The Wonder Weeks

Okay people, know something. Know that I've read A LOT about parenting. While I can't say reading volumes has made me any better of a mother I will say I've learned how to sift the crap from the crap, so to speak. A lot of books about parenting say the same thing over and over again while the others make you feel inadequate if your child doesn't fit the mold. I learned pretty much from the moment I had Henry that all of these books need to be taken with a grain of salt. Having said all that please know it takes quite a bit for me to get excited about a parenting book.

In my frustration with Henry's sleep habits I've been talking with many of my mom friends, commiserating, venting, complaining. Right around the time Henry turned 4 months a friend mentioned the words "sleep regression" -- almost like a whisper, a murmur of some sinister thing that people just don't talk about. Then it came up with another friend, The Mean Mommy said, "You won't find it any book. Google it."

I'm starting to believe.

I hit Google so fast it would make your head spin and sure enough people are talking about these regressions and they are real! It was almost like a funny validation to find these posts and discussions online. Reading them felt like someone took me by the hand and said, "Don't you worry dear, there is a reason for all this but it will get better."

Sleep regressions refer to the deteriorating sleep patterns you can see just before or during a neurological growth spurt. The demand placed on a child just as he or she is going to acquire a new skill is enough to throw them completely off kilter and thus make them not find deep sleep. The book that I'm drooling over lately is this: The Wonder Weeks: How to Turn Your Baby's 8 Great Fussy Phases into Magical Leaps Forward

Tragically, its out of print and thus ridiculously expensive to purchase. If you are lucky enough to have a copy at your local library I highly suggest you go and get your hands on it and renew it repetitively. I, myself, was able to obtain a copy at my library but some other obsessed parent has requested it so sadly soon they are going to attempt to pry it off me. Jerks.

But the dork in me had taken this book, chapter by chapter and summarized it. I did it for my own benefit, but the humanitarian in me is willing to share. If you email me I will send you my notes, no strings attached (just be sure to put the words "Wonder Weeks" in the subject line of your email.) At the time of this posting I still have a few chapters to cover, but if you are patient I promise it will be better than 90% of the parenting "literature" out there.

The standoff

Now truly, honestly THIS is the post that years from now my son is going to read and say, "Ma, really? You had to tell the world about that?" But I can't help it, I'm elated.

I'm elated about crap. Not a general theoretical reference, but actual crap.

We've had somewhat of a blockage here in our house the last few days. We started cereal last week, and while its been fun I couldn't help but notice the effect its played on my son's GI tract. "Iron Fortified" it says on the box but it fails to also promote that it will make you child's little bum the baby equivalent of Fort Knox. I was starting to get concerned.

In chatting with other mom friends I knew there were such remedies as adding a little prune juice to his bottle, and even more extreme... glycerin suppositories. In just thinking about it I decided that if we had to go the suppository route that it was definitely a daddy job (which of course he emphatically disagreed with.)

However, miracles of miracles this morning, just hours before I planned to call his pediatrician, we all got some relief. I noticed Henry's tell-tale red face grunting and wah-lah! I was actually happy to find the single nastiest, thickest paste of crappy diaper. Even Jim, who often claims whatever diaper he is stuck with is the absolute worst to date, agree this one took the cake.

I can only imagine what we are going to see when we start real food. Good lord.

Holy hair loss

As if accepting myself in my new post-partum body wasn't hard enough, lately I've been finding full handfuls of my hair are falling out. After reading up on it, I know not to be concerned. Apparently its a balancing effect after all the lustrous locks I gained while with child, but dear God this is GROSS. I'm constantly pulling long strands off the boy, and every time I wash my hair within minutes I'm standing in 2 inches of water for my sheddings that have slowed the drain. Bleck.

If that weren't enough, my once blemish-free skin is anything but. What the heck, hormones? Why you gotta be like that? Combine all this with the few extra pounds I still need to shed and man oh man, I am feeling like one fine looking momma.

Did I mention I've been living in sweatpants this winter?
Hotness.

sleep log: day 127

First I need to send a huge thank you out to my friends and family. Truly this has been a challenge with Henry's night wakings, but I do know I have the most wonderful support system in place. If nothing else, knowing that I can vent my grievances to you guys is absolutely the best therapy.

My favorite bit of advice of late has come from someone I consider a mommy-superstar, a mother of THREE. (read: The Mean Mommy) She reminded me that sleep deprivation is the most commonly used form of torture. For some odd reason I find solace and comfort in that. She also suggested I sing DMX lyrics to my son, and I love her for it. ("Ya'll goin' make me LOSE MA MIND! Up in here! Up in here!)

Anyways, because I do feel like so many of you are pulling for us I feel the responsibility to keep you posted on our progress, and there is progress to report. Last night Henry (sound the trumpets) only woke at 11pm and 3am. He was definitely up for the day on the dot of 6am, but yes sir I will take it, and take it with a smile on my face.

AND! Tonight he went down without a fuss, which is something I swear he forgot how to do. It was like magic. He ate his cereal, then stayed up a bit longer while Jim and I had our dinner (because he was all smiles and just too cute to put to bed.) When he started doing his "7 mile stare" and gave us a few yawns, I took him into his room and turned down the lights. I nursed him just a bit, just to top him off and put him down in his crib. I told him a few dozen times how much I loved him and tried to boost his confidence by telling him that he could do this. "Just close your eyes" I said, and I think I pleaded with him to stay asleep until 4am. I will positively die if he complies. You mean, all I had to do was ASK YOU???!!!

So that's the up-to-the-minute latest. Its about this time every night that I get a little nervous and think I should really go to bed right this very second, in preparation for battle. So I'm going to end this here and do exactly that.

A whole lot about sleep....

So Friday night's sleeping performance was most definitely a fluke. A big, fat fluke. Not that I didn't expect that, but it was still hard not to hope that maybe Henry "turned the corner." Alas no, no, no.

I did have a heart to heart with Henry's pediatrician yesterday and I now feel like I have a plan that has been catered to him. I feel the need to write it out, almost like a manifesto or a public declaration of intentions.

The real problem area is sleeping after midnight. Its when all hell breaks loose. The hope is to get him to try and sleep in solid three hour stretches after midnight, which honestly he could have been capable of doing the day he was born, but my man likes to party.

Declaration #1: There will be no more boobs after 7pm, only bottles. Sorry my little man, momma-bonding-time is for the daytime only.

Declaration #2a: When he wakes in the night, he will be given 10 minutes to work it out before we go into his room. If he's still crying after ten minutes, AND its been more than three hours since he last ate he'll get a snack of three ounces and then be put back into his crib. If the bottle doesn't konk him out, he is back on the 10 minute schedule of crying/soothing.

Declaration #2b: The 10 minute crying/soothing schedule is to be implemented if he wakes up before three hours have passed. No bottles before 3 hours.

Declaration #3: Soothing him - for the first hour I will only soothe crib-side and NOT pick him up. If he is still awake after an hour's worth of 10 minute sessions, then I will pick him up and rock him to sleep but try very hard not to hold him for too long. As cold hearted as it sounds we are trying to wean him of his need of me.

That's the plan anyways - sounds so simple when I write it out like that. But oh no, simple it is not.

Allow me to outline our first night on the enforced schedule:

7:45pm - Henry goes to bed and we begin letting him cry in 10 minute shifts (This bedtime is later than usual, mostly because he wasn't showing signs of fatigue like he usually does. He napped pretty well during the day, due to his 4 month shots, so I wasn't too concerned that he was up a little later.) In the past week or so he has not been falling asleep right away like he has in the past, which is part of my frustration of late. It seems like his sleeping patterns have deteriorated.

8:30pm - he FINALLY falls asleep.

Midnight - First waking. Since it had been more than 3 hours since he last ate, I fed him 3 ounces (he doesn't even finish - which tells me he's not really waking because he's hungry.) Henry falls back asleep at 12:30.

2:00am - Second waking - I allow crying in 10 minute shifts.

2:52am - Henry finally falls asleep, which is a shame really because if he had only made it to 3am, I would have fed him. Sorry baby.

Side momma note: The real misery is that because I am fighting this horrible cold I couldn't fall back asleep until 3:30am and then....

4:00am - Third waking. Bottle time, again he doesn't finish - in fact he only has an ounce. He falls asleep at 4:20am.

6:30am - This is the point where I officially can't take it anymore. I pull Henry into bed with me (controversial, I know) and we doze until after 9am. Blissful.

Dear gods of the sleeping babies, please show us improvement tonight. I'm growing fearful that one of these nights I might dissolve into a puddle of ooze right next to our Diaper Champ.

sleep log: day 122

I swear baby Henry is messing with me.

All week I've been all doom and gloom - thinking I had one of those babies that was determined not to sleep well until he was old enough to self-medicate. Last night I proceeded to have a mini-meltdown, I went to bed super early, was tearful and moaned to my dear husband that, "No, its never going to get better!" (I can honestly say sleep deprivation makes you certifiably insane. Poor Jim had no idea what to do with me.)

After all that drama, what does the dear boy do?
Sleep for EIGHT hours!
Wait, what? He did what?!
I'm still having a hard time believing what I just wrote.

I swear to you people, he went down at 8pm and was up at 4am. I thought I was going to walk into his room and find someone else's kid. My dear boy has NEVER slept that long before. Never ever. I literally almost burst with joy - okay maybe I just felt that way since it had been the longest I've ever gone without nursing him, but I swear my heart was elated.

The down side is that he was pretty much up for the day at 4am, but whatever, I'm hardly complaining. Eight hours! Eight hours! Eight hours!

Now I fully know that the simple act of telling you all about this momentous event means that it will not be repeated for many moons (I'm yet again breaking the golden rule of "Thou shall not speak of your child's sleep habits.") but I don't care. It was blissful and I couldn't keep it to myself.

The eff-it cake

Today was a rainy, gloomy day here on the eastern coast of Connecticut and since I found myself sleep deprived and in a rancid mood I decided Henry and I should NOT brave the elements. Instead, we had an "in-house day" and to brighten my spirits I decided I should bake. Surely a chocolate cake made of blissful devil's food iced with chocolate ganache would make up for the fact I haven't slept well in a very, very long time.

I'm supposed to be focused on dropping the baby weight and honestly I have been fairly diligent so a little regression in light of the current environment of sleep wakings isn't the worst thing in the world. What I'm trying to say is that I've justified that I deserve it, dammit. All day I've been calling it "the eff-it cake." Diets be damned, parenting is hard and I need a little sweetness.

Just the act of baking it made me feel better. Mixing and baking it up, making my house smell lovely. Its a good thing people.

The truly sick and perhaps ironic thing is that immediately after icing my eff-it cake it broke a huge crack in the middle of it from the stress of itself. Awesome. My cake is speaking to me.

Mumma amiss

Yes, I know, I know - I haven't posted in a while. Yah, yah, yah.

Truthfully, I've been frustrated.....on many fronts.

First, the silly Google Ads that are supposed to be highlighting text ads for readers to click on are only featuring Katrina PSAs. Truly, Katrina was a horrible, devastating event, but a natural disaster has nothing to do with my blog (or maybe Google is trying to tell me something.) Upon reading up in troubleshooting forums, one suggestion to encourage Google to switch them out was to add more content, topic-specific content. So perhaps if I repeat the words: mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, motherhood, mom, child, mom, baby, mom... that would work.

Yah, I didn't think so.
(UPDATE: oh-ho! Maybe it did work!)

The second frustration has been in the ever grim sleep department. Henry has shown zero improvement in sleeping overnight, in fact he's often worse than ever. Last night I found myself hissing to my unoccupied side of the bed as I paced next to it, "I hate the nights, I hate the nights, I hate the nights."

I'm trying desperately not to race into Henry's room to soothe him the instant he starts crying so as a result I feel like a crazy woman at night. The most I can do is let him cry for 5 minutes, but to be perfectly honest if I saw that was making any impact on him whatsoever I would be encouraged. Instead he will cry in 5 minute bursts, and after an hour and a half I'm physically and emotionally done and I pull him into bed with me....and of course he sleep soundly for hours that way. I think attachment parenting has backfired on me.

So this weekend I'm getting the Ferber book. He is the last of the "sleep experts" that I need to introduce myself to. I've hesitated for many reasons, but I'm approaching my wit's end. I'm not saying that because I'm perusing the book I'll apply the techniques (and quite honestly Henry is probably a bit young for his school of thought) but dear God when Henry won't sleep for more than 2 hours in row I'm a freaking basket case. I would take advice from a bum on the street.