Perfect Storm

A few observations about my mother: First, she is a drama queen who is happiest in times of crisis. Second, she oversteps boundaries, especially those of her children. Finally, she is a score-keeper. I offer a few illustrations of each of these.


The Drama Queen
Example One: In the months preceding my wedding, my parents separated. Every day, my mother would call me with the latest round of complaints about my father. She found a way to make sure that everyone from the caterers to the wedding guests knew about the separation and how she was doing her best "to put on a happy face in this difficult time." For instance, when I sent my photo to the paper and asked that my photograph be labeled "Ms. B" instead of "Mrs. JM" (I did not change names), she called the editor and told her that I was absolutely changing my name and was just reacting to my parents' very sad separation. *
Example Two: When anything happens to one of her children---from fender benders to surgery--she immediately calls her prayer groups and prayer lists and whips everyone into a frenzy. When I was about to have nerve damage caused by E's vacuum birth surgically corrected**, she put that on the prayer list. Some things--and I include my hoo-hoo as one of them--just don't need to be the subject of strangers' prayers.

Boundaries, Schmoundaries
Example One: When J and I were fairly newly married, my mother brought her handyman to our house. He was supposed to fix the bathroom floor which was sagging. She decided she may as well have him paint the bathroom while he was there without so much as a "Hey, how would you feel about having your bathroom painted Smurf blue?" We were not amused.
Example Two: When I was in the hospital after having E, my mother resdistributed the furniture in my house, rearranged my kitchen and reorganized J and my drawers. I had a hormone induced meltdown upon discovering this.

Keeping Score
Example One: At Christmas, she spends precisely the same amount of money on each child and grandchild. Sometimes, we'll get an odd check for the $7.63 , but more often she makes a stocking and fills it with hideous items from the dollar store to make up the difference in what she has spent.
Example Two: She keeps a list of what each child has done for her lately: My brother M mowed her lawn when we were in town. However, Brother S cleaned her pool for her the week before. Therefore, it was my responsibility to do all the dishes during our visit on Sunday.


So there you have it, my mother is an attention-seeking-knows-no-boundaries-scorekeeping-drama queen.*** Who has just been diagnosed with colon cancer. It is the perfect storm. Stay tuned.

*They reunited shortly after my wedding. I did not change my name.
**I had a vestibulectomy-very painful, but effective.
***I know this sounds harsh. I do love her, but she makes me a little nuts.

Time to start a conversation

It doesn't seem right to complain about your marriage the same week a friend has lost her husband. It feels a little like when I complained about pregnancy after experiencing infertility--shouldn't I just be grateful already?

J and I have been together 17 years this summer, and we celebrated our 14th anniversary in February (by celebrate, I mean that we traded greeting cards). We've had rough patches here and there and there have been times that I've wanted to run away, but things have always gotten better. Things aren't bad now. They just aren't great.

So what's wrong?

When we were first together, we had to be in physical contact with one another. Sitting next to one another. Holding hands. Touching in some way. It was probably sickening. Last summer I bought a king size bed so there would be less physical contact. It isn't as if I expect to sustain the passion that we had earlier in our relationship, but I'm not sure the embers are even warm anymore.

Speaking of which. What about sex? What about that? We had a decent, if predictable, sex life right up until we were in the midst of trying to conceive. That pretty much killed it. Now, two children later, I am actually annoyed when J tries to start things. Once I saw a show on the animal channel in which the female large ferocious mammal almost took off the head of the male large ferocious mammal when he attempted to mount her. She looked pissed and annoyed. Like me! He looked bewildered. Like J. I cackled in delight. Take that, Mr. Horny! I totally get that the whole lack of sex thing is all my fault (though I do think that breastfeeding and being dog tired contribute to my decided lack of enthusiasm), but I don't care enough to do something about it. How sad is that?

Then there is the communication. Or lack thereof. We don't talk anymore. At least we don't talk to each other. We tend to talk at each other and then get pissed when we are ignored. For instance, J asked last night if a friend of mine is pregnant. Weeks ago, I had gone into great detail about how she was pregnant. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was giving me the "great, honey" treatment:

Me: Friend A is pregnant! I was right! I suspected this for at least a month. Isn't it great. Our kids will be close enough in age to play.

J: That's great, honey. [while watching The Simpsons]

I'm sure I give him the "great, honey" treatment, too.

J: Wow. The Braves, blah, blah, blah. Home run. Blah, blah. Pitchers. Blah, blah. Yankees. Blah.

Me: That's great, honey. [while reading blogs]

There is more. Bad attitudes. Annoying habits. Some disagreements over the best way to discipline a certain headstrong two-year-old. But nothing is toxic about our marriage.

I'm at a loss as to where to start to make things better. I think it would help to have a date night once in a while, but that is very expensive and we are already spending what we earn plus some. I think that as the children get older and less demanding that we may have more time and energy, too. In the meantime, maybe it is time to start a conversation about this. I love J too much to let things stay like this.

A terrible method for puting things in perspective

Last week's underwhelming Mother's Day, E's terrible twodom, M's refusal to eat anything that hasn't been pureed just so, the roof that is a structural disaster--all of these are just ant hills. I wish it didn't take tragic news to remind me of this.

Last week, I made plans to take the kids to the aquarium with B, a French adjunct with whom I am friendly. It is impossible not to be friendly with B; she is seriously peppy. It would probably be annoying, but the French accent makes it rather endearing. "Bonjour! Bonjour!" she greets me each morning as I huff and puff up the steep stairs to my office. B and I were pregnant at the same time, and we both had girls. We aren't close, but we do get together for coffee and our girls attend one another's parties and are slated to be classmates in the fall.

When I last spoke to her last Thursday, B was as happy as ever. She was looking forward to her husband's return from an extended business trip and was hoping to fill the time with beach trips and play dates. Her husband, E, is Filipino. I can't remember the story of how they wound up in the U.S., but I'm sure they told me. Their daughter looks exactly like him. In fact, when I visited after the birth, she proudly held up her little bundle of joy and told me, "I made an Asian baby!" Did I mention she is peppy?

Last Friday, I tried to call B to get her cell phone number because I was concerned that the baby's nap would make us late to our Saturday aquarium date. Her cousin answered the phone. I remembered B telling me that her cousin's English was "very bad, very bad" and considering that my French is worse, all I could get out of her cousin was that B was out and would not be home until Saturday. Given our difficulties speaking, I assumed that she misspoke. I called back Saturday morning an hour before we were to meet at the aquarium. Once again, the cousin told me to call later. It was odd, but I thought that perhaps B had made a quick trip to see her husband and had car trouble.

Later that afternoon I received an email from another friend, "I just received word that B's husband, E, was killed in an automobile accident yesterday."

I had a physical reaction to the news: my stomach clenched and my heart pounded wildly. Pure shock. It was just unreal. It is still unreal. And so very unfair. She is in the U.S. alone, save for a cousin who happened to be visiting. She will raise a daughter alone. She didn't get to say goodbye.

I've not seen her or spoken to her. No one I know has seen her yet. We are all giving her space until she is ready for visitors. However, she has been sending emails. Late at night. They are full of rage and pain. She sounds furious with the driver of the car* (he "is intact and E is dead.") She speaks of being full of regret for not having joined him on this business trip as if she could have stopped this from happening. She speaks of their recent decision to have another child. She sounds so grim. So raw. I have to have a box of tissue handy when opening them.

Sometimes when I hear of someone who is losing or has lost a spouse to a lengthy illness, I think that it might be easier to lose your loved one suddenly. But I'm not sure. Maybe a long, slow goodbye is better. There is closure. Time to plan. I don't know.

This weekend, B will bury her husband in the Northeast where they lived before coming here. When she returns, I hope she will feel up to receiving visitors. However, I think it is going to be a long while before I hear a joyful "Bonjour! Bonjour!" again.


*I googled a newspaper account of the accident. The driver lost control of the car and the car went down an embankment, hit a tree on the passenger side, spun around and hit another tree on the driver side. In an email, B said they had been attending a "function" so I would not be surprised to learn that alcohol was involved.

Blocked

I have so much to write about and yet I have nothing to write about. The material is there, but the words aren't coming. Maybe this is writer's block?

I could write:

about the untimely and tragic death of a friend's husband.

about M turning nine months.

about my frustrations with E.

about not wanting to visit my parents this weekend.

about feeling vaguely dissatisfied with my marriage.

about the ongoing struggle to lose weight.

about being happy that my television programs are all ending this week.

about the structural repairs our home requires.

about trying to embrace my research.

about being nearly ready to day wean.

about the Ann Taylor spree I intend to have when I lose five more pounds.


Clearly I have plenty of material. Perhaps the thing to do is to choose one thing from my list and write about it each day. Yes, that is what I'll do.

Tomorrow I will write about the death of my friend's husband. It isn't an uplifting story, of course, but it has me thinking about what I would do if the unthinkable were to happen.

Mother's Day Number Three

It is probably a good thing that in my cynical heart I am convinced that Mother's Day, Father's Day, Grandparents Day and other such holidays* are simply marketing vehicles for greeting card companies, florists and other commercial interests. Otherwise today might have gone down as a disappointment. Actually, it does go down as a disappointment, but it might have been worse had my expectations been high.

Here is a summary of the day for your reading pleasure.

6 Wake despite having declared --just the evening before-- that I would be sleeping in and only wanted to be interrupted long enough to nurse M. Remind self that I DESERVE to sleep in. Roll over.

6:15 Wake again wondering which child is going to wake first. Remind self that I am sleeping in. Roll Over.

6:20 E is moaning at her door. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy." J rolls out of bed and I remind him that it is Mother's Day and I am sleeping in. He goes to deal with E.

6:25 I hear J pleading with E to move away from the door so he can open it. She refuses and blocks the door with her body continuing to moan, "Mommy. I want my mommy."

6:27 Can't take it anymore. Decide to deal with E who is now sobbing, "My mommy. My Mommy." I ask her to move away form the door and the sobs stop. She steps away from the door. Decide to return to bed and continue sleeping in.

6:28 J asks if I'll "Just take E to use the potty" before I resume my sleep-in. E refuses to go unless I pick her up. She has wet her pull-ups overnight and they have leaked onto her pajamas and now onto me.

6:29 Change E, change me, decide to continue my lazy morning in bed.

7:00 Wake. Why isn't M up yet? She is sleeping great. Maybe something is wrong with her?
Don't be silly. She is sleeping more soundly now that these tubes are in . Most babies sleep 12 hours. Roll over.

7:25 Wake. Maybe E put another toy in M's crib last night and she has choked to death on a little part. Stop. Being. Neurotic. Sleep.

7:45 Wake. She has been sleeping almost 13 hours. Is that OK? Should try to continue sleeping in.

8:00 Phew. I hear her. Go get her. Nurse.

8:15 Well I'm up now. May as well stay up.

8:15-
9 Clean kitchen. Play with kids. Note that E is running a fever of 101.1.

9:00 Open Mother's Day card and unwrapped CD of a band I've never heard of.

10-12 J goes for a 12 mile run. On Mother's Day. Watch Maisy Mouse and Disney Playhouse over and over. Feel brain turning to jello. Put M down for morning nap. She sleeps for two hours. Is that OK?

12 E requests a quesadilla for lunch. I make it and she eats one tiny bite. Fever up to 102.6.

12:30 Attempt to feed M cottage cheese. She gags on the curds. What is wrong with her? Who gags on cottage cheese? She grabs the spoon and is soon wearing cottage cheese and sweet potatoes.**

12:30 Put E down for a nap. Decide to take my very own Mother's Day nap. Slide into bed and close eyes. Bliss!

12:31 Attempt to ignore the screams of "Mommy. My mommy" coming from the next room.

12:45 Kind of hard to take a nap with the wailing and gnashing of teeth next door.

1:15 Give up. Abort nap.

1:45 Allow E out of her room.

2:00 Put M down for a nap.

2-3 Put "Potty Time Elmo" in the DVD player. Worst Elmo video ever, yet E wants to watch it and a little reinforcement can't hurt. Or maybe it can. As E sits in my lap, I feel something wet and warm spreading down the front of my pants. "I accident on you," E says earnestly.

3:15 Play Memory with E. Repeatedly rescue M who has crawled under the coffee table and is enraged that she is bumping her head when she tries to sit up.

5:00 Take E, who is now running a fever of over 102, to Food Lion just to get her out of the house. She insists on wearing her sunglasses into the store. She rides in the back of the cart slightly dazed and wearing shades. It occurs to me that other adults may think I have a stoned kid on my hands.

5:30-7 Feed and bathe M. Bathe E. Put girls to bed. Collapse.

7-10 Eat dinner (refried beans), sort through bills, surf net.

10 Start blog entry and pump.


See. It wasn't an awful day, but it wasn't my "ideal" Mother's Day either. I'm sure next year will be better. Maybe I'll get to sleep in.

*Please somebody tell me there is no In-Laws Day.


**I don't really think these compliment one another, but she'll eat almost anything.

Why is it. . .

that my very short bad haircut can't grow out fast enough, but the hairs on my chin are working on some kind of growth record? Why?

Major developments

That E figures out the potty training thing.
Hoorah! How quickly things change. She has finally put it together and learned to pee in the potty. I can't wait until she is diaper free. I'm fearful of public restrooms, but how bad can it be compared to changing big girl poopy diapers?

Let's Review, Shall We?

In December, I wrote my list of wishes for the next year. I hesitate to call them resolutions because I find resolutions too depressing. So how am I doing? Let's review:


That I find the will to finish the text.
Ummm, no. I did, however, find the will to admit that the situation was untenable.


That the publisher is nicer.
Right.


That my daughters are healthy.
Let's see. If we exclude ear infections, the girls are doing well. If we include ear infections, then this isn't going particularly well. E, who had tubes placed last summer, had a very bad ear infection in February. Other than that, she has just had a few colds. Poor little M, on the other hand, has hopped on the ear infection band wagon. She has been on four rounds of antibiotics since February 21 and her hearing tests came back abnormal because of the fluid. She will get tubes on May 2. I haven't talked about this yet (probably because I am in denial), but she has not hit some verbal milestones (our pediatrician calls it a mild delay at this point) so I am hoping that once the fluid is clear, she will be able to hear and to catch up.

That daycare is more traumatic for me than for Baby M.
This one has turned out pretty well. I'm a control freak and it has been hard to come to terms that my instructions may or may not be followed (I must say this part was easier when we had a nanny). I am all for schedules, so I'm also not pleased that some days she naps and some days she does not. On the bright side, she seems happy when I pick her up and I am glad that she doesn't seem bored.

That E figures out the potty training thing.
Oh. God. No. Not yet.

That J and I have time to reconnect.
Ha ha. Part of the problem here may be that by "reconnect" we mean different things. When I think of reconnecting, I think of having meaningful conversations about non-child subjects and maybe a little cuddling (preferably in the form of a massage). When J thinks of reconnecting, he thinks of sex. I don't know if it is the breast feeding, the fatigue that comes with raising a toddler and a baby, or if I am just deflicted, but the last thing I want--and I mean the last thing-- is sex. I don't want to be touched. In fact, I get annoyed and even angry when he attempts to initiate.

That I can breastfeed M until she is one or until I feel good about stopping.
Except for the recent biting, this is working. Pumping for daycare is hard work for me, but each week I somehow have enough. I plan to start introducing whole milk (cut in with breast milk) in a sippy around 11 months so that she can be day weaned by her first birthday.

That I lose the baby weight.
Um. No. I lost several pounds when I had pneumonia, but I think I have gained them back. I am getting back on the exercise wagon because swimsuit season is upon us.

Peace on Earth.
Sigh.

That I become better organized.
Yes! I have been slowly, but surely improving. I'm still pretty pathetic, but my paperwork is under better control, the finances are under control, and I'm starting to declutter the nooks and crannies of the house. Being more organized has given me a huge boost. I have a long way to go, but it feels nice to feel more in control.

That I keep writing in this space for therapy.
Yes!

That fewer hairs show up on my chin.
Sadly, no. While it probably isn't noticeable to anyone but me, I seem to be sprouting more chin hairs. I don't want to be one of those older women (my grandmother was one and my mother-in-law is on her way) who are oblivious to the inch long gray hairs making little curly cues off their chins. I may be a sucker, but I just ordered this.

That I give more to worthwhile causes and charities.
Except to make a few trips to Goodwill and to donate a dollar now and again to March of Dimes I've not done much. Wait! I did give to Walk for Autism because my neighbor is walking in it (her son is autistic) and I did make a donation to the local rape crisis agency. Still, I should do more.


So that's my first quarter report. How is your year going?

Maimed

She bit me. My teething girl bit me on the boob. She has taken a few minor chomps before, but this was different. There was blood. And shrieking. I'm maimed.

God help me, but I do not want to resort to my father-in-law's unsolicited suggestion, but something must be done. I startled her and made her cry, which was only fair considering she MADE ME BLEED, so maybe that will be enough of a message. I'm going to be very wary the next few times she nurses.

I need to go look into first aid options. Owieeeeeeeeee!

Picking up the pieces

It has been nearly three weeks since the termination of my text contract. Overall, I feel relieved. But I would be lying if I didn't admit to feeling let down, too. Finishing major projects is analogous in some ways to giving birth.* Take my dissertation: the process was full of anxiety, and hurt like hell, but in the end I had the cutest little doctorate in the whole world. With the text fiasco there was no epidural, the baby got stuck, and there was a bitch of a nurse telling me what a shitty job I was doing-- for two and a half years.** It would have been wonderful to have walked away with a little bundle of (text and royalty) joy, but that wasn't to be. And it is a bitter pill. The aftertaste will be with me a long time.

It is probably just as well that my girls have taken turns getting sick over the last few weeks--ear infections and mystery fevers-- because I needed a little space and time to think.

It has taken me a few weeks to decompress, but I've turned my attention to two projects. In one, I am examining social network data I collected two years ago as part of a team studying sexual victimization. I am comparing the social networks of college women who report having been sexually assaulted to the social networks of college women who do not report having been sexually assaulted. I want to know if there are significant differences in network structure, such as the intensity of their ties to others and memberships in primary and secondary groups, that may heighten or mitigate risk of assault. In the other project, I am examining patterns of cosponsorship and co-voting in a legislative body to test the effects of race, gender, and other attributes on legislative effectiveness.

For the most part, I am excited to be working on both of these. Thus far, I have been reviewing the literature to bring myself up to speed on recent developments. This has been good for my ego because I'm finding that my previous work has been cited, particularly with the legislative work. I've also found that there have been some methodological advances and I look forward to being able to run my models with some newly validated measures.***

I'm going to work as fast as I can on both projects with the goal of having at least one paper out for review by the fall and others in the pipeline. I'm looking forward to new beginnings and easy deliveries.

*I apologize for using birth analogies, but it's all I've got right now.

**In fits and starts, of course. I had two babies in this time, went up for tenure, renovated a house, had surgery, and held a full time teaching job.

***Measures are always an issue with reviewers. Having published, validated measures to use and cite will make the review process a bit smoother for me.

I love this photo

I'm Free!

They opted to terminate the relationship. I am so happy. So relieved.

There will be professional ramifications to be sure, but I'm not thinking about those today. Right now, I just want to enjoy the moment.

Waiting

No word yet from the publisher. I guess it is taking her a while to formulate a response. The anticipation is not fun, but it isn't horrible either. I have plenty to do.

I feel recovered enough from the pneumonia to try and give this house a decent cleaning. Also, our dryer broke so I need to decide whether to repair it or replace it. If I replace it, I will upgrade both the 25 year old washer and seven year old dryer to high efficiency units. Repairing would absolutely be less expensive, but this is the fourth repair for the dryer. At this point, I feel like I might be throwing good money after bad. For a relatively young appliance it has been terrible. Then again, repairing it is more environmentally friendly so I don't know what I'll do. I also need to file our taxes. I did these before getting sick, but I want to review before filing. We are getting a nice refund this year (thanks to M) so I shouldn't sit on it much longer.

I also want to do something productive on the professional front so I am going to start planning my fall courses. Oddly enough, I'm looking forward to this. I will be teaching one entirely new prep, a research course, and two old staples. I've never put my courses together this far in advance (sometimes I will even wait until the week before the semester if it is a course I've taught a million times), and I am looking forward to having the time to work new readings and assignments into my existing preps and having time to thoughtfully plan the research course. Coming off sabbatical with stronger courses will be fabulous.

Thanks for the nice feedback on my decision to confront the text issue. I don't feel brave at all, but I do feel like a weight has been lifted.

I Sent the Letter

My hands are shaking and I'm feeling sick (well, more sick), but it is done. All morning I worried over this, but then I realized that as with most things, anticipation is usually the worst part. So I hit send.

I gave her three alternatives: find a coauthor to take over, cut our losses, or continue, but expect this drag on forever and ever. I tried to make the third option look horrible.

How long before she calls and demands a pound of flesh?

Escape

Have you ever had the impulse to run away from those things about your life that you find distasteful? In high school I would sometimes get in my car and drive the 45 minutes through the swamp that separated my smallish hometown from the city. I always turned around, but just knowing I could leave helped.

I have occasionally followed the impulse to get away. I moved from my parents' home the morning after I graduated from high school. It was a good decision. I made a painful break with my first dissertation advisor when he became too close and personal. Another right decision.

More often than not, though, I have not followed the impulse to leave. When I was unhappy after my first semester in college, I went back. When the dissertation was miserable, I kept at it. When I was most unhappy with my marriage, I stayed. These were the correct decisions.

Now I am experiencing that urge to bolt again. This time, it is the text that has me down.

I've had some time this week to contemplate the text, my excruciatingly slow progress on it, and my mental health. And I want out. This isn't worth my sanity. Only my children are worth my sanity, and they are already chipping away at it. I don't need an evil publisher to help them.

The whole project is troubled. First, the timelines were never realistic. There is subtle, but real pressure for me to plagiarize in order to speed things up. I won't do it. Second, the publisher won't allow me to communicate with my editor unless she is copied on every message or conferenced in on phone calls. This is bad on so many levels I don't know where to start. Third, the publisher is unpleasant (my former coauthor calls her “psychotic”) and is extremely aggressive. Utterances like, "We own you" don't help.

I read my contract this week. Yes, I signed it two years ago, but I only read it today. Brilliant, I know. The thing is riddled with the word "exploit" which makes me uneasy. Is this regular legalese or was it a warning that this would be a hellish endeavor? If I understand my contract, then the only penalty for withdrawing is that they can take my work. I can live with this. I faxed the contract to my brother, the hot shot attorney. After he tells me how stupid I was to sign it without running it by him first, he'll interpret it for me.

I've already written a letter to the publisher. In it, I explain that it isn’t feasible to have this complete this summer because I know she wants it to be well-researched and original. In it, I say that I’m increasingly anxious about the project and don’t wish to continue in this manner. I give her three scenarios. In the first, they identify a new coauthor. In the second, we reevaluate deadlines and come up with something a year out so that the content can be strong and original. In the third, we cut our losses and part ways.

I don’t know if I’ll send the letter. My former coauthor (who left the project with a letter to her that ended with a “You aren’t the kind of person I can work with”) said that I should expect her to react with fury and to expect a storm. Am I up for that?

Seven months today

I'm too sick and too tired for a long post, but today is M's seven month birthday so I want to take a moment.

I like this age. She will still fall asleep in my arms and will allow me to cuddle up as much as I like. I'm drinking it all in because I know it won't last. Soon her smooth baby skin will be roughened up from crawling and she will be too busy exploring to cuddle for long.

She has her first tooth, she is able to move around by scooting on her tummy in a bit of an army crawl, she rocks on her knees and goes backwards, she shrieks in delight when I enter a room, she shrieks in displeasure when I exit the room, she is finally sleeping through the night, she loves her big sister, she loves the dogs, and she doesn't mind the car (too much).

We were three and now we are four. I can't imagine it any other way.

Lesson Learned

I've had a cough for a few weeks. Between trying to write, taking care of two little girls, and sleep training (which went beautifully, by the way), I pretty much ignored the cough even when it got worse. I even looked up bronchitis on-line and read that most cases resolve on their own without antibiotics, and that prescribing antibiotics just contributes to the evolution of monster germs. This added to my resolve to wait it out.

Sometime over the weekend, I started feeling exhausted--not sleep deprivation exhausted, but an aching muscle and joint exhausted that I only experience when I am truly ill. Today, I finally gave in and called for a doctor's visit. One chest X-ray later and we had a diagnosis: pneumonia.

Lesson learned. Next time, I'll head to the doctor sooner and do my part to speed the evolution of superbugs.

Sleep Training

I am a zombie mom. Seven months* without a full night's sleep will do that. The results aren't pretty.

I'm forgetful. Did I feed the dogs? Did I give the baby her medicine? Did I make the mortgage payment?

I'm emotional. You left the toilet seat up again? Bastard!

I'm unfocused. Have I really been sitting at the computer for three hours and I only have four paragraphs to show for it?

Something has got to give.

Today, I took M to the doctor to confirm the second round of antibiotics cleared the dreadful ear infection. Her ears looked good, and the doctor gave me permission and encouragement to commence with sleep training while we have a window in which she is free of colds and ear infections.

So baby boot camp has begun, and I'm the reluctant drill sergeant.

My poor baby girl has been crying on and off for an hour. It is 1 a.m. and I am trying not to cave in to her pathetic squawking. I have no philosophical objection to sleep training: I do not believe I am scarring her emotionally nor do I believe she is in terrible distress.

I'm doing this because she needs to learn to self soothe. Because the booby bar closes at 8 from here on out. Because I believe a rested family is a happy family.

Still, it is hard. Has it really been an hour?

********Going to check on her now********


Crap. Now she is more upset. And she just woke her sister.

This is going to be a looooong night.


*Longer, if we count bathroom calls during the third trimester.

A thump on the head

I barely breastfed our first daughter, E. My milk came in late, I had to supplement, supply never caught up with demand, and eventually she refused the breast. I pumped until she was six months old, but it was a relief to stop.

Fast forward to baby M. We had a rough start, but we managed and are going strong at 6.5 months. I'm taking it month by month, but I'm hoping to make it to about a year.

My father-in-law is interested in the breastfeeding. Too interested, if you ask me. I think it goes back to 2.5 years ago when I was nursing M under the cover of a blanket, and he walked over and ripped the blanket off of me before I realized what he was doing. Since M's birth, he asks frequent questions about breastfeeding and makes comments that sometimes make me uncomfortable. It is hard to put my finger on what makes me uncomfortable, but it does.

Last week while they were visiting, I mentioned that M is in the throes of teething and that I expect teeth to break through anytime now. He said, "So you'll stop breastfeeding." I said, "No, I hope to keep going."

So he reached over to where I was playing with M on the floor, and he thumped my head. Hard.
"That's how the Lakota teach their babies not to bite," he told me.

So what about that made me uncomfortable? Maybe it was his assumption that teeth=weaning. Maybe it was his thinking about my breast comfort. Or maybe it was getting thumped hard on the head.

So that is the problem

M has never been a great sleeper, but with a double ear infection that did not respond to first-line antibiotics, M's sleep habits have regressed to that of her five to six week self. I won't try sleep training again until I know that she is not in discomfort. At the same time, E is waking at least once a night for various reasons. One night she wet the bed. Then there was a nightmare. Last night she was lonely and wanted to sleep with us.*

Last night I made a note of each time I woke to attend to one or both of the children. My longest stretch of sleep was just over 90 minutes. That isn't good is it?

I'm pathetically tired. So tired that I stare at the computer screen and my thoughts flit by too rapidly for me to get them down. So tired that I walk into a room with a sense of purpose, but cannot remember what that purpose may be. So tired that I put hair gel on my toothbrush this morning.

I've made little headway on the text in the past two weeks. This makes me feel stupid. Lazy. Slow. And irritable.

So today when a friend send me this Reuter's article, I felt a wee bit better realizing that I really am slower and dumber than I used to be back when I had normal sleep habits.

Child's sleep disorder affects parents too
By Amy Norton

When children have sleep problems, their parents -- especially mothers -- often have sleep-deprived nights too, research shows.

In a study of families with children seen at a sleep clinic, researchers found that when children had multiple sleep problems, their parents were more likely to have daytime drowsiness.

Mothers were generally more affected than fathers, possibly because they were the ones who typically responded to their children's problems in the middle of the night, the researchers speculate.

"A child's sleep problem affects the whole family," said lead study author Dr. Julie Boergers, of Bradley Hasbro Children's Research Center and Brown Medical School in Providence, Rhode Island.

This is important, she told Reuters Health, because research shows that sleep disruptions and daytime sleepiness have negative effects on people's mood, behavior and health. For parents, sleep deprivation may cause them to have less patience with their child or spouse, and be less productive at work and at home, Boergers explained.

The study, published in the Journal of Family Psychology, is based on 107 families of children ages 2 to 12 who were evaluated at a sleep disorders clinic. The children's sleep problems ranged from the breathing disorder sleep apnea to night terrors and sleepwalking to behavioral issues like refusing to go to bed.

When parents were surveyed about their own sleep habits and daytime alertness, it turned out that those whose children had more than one sleep problem tended to suffer more daytime sleepiness than other parents.

This was particularly true of mothers, even though they reported sleeping roughly the same number of hours that fathers did.

It's possible that mothers did have more sleep interruptions than fathers, even though they logged roughly the same number of hours in bed, according to Boergers and her colleagues. While fathers in general may be taking on more child-rearing responsibilities, they note, moms are probably still the ones who more often get out of bed to check on their child.

According to Boergers, some signs of a childhood sleep disorder include excessive daytime sleepiness, difficulty falling asleep, frequent nighttime waking or snoring."It's also important to recognize that some children who demonstrate daytime behavior problems or mood disturbances may suffer from an underlying sleep disorder," she said.

Parents who suspect their child may have a sleep disorder "shouldn't hesitate" to seek help for it, Boergers said, as there are effective behavioral therapies and medications available.

SOURCE: Journal of Family Psychology, March 2007.


*I normally discourage this, but I am so very tired that I relented.