white noise machine lament

I want to pay tribute to a good friend who has travelled with me these past 8 years, who has come to my rescue when our power went out, and who has given me the sweet sound of rain ... even when it is raining.

Nearly 8 years ago, I charged into our local Radio Shack - morningside heighters, you know the one, and found you, sweet white noise machine.  You were small, took batteries, and could plug in to the wall.  You even offered an aroma function; sadly I never got to try this 'interesting' feature.  Together we hit Greenwich, CT, Rhode Island, Maine, Florida, New Hampshire, St. Martin, Philadelphia, Virginia, Death Valley, and more.  When the grown ups or big kids made noise, I thought of you.  When the roosters crowed, I smiled sweetly at you.

You worked hard over the years, and you, good friend, have reached your port in the storm - the rain storm (your favorite sound), that is, here in Nevis.  With beautiful views of the Atlantic Ocean, lush landscape, and green vervet monkeys, you have found your freedom.  Loewy and I chose rain last night, and she drifted off once again to the sweet sound of rain blocking Clara, Alistair and Daddy's sponge bob.  Yet in the middle of the night, you decided after all of these years why should I do what she tells me to do.  You said forget this rain command, bring on the train on the tracks noise.  I charged out of bed thinking I was on Amtrak rather than Nevis.  I reminded you gently - rain, please - and once again, you showed me your spirit and choose train on the tracks.

Well good for you.  I respect your new found freedom.  You have done your work and deserve your sweet reward.  Thank you for the good nights and the countless good naps.

Love, 

Brooke

a big sigh of relief

Last weekend, I had my first big 'phew' moment.  I took a big inhale, exhaled slowly, and felt the delicious bliss of relief.  

My oldest, Alistair, has been testing limits his entire life - weight limits at birth, sleep deprivation limits as a baby, and now appropriate school behavior limits as a 7, almost 8 year old.  It got a little bad a few weeks ago.  Keep in mind, I am a former teacher and I am very senstive to how my children behave and conduct themselves in the classroom.  He had rough day after rough day, ending with insulting the school librarian (he told her loudly that she should not file her nails in public) and telling the girls in his class that he was going to eridicate Justine Beiber.  I mean I get the Justin Beiber thing, but who insults a school librarian?  (ummm, maybe his mother, Claiborne M. if you are reading this, remember how we got busted for drawing pictures of Mrs. Johnson's perm?)

My boy was in a rut, and I was beginning to wonder if he would ever get out of it.  I also started to get nervous about the bigger picture.  Maybe he isn't a nice child, maybe something is wrong with him, can he demonstrate empathy without me prompting him to do so?  Ugh.  My thoughts, like his behavior, were in a tail spin.

In my work as a sleep coach, as well as in my personal life, I meet a lot of parents who are in the same downward trajectory, worrying that maybe their little non-sleeper has bigger problems, problems that are too overwhelming to even begin to explore.  As many of you know, when we are tired, we become irrational.  Our children too become irrational, and we begin to have irrational thoughts about our irrational children.  I speak with experience, when Clara was born, at her two week check up, I spent most of her appointment diagnosing her big brother's early on-set mental illness.  It was not a happy or rational time.

Needless to say, worried or not, the days move forward, and slowly but surely I thought maybe just maybe my sweet boy might still be sweet, somewhere inside.  This brings me to my big exhale.  

Last weekend, we journeyed 4 hours up and 4 hours back to attend my husband's grandmother's 90th birthday. It was a hard but joyful trip and worth the car sickness and hotel breakfest bar.  My worries about Alistair's behavior had quieted, but I was still sifting through them from time to time while driving kids to activites or as I fell asleep at night.  On Sunday, after a lovely family lunch filled with lots of treats, fun with the cousins, we started to say our goodbyes.  I was busy putting on Loewy's shoes when I looked up and saw Alistair kindly helping his great grandmother's feet back on to the wheel chair.  He then stood up, leaned in close, gave her a hug and a kiss, and told her that he loves her.  And here's the best part, and why I am breathing again.  He did it without one of us making him do it.  He did it because he loves her and knows how to show his love, respectfully.  I am grateful that I turned my head at that moment to catch the interchange, because I could have so easily missed it.  I didn't though, and that is a big relief.

It only took 30 minutes

Yesterday, my husband picked Alistair up early from school, had him at the dentist at 2, and by 2:45 Alistair was home on the couch - minus 4 teeth.  He spent the afternoon playing with his numbed lip, dripping motrin out of his mouth, and eating Dobbs Ferry's version of pinkberry.  Today he was off to school good as new.

This event has been more traumatic for me than for him.  Of course, I don't like the idea of Alistair suffering or being uncomfortable.  His quick recovery immediatly quelled this dimension of my worries, but I am having a hard time dealing with how just 30 minutes can erase months of suffering and worry that framed his first two years of life.

From 4 months until 24 months, Alistair was always somewhere in the process of getting teeth.  Sometimes it made him drool, sometimes it made him bite, and very often it made him not sleep.  His teething drove me crazy - I would give him motrin, tylenol, bizarre little pellets, teething gel, and I would often look longingly at the bottle of scotch at his great grandfather's house - but nothing ever really seemed to work.  Eventually the tooth would come out or sometimes it wouldn't and I would obsess over liver damage and put off giving him pain meds for days.  Simply put, I never knew if he was teething or just cranky, tired, or bored.  

I have heard pediatricians explain that there is no connection between teething and poor sleep; I have heard doulas and other sleep coaches say the same thing.  As for me, I am not sure how I feel now having lived through 6 years of teething in the past 7.5 years of being a parent.  I do think they are woven together in some capacity but one that is irrational and unpredicatable.  If I was a scientist, I would have thrown out my research long ago.  As a mother/expert, I would proclaim: "I am 100% positive that tooth will poke through tomorrow."  In reality, it was always another few weeks or even a month and then I would see Alistair, Clara or Loewy for that matter laughing on the swings and there it would be - a little dab of white in a gummy mouth.

I guess as a parent no matter what you are dealing with - teething, sleeping, eating, going back to work, staying home, a new baby, sibling - infants, babies, toddlers, children are irrational in many, many ways.  The only way to deal with this irrational factor to having children is to try to remember that they are human, making their own choices, consciously or unconsciously.  We can supply love, support, routines, but they will from time to time defy all that we can offer.  

So back to the 30 minutes....  what took Alistair's dentist 30 minutes took me 2 years to deal with and another 5+ years to process.  A lot of parenting is like this - you do so so so much work and they go off to nursery school, grade school, college, grad school and do things for themselves!  After you had to do it for them, with them over and over and over again.  It's both annoying and rewarding.

So Alistair is at school with a big bowl of his favorite mac and cheese to have for lunch and a promise of ice cream when he returns home this afternoon.  As for me, I think I will make a nice dinner, have a nice glass of wine, and toast teething and other delightful parenting challenges.

do it self

alistair doing my favorite 'do it self' activity, summer 2010

From about 14 months until the age of 3, my son, Alistair had an expression: do it self.  This need to 'do it self' is not an Alistair exclusive trait - trust me, he has a few that I would never wish on any of my readers.  It is a normal piece of neurological and social emotional development, and it is sometimes endearing and sometimes exasperating.  Watching a child zipper his own coat is sweet until you are in a sweat, bundled up, still waiting to get out the door before nursery school ends for the day.

Even now at 7, he wants to do things for himself - again sometimes nice, getting dressed, for example and sometimes downright annoying, his bathtub Poseidon role play/flood, is just one of the many in the annoying category.

This time of year, I find myself thinking about resolutions as well as hearing about other people's resolutions.  My daughter Clara came home today with her 'solution'; she meant resolution: to help set the table, yes please!  Alistair suggested watching more tv and eating more candy; he is trying to approach this resolution thing from a different angle.  That said, I have noticed that quite a few people, myself included, are choosing resolutions that they could 'do it self' but are getting a little help in the process.  I am trying to eat healthier, more fruits, whole grains, vegetables.  I know ... boring.  That said, I have purchased 3 days of a juice cleanse (not one of those scary lemon water and ginger ones), and am looking at new cookbooks for inspiration.  Kale salad?  Why not, it's actually really good.  It's come time for the sleep coach to get coached, and I have come to realize how much I like having someone to talk to in my pursuit of healthier living.

I guess, for me, this whole 'do it self' conundrum got going a month or so ago when I found lice on Alistair's head.  Yes I could have done it myself, with a lot of tears and money wasted, but instead I went right to an expert.  It was so reassuring to have the lice lady check our whole family, comb us out, and send us on our way with a program.  I give my clients 10 nights of sleep training; Dale, the lice lady, gave me 8 days of hair washing and combing.  

As we start this new year, let's consider what we can do for ourselves (not always by ourselves).

professional blessings

This holiday season I am very, very grateful for the sleepy families that have hired me, trusted me, and believed in me when they really, really thought it would never work.

I am also equally grateful for my stand in mommies for bedtime at my house - they run the gamut from Daddy, to a sweet lovely high school senior - we found her helping her mother at the lice lady (more on that in a forthcoming post), a local 8th grader, and knowing me I will be pulling in the postman to see if he can do bedtime so I can rush off to a consultation.

Thank you to the parking gods for providing great spaces near clients' homes and buildings, and thank you to our beloved subaru who seems content to run on fumes every now and then.

I am also grateful for two phenomena - something old and something new.  First, the age old classic, the referral. Many, many, many thanks to the clients, friends, family members who have suggested me, thought of me, and pushed my services on the tired masses.  Secondly, the new and very necessary, virtual referral.  Thank you to those of you who have supported me on message boards, community chat rooms, and on blogs.  I don't know how any of these work and still feel that this whole 'web' world is somewhat magical - nonetheless, thank you.

Thank you to my amazing, local, IT and cake goddess, Sara Schneider.  

To the amazing group of Gentle Sleep Coaches trained by Kim West who help me trouble shoot, fine tune, and get me going in the right direction, I am thankful for you all every day.  And of course, my thanks and gratitude to Kim West, my sleep mentor and supervisor.  You bring accountability and responsibility to this profession.

Finally, thank you endlessy to Graham for valuing my work, saving the day when it needs saving, and for asking me when you get to retire because you are so certain of my abilities.  And of course to sweet Alistair, Clara, and Loewy - your amazing sleep habits inspire me every day.