by any means necessary (a.k.a. navel gazing)

Why am I suddenly caught up in military metaphors?

Alternate title for this post: Don’t ask, don’t tell.

During our sleep struggles over the last two weeks, it came up in conversation that perhaps blogging and facebooking (yes it’s a verb now) about this wasn’t helping. We were receiving all sorts of advice, online and off, and some of it was helpful and some of it was making us crazy.

I learned a bit about myself, specifically that I’d like to be right, all the time. I’d like to think I’ve done the most research, and that I’m the most psychically tuned in to my child. I am terrified of making mistakes, much less being told I’m making them.

It’s not a terribly helpful way to be. I’ve had to really learn how to take constructive criticism, especially during my years as an actor. Not to mention my work as a writer. You should have seen me the first time an article I wrote for publication was edited. I freaked out.

So with the sleep, it’s basically comedy. People try to be helpful, suggesting things, I’m suddenly convinced I’m wrong and a terrible mom. Et voila! Mess.

Fortunately, a friend of mine who has known me a long time reminded me the other day that this was my problem. And I heard it. I heard her. I was like, Okay, I get it. I can’t be right all the time. I can make mistakes. For whatever reason, I’ve chosen to share my struggles with the world in this format. People are going to witness the mess I make.

I’ve never been a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of gal.

And then, because I’m blogging the sleep, I keep trying to wrap the story up like: Now we’ve figured it out, gotten it right, Ta Daaaaaaaaa!

And then it all goes kaflooey again.

Embarrassing.

And I can’t stop myself. So, the reporting continues:

Over the last few nights (see previous post) we’d adopted the By Any Means Necessary strategy of sleep.

The rocking and singing in the chair worked two nights in a row. The third night it didn’t work. That night we negotiated, struggled, took repeated trips to potty, fought, let him yell. I went in for the millionth time about two hours into the process and picked him up out of the crib and held him and rocked him for the third time that night and he finally was too exhausted to resist.

Cue misery.

It is a special kind of exhaustion and hopelessness that takes over after two hours of fighting with a tired boy about going to sleep.

The thing is, in thinking about Katie’s comment on a previous post, he does know how to be alone, play alone in his crib. He’s done it for 2 hours straight during “naps” when he didn’t want to sleep. He does it for half-an-hour in the morning sometimes. It’s just bedtime when he won’t let us leave. He doesn’t want to go to sleep. Period. If we leave the room, and he yells, that’s an activity other than sleep.

Last night, Scott took over. He wouldn’t let me go in. Once I’d finished the rocking and singing, my part was done. Scott went in at intervals to reassure Jonah, tell him to lay down again. Jonah yelled a lot (“MommyDaddy” over and over — which I much prefer to Mommy Mommy Mommeeeee) but he didn’t actually cry, which also helped my nerves.

At one point, he said “Something else? Puhleaaaaaaase?” — he’s a smart kid, that one.

And at 9 o’clock, almost on the dot, he gave up, laid down, and fell asleep. Like that (snap!).

Oh and for naps? I’ve completely given up on getting him to lay down and fall asleep at naptime (see discussion of two-hour self-entertainment, above). I basically run him around in the morning with one or several out-of-the-house activities and then around noon-ish I stick a bottle in his mouth and drive till he falls asleep, transfer him from car to crib, and get two hours nap. Except for the days when it doesn’t work.

For the record, over his 18-month life, we have officially tried co-sleeping in the bed, co-sleeping in the co-sleeper attached to the bed, separate-room sleeping, Ferberizing, Weissbluth/CIO/extinction, rocking to sleep, singing to sleep, shushing to sleep, patting to sleep, sitting next to the crib to sleep, earlier bedtime, later bedtime, even later bedtime, no bedtime routine, some routine, a more strict routine, discussing the entire routine as it goes along…

So there we are. I haven’t the faintest idea how tonight is going to go, but isn’t it interesting? Okay, maybe I’m the only one who is still fascinated (when I’m not tired or overwrought, yes, I do find the process fascinating, oh navel, my navel wherefore art thou lint?).

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There has been a marked shift in my fascination with sleep though. I noticed it in mom-toddler yoga class the other day. Two moms with kids younger than Jonah were comparing notes on how they get their girls to sleep. Both admitted to rocking in the Ergo, and co-sleeping. Both talked about how they ask everyone they meet about what they do at bedtimes; which books they were consulting; how they felt like they were breaking a rule — how everyone they knew had transitioned to cribs, wasn’t rocking anymore.

I remember that phase. I remember asking EVERYONE. I remember feeling like the only person doing whatever I was doing.

At least now, I’m not talking about it in person all the time. Just on the blog. Lucky you all!

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We went on a beautiful hike today on one of the trails in the Oakland hills. Lots of dogs, sticks, pinecones. And this one amazing tree stump: