I'm pretty sure I've used up all my wishes with my Diaper Genie since Zuul started solids.

Sleep Training Captain's Log: Chapter Two

Stardate -309798.22523465235

While the morning nap was a success, with only a minor stirring 38 minutes after Zuul went down (then fast asleep again for a whole hour), the afternoon nap attempt was a complete failure.

She didn't seem tired at 2, our regular p.m. nap time, so I nursed her at 2:30 p.m. and put Zuul in her crib, awake, at 2:45 p.m..  For a second, I thought I may have won, as she rolled over, but stayed laying down as I walked out the bedroom.  But, about 5 minutes later, the tears started.  So, after 3 minutes of crying, I went in, stayed two minutes and left.  There was no consoling her in those two minutes.

The tears continued off and on, but, after 5 minutes straight of bawling, I went in.  It stank as soon as I opened the door. 

I couldn't remember what the book said about diaper changes, but I couldn't imagine a full and stinky one could be very comfortable, so I changed her.  When I put her down again, she broke my heart into a million pieces.  She curled into a foetal position, her face and cry clearly had "Why are you doing this?  I don't understand." all over it. 

Fuck you, Ferber.  Fuck you.  What you ask is too much for a mother to bear.  It is completely unnatural to ask us to leave our babies in that state.  However, I did it.  I left her, confused and broken, at risk she'll hate me forever, growing up to become a shattered and insecure shell of a human being.

It's clear by now that she's onto me.  The crying continued, stubbornly, for 10 minutes, but there was fatigue in her cries.  I tiptoed quietly to her room, creeped open the door, and, sure enough, she was lying down, eyes closed, transitioning from crying to sobbing.  I don't say a peep, move a muscle, even breath.  She's going to fall asleep!

And that's when the dog decided to slam open the door, shoving me in the process and plop down into her bed.  The gig is up.  The noise made Zuul open her eyes, the sobs turned back into red faced howls and she pulled herself up to standing.

I picked her up and snuggled with her in the glider.  Mother consoling child and vice versa.

Onwards to a miserable evening and the true night time test at 8.

Sleep Training Captains Log, Chapter One

Stardate -309798.87576103513

Today is the day I cave and try Ferber's "controversial" (yet ever so popular) sleep training technique per his updated book "Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems".

Ferber is one person I decided had to be the meanest "expert" on earth.  Like many, and before Zuul was even a glimmer in my eye, my opinion didn't come from reading his literature, attending his seminars or talking to other parents that tried his technique; no.   It came from the one time I watched "Meet the Fockers".  I had made up my mind I would never, ever be so cruel to ferberize my child. 

Weary, and desperate for a date night, here I am. 

I have to admit, for all my earlier convictions, a small part of me is hoping the Ferber method fails so I can feel right about my early parenting decisions.  Of course, my desire to get at least 8 hours of sleep myself and for Zuul to start getting the proper amount of sleep she needs trumps the need to be right.  I'm not that petty.  Ok, maybe just a little petty.  Juste un petit peu.

We're starting with the 3-5-10 minute waits between cries today, and I've also got the double whammy of trying to get her to disassociate booby time with falling asleep.  Per grandpa's sage advice, but against Ferber's, I'm starting it at her first nap.  The hope, if you can call it that, is that, if she doesn't fall asleep during her naps, by bedtime she'll be so tired that she'll sleep through most of the night.  Sound's good.  WHAT COULD GO WRONG?!?!

It started as expected.  I went in for my first two-minute visit to her after 3 minutes of crying, and I listened to her cry herself hoarse.  "Please don't puke." is now my mantra.

I already heard grandma asking what's going on and grandpa upstairs saying "she's sleep training".  "Oh.", grandma says compassionately.

At least they've got my back.  I know others that are in similar endlessly temporary living situations have not been so lucky with their in-laws.

I just get back to the den from my second visit at the 5 minute mark and they both come down to visit me. While the heavy crying (Oh, mighty Thor, please don't let her puke.) is killing me, they are keeping me distracted by telling me their war stories.  I explain my plan to just go get her if she's still screaming at 10:16 a.m., which would mark the 10 minute wait and the 1/2 hour limit to trying to get her down for naps (another Ferber thing).  By 10:12 a.m., she has stopped  crying and is catching her breath.  By 10:25 a.m., silence.  I dare not go in to see if she's really sleeping or if she's managed an escape out the window.  For a 10 month old  who's not walking and just grasping standing while holding onto things, this would be an amazing accomplishment, so I'm going with sleeping.

Could I be so lucky?

Sunday Confessional

I completely ignored my cat yesterday for a good half hour, because I was so sure it was one of Zuul's toys that was meowing.

As bad as I feel for my mistake, all I can add to that is too bad cats don't have batteries that can be removed.

Subversive Cat in our younger, child-free days.  We were just able to know what each other was thinking without saying a word back then. 

But you said 'Cookie'!!!

THIS IS A VERY CONFUSED DOG:

Zuul's 9-10 month span has been filled with milestone after milestone. Babbling, self feeding, crawling, tantrums and now climbing.

Of course, I realized I may have a problem early on when I'd say "let's got for a walk" to Zuul and the dog would jump and run to the door.

Oops.

But now I'm constantly breaking my dog's heart.

"Come to mama.... I was talking to Zuul, Ghost. Go lay down."
"Climb up! Come on, you can do it! .... NO, DOG! GET OFF THE COUCH/BED/ME!"
And the most heartbreaking sentence of all;
"Would you like a cookie?"  It's like psychological torture worthy of a lambasting from all the animal rights activist groups.

I guess I could be more specific and not actually say cookie, but, "would you like a banana flavoured rice rusk, Zuul?" doesn't have the same simplistic ring. I'm also sure "cookie" is easier to learn and say for a border-line toddler than "rice rusk" or "wagon wheel shaped treat".

I could also treat my dog like the older sibling she is and start being fair and making sure to give their treats at the same time like one would in a multi-child household.  However, that's just one more item I need to remember along with bibs, sippy cups, wet wipes, toys, baby... Never mind the amount of times I've almost handed the baby cat food instead of cereal the morning after a sleepless night. I know it's just a matter of time before I mindlessly give my daughter a beefy bone shaped biscuit.

Of course, Zuul and I could just get used to a big white dog leading by example. That's a nice spin on things, isn't it?

Sure beats saddest dog in the pacific west coast.

Irony

Irony is running to move potted plant, filled with dangerous stones to choke on that crawling baby is aiming for, only to knee her in the head in the scramble to save her.

Sunday Confessional

As I hear Zuul come close to making real words in between all that baby babble, I started to become a bit concerned with watching my own language and also have been contemplating making a baby/child friendly playlist, weeding out songs with explicit lyrics.

I was discussing this with Subversive Dad as we pulled into our street after a drive yesterday, only to find Ghost in our bedroom window, up on our bed to get there, and pulled off the blinds in order to improve her view. That's when the tirade of filthy language poured out of me, Zuul in my arms, absorbing every four letter word.

Today I realize, who the fuck am I kidding.