A quick rant while he’s asleep.
This must be quick, because “asleep” is becoming a rare state these days. My child, the champion sleeper, has abruptly decided that sleep is overrated. Needless to say, this is driving me NUTS.
(What’s that joke about the steering wheel on the crotch and the punch line is “driving me nuts”? Someone?)
It’s not that he’s getting up early, because although he did get up at the ass-crack of dawn this morning, usually he’s a late sleeper. It’s getting him to sleep. HE DOES NOT WANT TO GO TO SLEEP. And that makes me want him to go live somewhere else, like maybe at Grandma’s. Grandma would probably find his late-night shenanigans charming. She’d feed him cookies and the two of them could watch her DVD box set of the Dean Martin show until he passed out from boredom and embarrassment for poor old Deano.
(Every time I visit my parents my mom says, “I thought we’d watch Dean Martin tonight!” And I have to remind her for the 3,000th time that I don’t really deeply enjoy watching drunk people warble popular classics of the ‘50s and then trip over some props. Maybe a few minutes of it, okay, but we’re inevitably trapped watching one episode after another at my parents’ house with the volume cranked up to a window-rattling decibel, and at some point my mother will turn to me and ask, “What are you crying about?” and I’ll say “I didn’t know I was” and then I’ll go upstairs and try to drown myself in their bathtub only I added too many Epsom Salts and I keep bobbing to the surface.)
As I was saying, he does not want to sleep. At all. We put him down at 9 p.m., and for the next three hours, every five minutes is another request from his room. First he needs A Drink. Then he needs a Toy. Then he needs Something, but He Doesn’t Know What. Then he needs a Hug and a Song. Then a Better Song. Then he wants me to Stay and Chat. And on, and so forth.
I have tried various tactics, none of which have worked. They include but are not limited to: Calming Explaining That Sleep is Important. Ignoring. Yelling. Tears. Insisting that He Fall Asleep NOW Damn It. More Tears. Attempting to Ignore, but Failing. Yelling at Husband.
You see? Failproof! Nothing could be wrong with my strategies! I am going to write one of them child rearing books that show how to rear a child good because I know.
Last night, at 11:30, after an hour of vigorous denial over the goings-on near Henry’s room, I realized that all was quiet and went to check things out. I found Scott sleeping on the floor of Henry’s room while Henry, fully upright and alert, chatted with his father’s inert form. “Darth Vader goes whoosh and the Storm Trooper turns him into Darth Vader and when I’m at the playground I go whoosh down the slide but sometimes I fall and I get a little scrape but I’m okay,” he said as his father snored lightly against the carpeting.
This had better end soon because it's cutting into my precious blog-writing and -reading time.










September 22, 2005
Reader Comments (68)
Yes - the kid needs to SLEEP, so we can get our dose of Finslippy......
Good luck to you.
By the way, the image of you bobbing in the Epsom-heavy tub is truly hilarious.
So, with Henry, maybe his problem is that he's being told it's time to "sleep". What if he had lots of options? Colouring, playing with trains, acting out scenes with Darth Vader...all fine options as long as he's fairly quiet and does not come out of the room! He'd pass out eventually and you and hubby could get some quality time.
DIDJA SEE MY BOOK? DIDJA SEE MY TAPES? DIDJA SEE MY BOOKS ON TAPE?!
I heard that somewhere and it killed me.
bed time is bed time. i'm the sort of person that, when the child resorts to crying, tantrums, etc., unless there is bodily harm involved or the possibility* that choking on bodily fluids might occur, i just ignore it and say 'see you in the morning, shitface.'
*like if i hear vomiting
(/kidding)
The kid whispering into her monitor cracks me up. "There's something wrong with my butt!" Hee.
Seriously though, consistency is the key. After the tucking in and lights-out, mine are allowed five minutes of messing around time. We call this The Potty Parade because they all suddenly have to pee as soon as the light goes out. After that, they'd better be bleeding if they're out of bed. Bed time is bed time. Period.
And the pirate joke? How has my life been complete up until now without knowing that joke?? Hilarious!
Seriously, I am a control freak to end all control freaks, and the sitting in bed PLAYING and CHATTING thing used to drive me insane. Once I learned to say "As long as you STAY IN BED and I CAN'T HEAR YOU you can do whatever you like," a lovely zen descended upon me.
But if they DO get up (or get noisy), then the beatings commence. Or they just, you know, lose television or some other coveted privilege the next night. Each child had to break the rules just once, then upon the next-night-deprivation I could practically see the lightbulb blinking on, and they were good thereafter.
(Don't worry, they're demonic in all sorts of OTHER ways.)
Port in the sippy cup, perhaps?
it's almost bed time...better get my wrong path walking shoes on.
Good luck!