My Crib Hating Tyrant Used To Be A Great Sleeper

I know some of you with younger babies aren’t going to want to hear this, but it’s true.  I had a baby who was a great sleeper, until she woke up one day and after two years decided that was it.  She has a crusade on her hands and it’s the fight against a good night’s sleep.  And I’m powerless.

Read more about our rediscovered sleep deprivation in my feature at Mommyish:

My Great Sleeper Is Suddenly A Crib Hating Tyrant

Has anyone been through this weird regression?  Nothing is out of the ordinary – no changes, no travel, no daylight savings, etc.  Will it pass?  My sanity needs to know.

It’s all about the people.

Earlier this week I wrote about my inspirational takeaway from BlogHer’12.  With all that touchy-feely stuff out of the way, it’s time to dish the dirt.

1.  I met some amazing people.  The first face I saw when walking into the Hilton Grand Ballroom was Kim from Mama By The Bay.  Beautiful, friendly and smiling, she was a sight for sore eyes and a perfect way to start off the weekend.  Then I scored a personal invite to the suite of Outlaw Mama and Moments of Exhilaration, where I stayed until my family begged me to come home.  Maybe it’s our legal backgrounds (doubtful), our complicated relationships or just general awesomeness (that’s probably it), but these ladies instantly felt like friends I’ve had for decades.

Other highlights:  after talking to Michelle for five minutes, the recognition clicked and she exclaimed, “oh, you’re YOU!”; karaoke with Laurel — even though there was no actual karaoke, we thought the dance floor was a perfectly appropriate place to belt out our favorite songs; having the balls to walk up and have a conversation with each one of the delightful Mouthy Housewives (my humor heroes).

2.  I also met a lot of ‘lifestyle’ bloggers. Does anyone know: what the h*ll is a lifestyle blog?  It’s probably best I remain in the dark since I have no life and no style.

3.  There were a lot of people I didn’t have the opportunity to meet.  A conference of over 4,000 (mostly) women bloggers can be overwhelming and it’s hard to balance the panels, the speakers and social time.

The swag was underwhelming, the food starchy (I ate a bagel/roll for every meal) and the parties exhausting (or maybe it was the 18 hour conference days), but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Tired of my vituperation? (I had to look it up too)  I’m over at Skinny Mom handing out practical advice on how to get your kids to sleep (something with which I have a lot of heartache experience).  It’s the first of my weekly contributions as Taskmaster Mom.   Check me out every Wednesday!

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Don’t worry, the bible confuses me too Kimmie.


The novelty of the new apartment and new playgrounds has worn off and the kids are screaming for routine.  No one is sleeping, everything feels strange.  The heat is suffocating.  So I am stumbling through day by day, trying to figure it all out.

Here’s one lesson from this morning:  when your 3-year-old wakes up with a stiff neck so bad he can’t move without crying out in excruciating pain, try a little Icy Hot.  That intense, alarming, completely foreign sensation will make him actually crawl out of his skin.  Exorcism completed.  Problem solved.  You’re welcome.

In other Bible news, I’ll leave you with a wonderful story I heard recently.

Close your eyes.  Picture it. 

The late 1st century BC a young woman by the name of Mary married a man named Joseph at the age of 12 and accompanied him to Bethlehem.  They later divorced.  She engaged in sexual intercourse many times with multiple partners from the age of 14 to 31.  Some of these encounters were filmed and viewed by millions of people around the world.

At the age of 40 when Mary decided she wanted to have a child, she slept all night outside, waiting patiently for an opening at the local fertility clinic.  Once admitted, she was artificially inseminated.  Thus was conceived the baby Jesus.

This is the Gospel according to Kim Kardashian.

Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.


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An announcement AND a game! (I’m such a giver)

First off, the big news.


Me at 35 weeks (thanks Mom for the excellent genes!!!)

Just kidding.  Seriously.  I mean seriously I’m just kidding.

(pick your jaw up off the ground, it’s not a good look)

Come on, that’s what everyone thinks when a married woman of child-bearing years says she has an announcement.  I had to go for the easy target.

The real announcement is WE MOVED! Only in NYC can you move 3.6 miles and have it feel like a different country.

We’ve discussed this before, but just to recap:  my husband hates change and I love it.  I’m like fast paced, always present, cheap thrill-seeking Twitter while he is ever-mourning, we-had-it-so-good-for-awhile, why-did-you-have-to-go-and-find-something-better? MySpace.

I think of moving like an adventure: every new playground, restaurant and street vendor has the potential excitement of Christmas morning.

He thinks of it as a chapter ending: tearful goodbyes, never agains and remember whens.

To be fair, moving isn’t all fun and roses.  We can both agree on these ten tortures.

Top 10 Worst Things About Moving:

1.  Packing

2.  Unpacking

3.  Getting lost in your own neighborhood

4.  Nearly dying from starvation because you don’t know where to find the good restaurants

5.  Brushing your teeth with your finger because you can’t find your toothbrush

6. Brushing your hair with your fingers because you can’t find your hairbrush

7. Putting your 3-year-old to bed in your daughter’s size 3 diaper because you can’t find his pull-ups

8.  Vowing to wash every single glass and plate before you eat because who knows what those packing boxes and paper are made of or where they came from

9.  The failure of giving up said project after 4 dishes because you can’t find the Cascade.  And the guilt of abandoning something you really believed in

10.  The reason I had no internet for TWO WHOLE days (yes, I survived, and yes, please send chocolate to soothe the pain).

Need I say more?


Alas, I promised you an announcement and a game.  Because that’s just the kind of value gal I am – giving you more in your blog reading experiences.

Without further ado, welcome to my very first edition of “I’m Right, You’re Wrong” inspired by one of my favorite bloggers, Marinka.

Here are the quick rules: I’m Right, You are Wrong.

In today’s example the part of “You” will be played by my otherwise awesome brother (yes, I have two.  Bonus points to the friends and family who correctly identify which one).

Behold the following dialogue*:

Me:  I know you have been faithfully reading my blog, dear brother.  Your support means the world to me.

You:  Hey, I think I inspired** one of your recent posts.  When I sent you that article about kid music?

Me: That’s right, you did!

You: Way to rip-off** my idea.

*This dialogue may be generally exaggerated.

**with the exception of these words, which were the EXACT words he used.

From the name of the game, we already know my position on who is right and who is wrong, but I want to hear from you too.

Position #1:  It is ludicrous to claim sending an article as “your idea” and rude to call someone a “rip-off”.

Position #2:  It is perfectly acceptable to ask someone if you inspired them and then when they answer in the affirmative, call them a RIP-OFF.   You are like a thought-stealing detective, pre-crime division.

What do you think???

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If you are free tonight, God, I have a favor to ask

Dear god:

I am so very sorry for laughing at moms who told tales of children over a year not sleeping through the night.  Please ask your fiery torture administrator (aka my daughter) to back off.  She not only doesn’t sleep through the night, she doesn’t sleep more than two hours at a time.  That’s not true, she has one four hour stretch when I put her down at 730. THEN it’s every two hours.  Sometimes every hour.  You must really think I was particularly cruel to these complaining women.  For this I apologize profusely.

As of late you seem to have engaged my son in your efforts as well.  I must report he is working superbly with your primary torture administrator.  They never wake at the same time, alternating seamlessly.  Some of your best work was Friday night.  Remember, when Chloe woke at 11:30pm and then again at 1230am?  Gavin shrieked about a wet bed at 2am.  Chloe up again at 3am.  At 4am, for the love of screaming at the top of your lungs, Gavin COULD NOT FIND FINN MCMISSILE.  That woke everyone.  Except daddy of course.  This torture is designed specifically for mommy and like a dog to his human, he cannot hear these cries.

I am wondering if you were busy with March Madness on Sunday night because Chloe only woke at 2am and 4am and Gavin slept until 630.  My bleary eyes were thankful that Kansas needed that much help beating Purdue on their way to the Sweet Sixteen.  Two night wakings after my own 4 hour stretch of sleep barely registered on my sleep deprivation meter.  It remained steady at “SEVERE” without crossing into “tomorrow you might be arrested for CHILD ENDANGERMENT.”

Despite thinking I was in a comfort zone as a mother, you have sufficiently humbled me.  I don’t know what to do about Chloe’s inability to sleep through the night.  I admit it!  I nurse, I refuse to nurse, I soothe, I let her cry.  I am at a loss.  There is no quicker and easier way to have a mommy call mercy than to render her sleep deprived…for over three years (what? no one sleeps during their third trimester).

You win dear god.  Consider me Daniel Plainview in church at the hands of Eli.  I will say whatever you need to hear.  Please just let my children learn to sleep a whole night through.

Eternally yours,



PS – Don’t get all warm and fuzzy at this family cuddle.  It’s a survival technique.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

PSS – note the offending Finn McMissile in the photo.  I wonder if he is the one behind all this torture.  He is a spy after all…