To: Sleep, or lack thereof...

I recently received a text from a dear friend of mine that simply read:

Did you ever let MJ “cry it out”?

Talk about a loaded question.  I found myself pouring out several response texts with different scenarios, suggestions, and theories.  I was in a panic to help her.  Each new mom hits some sort of “sleep-breaking-point”, and it’s important to pass through it with as much support as possible.  So, I furiously typed away on my teeny keyboard to give her all the help I possibly could.  When, really, all of my texts could have been translated into one simple sentence:

No, it just wasn’t our thing.

Of course, I would never give a new mom such an obscure and short answer, so we walked through her situation.  And, after talking about her baby and their recent vacation, she realized it wasn’t her thing, either.  At least not right now. 

So, why is sleeping such a taboo topic?  Why are there such distinct camps?  Why did my texts have to be so wordy and filled with sayings, such as, “Well, these people say this,” or “These people say you should never do this…”  C’mon!  Aren’t we all doing the best we can here?  Can’t we play on the same team?  Don’t judge me and I won’t judge you…or at least I won’t treat you like I’m judging you.  (Hehe - just kidding.)  Seriously, though, I really won’t judge you…. If your baby wakes up 100 times a night, and you let them cry it out OR run to them, what difference does it make to me? 

Oh gosh, don’t get me wrong here, this blog entry is NOT a stance on sleep training or crying-it-out, nor is it my platform to share my opinion on codependent behaviors or baby sleep cycles.  (I don’t think I even really have an opinion on those things…unless, of course, I’m in a group of women talking about those things then I’ll probably come up with something because I’ll want to contribute to the adult conversation.) 

If I’m honest, this is just a little encouragement to myself, a “look at the big picture” reminder, an entry into my motherhood diary, if you will.

So, Dear Mommy-Diary,

Last night my daughter woke up four times. 

That’s right.  Four times.  In the middle of the night. 

No, my daughter is not 20 DAYS old - she’s 20 MONTHS old. 

Yes, yes, I know.  She SHOULD be sleeping through the night, but last night she did not. 

Yes, 98% of the time, she sleeps for 12 (glorious) hours without waking up, but last night was a strong example of the other 2%.

Last night, she just didn’t feel like it.  Last night, she had a BAD night.  Last night, she just couldn’t get into her sleeping groove.  I don’t know what the deal was, but I do know that last night, every move and twist stirred her, woke her up, and caused her to SCREAM out from her crib.  And, it wasn’t just a typical “I’m a toddler – hear me roar” kind of scream.  It was one of those hybrid screams – a mix of crocodile tears and “MAMA!”

Each time, I woke up in a blur and bounded from my bed.  I rocked her, whispered a few sweet nothings, kissed her cheek about 253 times then placed her back in her crib.  Each time, she was back asleep within seconds.

Each time, I returned to my bed and thought, “Oh no, am I creating a Wake-Up-Four-Times-a-Night-Toddler-Monster?”  “Will she EVER sleep again without sporadically needing my hug?”  “Have I created one of those (Oh, God, don’t say it) Terrible Sleep Habits?”

The nighttime hours sure have a funny way of interacting with our logical brain cells, don’t they? 

So, in the light of day, that all translates as follows:

Last night, my child didn’t need twelve consecutive hours of sleep.  Last night, she needed security.  She needed to make sure someone heard her, someone was paying attention to her.  Last night, for WHATEVER reason, she needed four Mommy Hugs before venturing into her next sleep cycle.  And, you know what, I gave them to her.  I rocked and shushed her into a peaceful state and softly placed her back in her crib (while still awake - I did read that in a sleep book). 

And, you know what, I’m not going to worry about this becoming a HABIT (unless it happens over and over and over and over again, in which case, I will burn this page of my diary).  And, I’m not going to worry about the “sleep schedule” that is being ruined for the following day or thinking about how that will inevitably snowball for days to follow.  No, I’m just going to respond to her the best way I know how, not what some sleep method suggests.  Because the last time I checked, they didn’t know MY daughter when they wrote about said method.

Because, you see, my daughter, she loves her crib.  Seriously.  Homegirl can spend lots of time in there, happy as can be.  Please know I’m not bragging here, because, literally, I have NO IDEA how this came to be…it just sort of happened.  Some nights, she’ll wiggle around and talk to the air an hour before falling asleep.  After waking up from naps, or early in the morning, she’s usually in no hurry for me to come get her, either.  She’ll play, snag a few books she’s learned to reach, or talk with her baby doll. 

A post nap chat with her baby doll.

Reaching for her pile of books.

Successful reach.  Curious George, it is.

Just a little game of Peek-A-Boo...

Hmm, this doesn't look safe.

Yes, I know, I have a lot of "monitor" pictures of Molly.  Can someone say, "first born"? 

Her crib is USUALLY a place of comfort and security for her.  98% of the time, she loves being in there, she even giggles as I’m laying her down.  SO, I’ve decided, no matter what the books say, I’m going to respond to that 2%. 

Because I know one day, when she can’t sleep at night, crying for her Mama won’t be the solution.  One day, she may turn on a movie, read a book, sneak a call to a boy (God, help us), or play dress up in front of the mirror.  One day, my rocking and lullabies won’t soothe a sleepless night, so I respond.  I get her out of her crib and let her know “Mama’s here”. 

And, that’s it.  That’s my sleep training approach.  Do what feels right in that moment*. On that specific night.  For your specific baby.  And, if you start to panic about it, or second guess yourself, remember it won’t be like this forever. 

(May the force AND God be with you if you find yourself rocking your sixteen-year-old back to sleep at 2:00am or having to let your eighteen-year-old cry it out.) 

See, no way I could fit all of this into a text message.  :)

Sweet dreams.

From:  Paige

*This is a philosophy that should ONLY be applied to appropriate contexts.  I repeat, things will end badly if you prescribe this mantra to all areas of life.    

To: A Can of Paint and My Mother

There’s not much you can’t do with a can of paint.  Actually, that’s not true.  There ARE a lot of things you can’t do with a can of paint (cook, clean, bathe, joke, etc…), but in terms of house renovation, a can of paint sure goes a long way. 

I recently shared some photos of the new paint job in our kitchen.  I turned a shade of earthy green into a neutral gray (translation: brought my kitchen out of the late 90s/early 2000s into 2014).  However, the paint job left our kitchen table a little out of place.

See, it's like playing a game of "What Doesn't Belong?":

Since Daniel and I only have about two items of furniture in our home that are not family hand-me-downs, buying a new kitchen table seemed a bit daunting.  Especially since the size and shape of this table fit our home perfectly.  (Shout out to my cousin, Whitney, for this piece.)  

I had finished painting the walls, sent the pictures above to my mom with the simple message of, “Next project: kitchen table.” I wasn’t sure what that project would entail (buying new, buying used, painting, etc), but I flippantly threw it in the text.  Seconds later, I received this text from her:

“Looks awesome, sweetie!  Pick out the colors, and I’ll come over and paint your table and chairs!” 

God.  Bless.  Her.

Seriously.  The woman is an incredible babysitter/spiritual leader/health guru/deal finder extraordinaire/project manager/craft queen all rolled in to one.  Or, in other words, the perfect “mom-yin” to my “daughter-yang”. 

It’s not uncommon for me to mention that I am on the hunt for a new (--fill in the blank with anything--) and within a few hours, my email is flooded with links to perfect matches of said item, all on sale.  10 unread emails from TLHolt?  Don’t mind if I do.

Exhibit A:  I mentioned wanting a wreath for
the window pane in my kitchen.

There have been times where I’ve joked about Molly growing into the next size of something (let’s say shoes for this example), not giving it a second thought, and the next day I get a text:  “Found shoes on sale for Molly on Zulily, Amazon & Kid to Kid. GREAT deals!!! Between the ten pair I ordered, surely some will fit!”  Oh, yea, shoes for Molly.  Good call, Sweet T, good call. 

She was the one who, when I said, “I’m thinking about repainting the kitchen,” replied with, “I can come babysit next Tuesday or Wednesday, so you can get it done quickly.”  How about both?  ;)

Seriously.  The woman is talented, thoughtful, generous, and creative, and mixed with her insomniac tendencies, she can become unstoppable.  She’s one of those people who will mention what she’s been up to, and I find myself wondering if that’s been all in one day.  And, one thing (amongst the zillions I can think of) that her thrifty-self has taught me, is that a can of paint goes a long way, hence my opening sentence.  So, when I received her enthusiastic offer to paint my kitchen table, I replied with:

YES.  YES.  YES.  Oh my gosh, YES. 

And, so, she went to work, utilizing the Project Manager/Craft Queen compartments of her being.  Researching, painting, stenciling, painting, painting, and applying, applying, applying top-coat. 

When all was said and done, this was the final outcome:

See what a difference a can of paint makes?  Quite a lot.  But how much MORE difference does the two-toned table and stenciled chairs make?  Quite a lot TIMES ten, which describes my mom perfectly… She’s everything PLUS more. 

And, since Mother’s Day is around the corner, I thought it fitting to give credit where credit is due.  While a can of paint can make a large difference, a can of paint applied by my mom, who wanted to provide us with a transformed and trendy kitchen table at minimal cost, well, that my friends, is a LEGACY. 

So, Happy (Early) Mother’s Day, Sweet T.  I love you (and our AWESOME kitchen table). 

What should we paint next?

From: Paige