Sleep Deprivation Revisited

People warn you that having a baby will change your world. And it's true. Within the first year, you find that you have adjusted to your baby in oh-so-many ways. The way you travel (or don't), the way you spend time with friends (again, or don't), they way you spend your days, the way you interact with your spouse, the way you shop, decorate, plan, and think. And let's not forget the way your clothes are always stained. However, not all these changes are bad or even unwanted. For instance, playing “Chase Peter” with Dave in the evenings is a huge improvement on watching Netflix (ok, so we still watch Netflix). And even the less-welcome adjustments are accomplished in a relatively short period of time; e.g. by the time baby #2 comes along, I'll already be pretty used to the fact that it takes twice as long to get out the door to go anywhere, that making it through a three-hour church block becomes akin to winning a “Survivor” challenge -just to give a couple of examples.

So why the urgent warning? What's the one adjustment that you just never really adjust to? I'm sure you've guessed it. Sleep deprivation. I'm not talking about the kind of sleep deprivation I experienced in college --you know the hardly-sleep-during-finals-but-then-go-home-on-vacation-and-crash kind. I'm talking about sleep deprivation of the chronic variety. I'm convinced that this type of sleep deprivation takes a toll on memory-making ability because most of last winter is a blur to me. To illustrate, at a friend's Christmas party this weekend I asked Dave, “What did we do with Peter at this party last year? Was he upstairs in his pac-n-play?” A moment later I realized just how absurd that was. Pac-n-play? Last winter Peter didn't even know what a crib was! He was actually in our arms fussing most of the time, but I'd somehow managed to forget that part.

So, memory disclaimer given, I remember things getting quite a bit better when Peter started sleeping in his crib around four months old. There were still the 1-2 nightly feedings though, and weaning him off of those (don't ask me when) was rough. But then...sleep. Marvelous sleep. I'm talking sleeping through the night without interruption more than half of the time. But then, what it is that all the baby books tell you? Just when you think you've got it figured out, everything changes -or something like that? Sometime after Peter learned to walk, we've been treated to regular nightly wake-ups. Again. A couple of times we've forgotten to turn on his space heater and he's woken up with cold little hands and ears, but, usually, we have no idea what his problem is. Is it over-tiredness? Night terrors? Anger at not knowing how to go back to sleep or just wanting to get out and play? Hunger? Inconsistent parenting? -i.e. Sometimes taking Peter out of his crib when he is inconsolable and other times (like last night) turning off the monitor and shutting the door because the exhaustion simply overpowered the guilt? The world may never know.

Now let's add to the mix...wait for it...insomnia. Why already-sleep-deprived people should suffer with insomnia makes zero sense to me. Tossing and turning and thinking, “I should be asleep right now. Now's my chance to sleep. I'll be grumpy if I don't sleep. I should be asleep...” all night long as your mind completely refuses to “turn off.” Again, zero sense. Often insomnia strikes me after a wake-up with Peter, leading my sister-in-law to conclude, “I think your insomnia problem might just be Peter.” Maybe. I hope so. That's got to be at least part of the equation.

I've documented some possible symptoms of sleep deprivation for your amusement.

Possible signs of sleep deprivation:

-A sudden lack of charity towards your spouse: “Fine, I'll get up with him, but you'd better not even think about going back to sleep!”

-Irrational anger: “How could you do this to me?! It's 5:00 and you said you'd be home early!”

-Distorted sense of time: “How can it be 4:05? I swear I looked at the clock half-an-hour ago and it was 4:00?” Or, alternatively, “Wait...two hours have passed since I sat down to mindlessly watch Baby Einstein?!”

-Lethargy: “Looks like Ollie's tearing up a cardboard roll under the table again...I should probably go stop him...but that would involve standing up...”

-Decrease in mental executive functioning: “Now what was it that I was hoping to accomplish today...oh look, a Facebook link to a funny clip..."

The Stuff of Parenthood: On Baby-proofing and Beyond -or Not

So we finally put up the stair gate. It took Dave a couple hours of chopping (with a hand saw) and some creative reconstructive surgery (not to mention purchasing a dremel) but it's up.





And now downstairs is pretty safe --as long as we keep the bathroom and pantry doors shut (storing Ollie's food in the pantry was our solution to that particular dog/baby dilemma) and so long as Peter doesn't figure out how to open the kitchen cabinets... Okay. So we've barely begun.

This morning I decided to let Peter play upstairs with me while I blow-dryed my hair (instead of letting it dry into the wild formations that it normally does). Peter was interested in two things: Ollie's kennel and the bathtub. The kennel wasn't such a big deal -although we will someday have to teach Peter that it is not in fact his own personal cave- but the tub was.


You see that little step that Peter would delightedly stand on, and then, not knowing how to climb off, would try to sit back on? You see my attempt to cushion the tile? You see my further attempt to block off the area entirely using our loveseat? (Who has a loveseat in their bedroom? I know.) Well, it worked. Except that then Peter discovered my nightstand and in the whole of two seconds (while I was trying to coax a terrified Ollie out from behind the loveseat - see my post on One Good Way to Traumatize Your Dog) he had managed to slice his fingers on it (you know that thing babies do where they put one hand inside the drawer and then slam it shut with the other?) yeah...


So, it starts feeling like a losing battle. But then, maybe that actually describes a lot of what goes down in parenting. And maybe all parents experience that ever-present voice in the back back of their minds saying, "your baby will self-destruct in five, four, three, two..." Then again, it could just be me.

One Good Way to Traumatize Your Dog. Oops.

We have officially given Ollie a phobic disorder. How did we do it? Starvation? Abandonment? Neglect? No. We did it goofing around with my exercise ball.





Looks innocent enough, right? But now imagine being Ollie's size (< 20 lbs) with this thing chasing you down the stairs at full speed. He must have felt like Indiana Jones in that famous rolling-ball scene. Now just the sight of this thing sends him into paroxysms of fear. I pulled it out to distract Peter while blow-drying my hair this morning (see my post Baby-proofing and Beyond -or Not) and Ollie ran for his life. I found him cowering in the tiny space between the toilet and the wall, trembling visibly. And I wouldn't describe Ollie as a particularly fearful dog. Heck, he used to jump up and try to bite "red ball" (which really was a funny sight - Ollie trying to open his mouth wide enough to get a grip on the thing) back in the day when we used it all the time (no, not for exercise, not for tormenting puppies, but for endlessly bouncing a colicky Peter -much to the detriment of our backs). So we've really done a number on Ollie this time. The only upside is that he won't go near the guest room when we store the exercise ball in there. And the only question remaining is how many long years of psychological therapy will it take to undo the damage? That, and, if this experience is any sort of indicator, who now thinks we are mature enough to be parents? Anyone? Anyone?...

Preschool Moment - "Button, Button"

This week was all about toys, teddy bears and buttons since the book was "Corduroy" by Don Freeman. So yesterday, we played "button, button, who's got the button" with our preschoolers to work on asking questions to peers, increasing sentence length, and answering yes/no questions. (I actually have this memory of being like 4- or 5-years-old and playing "button, button" for a family home evening activity and thinking it was the like best thing ever.) It's funny watching our preschool kids try to figure out simple games like this one -many of them are still confused about who should be closing their eyes when, not peeking, and this whole concept of "keeping it a secret." It was fun to watch as some of the kids caught on to the idea of tricking the other child by making it look like they were holding the button, but, for most of our kiddos, deception is still a pretty foreign thing (also, it was usually painfully obvious to the teachers who had the button, but the kids generally missed these "subtle" clues). Some of the kids could hardly handle the suspense of having the button, and would throw it out of their hands before the other child even had a chance to ask them, which was pretty hilarious. It was also something to play this game with several kiddos who struggle to correctly answer yes/no questions, since the crux of the game is being able to answer a simple yes/no question ("Do you have the button?"). So here's the preschool moment: A darling little blonde waif of a girl who had not yet figured out yes/no questions (her language skills were very delayed)  -but who wanted to participate, had a lot to say, and was very emphatic about it, holding out her empty hands and with a big smile on her face, nodding her head and saying, "yes! button!"