Sleeping Vicariously

Our babysitter came over at 5PM and announced that  it was her birthday. For a second, I was confused. "Why's she here? Shouldn't she be out celebrating tonight?" I thought.

Then she added, "After I leave here, I 'm going to take a nap and then my friends are taking me out."

Ah, youth. I had nearly forgotten. Then, she nonchalantly mentioned sleep and I remembered. She's 21. She's not a mom.

I found her lack of reverence for sleep breathtaking. She announced taking a nap at night like it was a given. It signified the ability to sleep with abandon, to run fast and lose with it, like a profligate. She might as well have been discussing inhaling and exhaling instead of the exotic treasure to be coveted that sleep has become to me.

She says stuff off the cuff with no idea how it stops me in my tracks. One time, I asked her about her trip home to visit her family. She came out with this beaut, "I only got to lay out once."

Lay out? First, I don't need any more wrinkles, thank you very much, Ms. Flawless Twenty-Something Skin Girl. Second, do you know how much I would give for the time to lie my body in a horizontal position in the sun with the sole responsibility of baking my front and backside evenly (and, dare I say it...sleeping)?

I think about sharing how different our respective perspectives are, but I know she just wouldn't understand. So I just nod, as if I'm commiserating about the horrible tragedy that befell her while sitting at home and cursing the grey skies above.

I was 21. I understand her. It took her reminder, but I remember. When you're 21, you have long stretches of time to fill at your leisure. Napping is something you take for granted, tan lines a major preoccupation.

She can't possibly comprehend how something as commonplace as sun-worshipping turns into a huge indulgence for the mom of a toddler. As it should be. Really, I didn't grasp what an overwhelming, non-stop responsibility a child is either, until becoming a mom.

The funny thing is that I didn't feel jealous of her carefree ways, certainly not about the laying out bit. Being 21 may mean a world of possibility is ahead of you, but I also remember a lot of confusion about what direction to take in life and many missteps along the way.

I can appreciate the privilege of youth without wanting to go back. Rather bizarrely, I feel more rested just thinking about napping after dark.

I am vicariously sleeping. Is there such a thing? There is now.



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Photo Source: Mike Lehmann, Mike Switzerland, Wikipedia. License This photo has been altered and does not suggest that the licenser endorses this blog or its use.

Catnap

This post is barely a post. It's more of a thought, which has taken on a life of its own. At one point, it could've been a tweet, but it's bigger than Twitter now. It occupies a significant amount of space in my brain, and needs to be set free in blog form.

I am jealous of my cat. I'm jealous of his ability to indulge so heedlessly, so capriciously in the one thing that has become a luxury in my life. He gets to sleep.

I don't get enough sleep. I do, however, have ample opportunity to contemplate and covet the sleeping habits and proclivities of my cat.

My cat's resting world seems as active as his waking one. I see his ears and nose twitch. I wonder what he's dreaming about: sitting at the window and watching birds fly by, running away from Claire as she tries to pull his tail, tuna fish. Sometimes, he half wakes up from his dream about tuna fish. Eyes like slits, he yawns with abandon and lazily repositions himself for another stint on the couch. He may have just enough energy to get one long sweep of the tongue down his backside before he's sleeping again. His brief time awake seems to really tire him out.

I've actually tried to amuse myself by attempting to wake him up. I figure misery loves company. Claire gets out the maracas. I'll bang them extra loud with her and watch, as he opens one eye, disoriented and confused. I'll softly lob small plastic toy pieces at his chair, while he's in repose on his favorite pillow (animal lovers: don't worry; I have a really bad aim, on purpose).

He has amazing adaptive abilities. He's learned to ignore my interruptions. He has turned resting into an art form, taken it to a whole new level of Zen. Sometimes, a small plastic toy piece will land on him, and he won't even notice (I lied. Sometimes, they hit him).

The Sensei of Sleep, really. If I weren't so incensed, I'd probably be in awe of his masterful ability to so unabashedly embrace slumber.

But my cat has betrayed me. We used to sleep together, snuggle up on the couch for a snooze. Distant memories, now. He seems to have forgotten our good ol' days altogether.

One day, we will find our way back to one another. I can only hope, because I certainly ain't doing much dreaming…


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Get Out of My Bed!

If I said to you, "your baby is going to grow up emotionally unattached, because you let him sleep in his own crib", you would yell "Poppycock!" (or use some other form of strong language).

You would be right to do so. Making such a broad prediction about a child based on a family's sleeping style is not only taking a rather limited view of child-rearing, it's insulting.

So why is it considered ok by some to say that co-sleeping families are sure to raise indulgent, dependent children? I've been hearing this opinion about our own family's decision to co-sleep, since before Claire was born.

I read it again recently in the comment section of an article entitled "Have American Parents Got It All Wrong" in The Huffington Post. The gist of the article is that parents in other countries do a better job bringing up independent and self-reliant children. The reader commenting shared her opinion that co-sleeping is adding to the problem of needy kids in America.

The ironic part is that some of the countries touted in the article as raising more independent children have high rates of co-sleeping. The National Institute of Health compiled data that showed that 88.2% of Korean families co-slept with their children aged 12-82 months. Data from another study showed that 65% of Swedish families co-slept at three months.

Honestly, I'm not even trying to make a case for co-sleeping here. Other countries that were mentioned in the article have much lower rates of co-sleeping. The same study found that 23% of German families co-sleep at age three months.

I do have a challenge for the woman who wrote the comment critical of co-sleeping, though. I dare her to stand in a room with 10 kids and tell me which children slept in a crib as a baby and which did not. I bet she couldn't.

Parenting is not so simple. It's not an all or nothing game. The idea that a baby's level of independence while sleeping results in greater autonomy later in life is as narrow-minded as the idea that a baby's dependence equals more connectedness. Individual personalities and characteristics of children that have nothing to do with parenting styles surely come into play. Then, there are the millions of interactions between parent and child that take place during daylight hours. I'm sure there are plenty of bed sleeping children who are cautious, just as there are co-sleeping children who are risk-takers.

And, lady, just plain stop the judging. My gut feeling about parenting styles in general is that children intuitively know when you believe in the way you are raising them. If you are confident in your decisions, they will be too, which will go a long way in growing secure and capable beings.

Paradoxically, too, our children are going to struggle in life, because of and despite of some of our parenting choices. We must be humble enough to admit that there is much about parenting that is out of our control. Wouldn't it be great if we could just all be there for one another when our children falter, instead of finding fault or blame?

And, speaking of judging. I don't know why anyone cares when, how, where and how often my husband and I have sex, which is yet another preoccupation of the HuffPo commenter and many others who are critical of co-sleeping.

Worry about your own marital bed, lady, not my family bed.


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Photo Source: Shiny Things, Flickr.com

The Five W's of New Year's

New Year's Eve is pretty uncomplicated as a single person. Each year, many things about celebrating remain the same. You know the why and when of the holiday. You simply decide where to go, who to go with and what to wear. 

Being married with a kid, New Year's Eve is easy in one respect. Chances are you won't care what you're wearing. Beyond your sartorial choice, the holiday becomes much more strategic. The where to celebrate becomes contingent on a who: "Who will watch the baby, if we go out for New Year's Eve?" The why becomes fraught: "Why in the world would I want to drink when I  have to take care of a child bright and early in the morn?" And the when is worst of all..."Are you kidding me? Stay up til midnight when me daughter will be the first one in the Western Hemisphere to wake up on New Year's Day?!"

Last night, George and I threw caution to the wind (well, we didn't actually go anywhere) and made it to the countdown and beyond, in spite of this cautionary tale. We had a lovely bottle of champagne (popping the cork quietly to ensure our daughter's continued slumber). At the stroke of midnight, I got to kiss my husband on the lips, like most couples do around the world. "Let the morning be damned", I thought. 

And here's the kicker. Claire decided to SLEEP IN ON THE FIRST MORNING OF THE NEW YEAR!  When her cries intruded upon my dreamland, as they do every morning, I looked up and the clock said 7:40!! Unheard of…priceless…a gift from above!

If you don't have kids, the hour on the clock may not seem like such a great deal. The moms and dads among us will surely understand the majesty of the scenario. 

So, thanks, Claire. I begin this year with an extra spring in my step! Tomorrow morning….be damned!

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