The great bedroom experiment has officially been declared a failure.
Pebbles isn't (much to my chagrin) sleeping through the night as consistently as I'd like. It leads to bad sleeping habits, because I bolt in to "save the day" when she cries at night, to avoid waking Woodstock, who is Little Miss Cranky if she doesn't get 11 hours of sleep a night. (Well, so is her mother, but one of us has to be the grown up). It becomes a self-perpetuating cycle ... Pebbles now DEMANDS to be picked up and whisked away to be rocked before she'll stop hollering. She's smart. She knows I love to snuggle, but this middle of the night stuff is for the birds. She also knows snuggling wins out every single time over having a grumpy sister the next day.
Additionally, Pebbles tummy ceases to be happy 11 hours after she last eats ... so she wakes up about an hour before Woodstock. At that point, no amount of cajoling that it isn't morning until the sun comes up (what are we going to do when it rises at 5:45 a.m. in the summer?!) works and Woodstock is raring to go.
I knew it was near the end when Woodstock complained the other day, "Pebbles is too noisy."
Yes, she is. Because not only does she cry at night, Pebbles cannot wake up quietly. Oh no. She has to wake up with SCREECHING peals of laughter and loud thumping noises as she swings her legs up and lets them fall over and over (and over) again. She doesn't need to be "rescued" come morning, she is perfectly happy entertain herself - the problem is, she hasn't learned the concept of "inside voice."
This morning I asked Woodstock if she wanted Pebbles to still share a room or if she wanted her to sleep elsewhere for now. Her response was telling: "Pebbles can sweep in my room, but she's too noisy."
Let me put it this way: we've never had to use a monitor with Pebbles. We can hear her regardless of how far apart in the house we may be.
Pebbles may be banished to the guest bedroom - for now. She's adorable. I love her, but I cannot continue to endure months of waking up every single night.
The only problem is, it involves furniture rearranging and stairs and more time off than I have at the moment.
Maybe if we all don't get enough sleep no one will notice we're grumpy...?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
The Grumpies
(Sent as an e-mail to The Parentals - who don't read this blog - earlier today)
--
So this morning Pebbles, who has a bad cold, woke up at oh-dark-thirty (5:40 a.m.). She slept in her bouncy chair in our room last night, since she understandably wasn't comfortably sleeping lying flat. Not wanting Woodstock to wake up (everyone sleeps with their doors open to keep from freezing to death), I bounded silently down the hall only to be met by a sleepy Woodstock at her door (she is loving the fact that she doesn't have to yell "All Done Sleeping" or anything else for that matter from her bed in the morning - she merely pops out when she feels like getting up. In this case, 5:40 a.m.).
I tried the old "It's not morning yet" trick. Didn't work. She wanted to snuggle. So back we went into our bedroom. She climbed into bed next to Himself. It really wasn't morning or time to get up (according to my sleep-deprived self), so I got Pebbles, gave her something to suck on and all four of us "snuggled." Really, Himself pretended to sleep, Pebbles moaned. Woodstock told her over and over and over (and over!) to not be afraid. I counted to 100. Silently. Hoping some fairy would drop magic sleeping dust on at least the two littlest.
Alas, it was not to be. We all ended up getting up. Most of us having a case of the grumpies. (Himself not so much - he got to immediately escape to work, so he was likely spared).
Fast forward to breakfast. Woodstock, who had requested cinnamon oatmeal with blueberries sat staring at her (now cold) bowl of oatmeal - missing only a single bite. The entire time I was feeding Pebbles she snuggled up next to me and said over and over and over (and over!), "I hungry mama!". Which would be why I switched up the order and gave her breakfast first instead of last thing before we left (after all, it's a long time between 5:40 a.m. and 7:40 a.m. - our normal breakfast time - for a little tummy). Of course, even though she got exactly what she ordered for breakfast, Woodstock ate only her vitamins and one bite of oatmeal. She then lay her head down on her tray and dropped blobs of oatmeal over the edge of her tray onto the floor while exhibiting a very-tired-toddler case of the grumpies. Pebbles moaned her discomfort and relative displeasure from her swing. Over and over and over (and over) again.
I said, "Woodstock, you are going to be in big trouble if you don't find a way to get rid of the grumpies." One of those vauge parental threats that all the parenting books warn you to never use, but the parenting books have never functioned for weeks on end with little sleep and an actual grumpy toddler who is really just acting in exhaustion and not out-and-out wantonness. She continued to drop oatmeal onto the floor. I continued to eat my own oatmeal and ignore her. I was determined to not have to eat breakfast in the car, like I do most mornings. (Note: I did clean up the oatmeal after I was done ... I have to mop the floors tonight anyway).
We finally got ourselves out to the car, got the car unburied from the snow that found us last night, got everyone buckled in. Headed toward Miss Jan's, with me already counting the hours until bedtime - for all of us. And feeling a little bad that I was about to unleash two of the three grumpies on poor Miss Jan.
We were blocks from Miss Jan's house when Woodstock piped up from the back seat.
"Mama, I not in bery big trouble anymore."
Curious, I said, "Oh, really? Why not?"
"Cuz I not mad anymore. I not in bery big trouble now, cuz I so happy."
And right then, my heart melted.
I still have a case of the grumpies, but they're mellowing out. Woodstock and Pebbles seemed to leave their grumpies behind as well - as both were beaming big happy grins when Miss Jan opened the door.
She has no idea how close she came to having the grumpies come to visit today.
(Totally unrelated side note: Woodstock got out of the car at Miss Jan's, bounded over to the sidewalk, looked up at the tree and said, "Hey birdies! Whas going on?" like she does every morning - grumpy or not. It makes me laugh every single morning - grumpy or not.)
--
So this morning Pebbles, who has a bad cold, woke up at oh-dark-thirty (5:40 a.m.). She slept in her bouncy chair in our room last night, since she understandably wasn't comfortably sleeping lying flat. Not wanting Woodstock to wake up (everyone sleeps with their doors open to keep from freezing to death), I bounded silently down the hall only to be met by a sleepy Woodstock at her door (she is loving the fact that she doesn't have to yell "All Done Sleeping" or anything else for that matter from her bed in the morning - she merely pops out when she feels like getting up. In this case, 5:40 a.m.).
I tried the old "It's not morning yet" trick. Didn't work. She wanted to snuggle. So back we went into our bedroom. She climbed into bed next to Himself. It really wasn't morning or time to get up (according to my sleep-deprived self), so I got Pebbles, gave her something to suck on and all four of us "snuggled." Really, Himself pretended to sleep, Pebbles moaned. Woodstock told her over and over and over (and over!) to not be afraid. I counted to 100. Silently. Hoping some fairy would drop magic sleeping dust on at least the two littlest.
Alas, it was not to be. We all ended up getting up. Most of us having a case of the grumpies. (Himself not so much - he got to immediately escape to work, so he was likely spared).
Fast forward to breakfast. Woodstock, who had requested cinnamon oatmeal with blueberries sat staring at her (now cold) bowl of oatmeal - missing only a single bite. The entire time I was feeding Pebbles she snuggled up next to me and said over and over and over (and over!), "I hungry mama!". Which would be why I switched up the order and gave her breakfast first instead of last thing before we left (after all, it's a long time between 5:40 a.m. and 7:40 a.m. - our normal breakfast time - for a little tummy). Of course, even though she got exactly what she ordered for breakfast, Woodstock ate only her vitamins and one bite of oatmeal. She then lay her head down on her tray and dropped blobs of oatmeal over the edge of her tray onto the floor while exhibiting a very-tired-toddler case of the grumpies. Pebbles moaned her discomfort and relative displeasure from her swing. Over and over and over (and over) again.
I said, "Woodstock, you are going to be in big trouble if you don't find a way to get rid of the grumpies." One of those vauge parental threats that all the parenting books warn you to never use, but the parenting books have never functioned for weeks on end with little sleep and an actual grumpy toddler who is really just acting in exhaustion and not out-and-out wantonness. She continued to drop oatmeal onto the floor. I continued to eat my own oatmeal and ignore her. I was determined to not have to eat breakfast in the car, like I do most mornings. (Note: I did clean up the oatmeal after I was done ... I have to mop the floors tonight anyway).
We finally got ourselves out to the car, got the car unburied from the snow that found us last night, got everyone buckled in. Headed toward Miss Jan's, with me already counting the hours until bedtime - for all of us. And feeling a little bad that I was about to unleash two of the three grumpies on poor Miss Jan.
We were blocks from Miss Jan's house when Woodstock piped up from the back seat.
"Mama, I not in bery big trouble anymore."
Curious, I said, "Oh, really? Why not?"
"Cuz I not mad anymore. I not in bery big trouble now, cuz I so happy."
And right then, my heart melted.
I still have a case of the grumpies, but they're mellowing out. Woodstock and Pebbles seemed to leave their grumpies behind as well - as both were beaming big happy grins when Miss Jan opened the door.
She has no idea how close she came to having the grumpies come to visit today.
(Totally unrelated side note: Woodstock got out of the car at Miss Jan's, bounded over to the sidewalk, looked up at the tree and said, "Hey birdies! Whas going on?" like she does every morning - grumpy or not. It makes me laugh every single morning - grumpy or not.)
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