO not a good idea to come into the house after experiencing chicken killin' to a slow cooker full of chicken stew. Roanen flat out refused to eat it, and I can't really blame him.
On the schedule for today: reaching into freezing cold barrels of chickeny water for chickens that need to be weighed and bagged. In 10 degree weather. Fun!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Ummmmm, OK...
Last week we were having dinner and Josey looked up and said "What's that bell?" to which I responded "What bell?". "That one!" he insisted, and immediately our old time-out timer loudly went off in the other room. Freaky.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
And So It Begins...
Josey is officially a kindergartener. A lunchbag-toting, backpack-wearing, schoolbus-travelling, Catholic school-going kindergartener. He loves it. And I'm OK.
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