Transitioning Your Child? Just Do It!

In an act of desperation, I posted this message on a private Facebook group page seeking advice from my bestest mommy girlfriends (my inspiration for all that is right in motherhood).

March 18: I need advice!! I've been lying down with my boys in their bed at night since a couple of weeks before our move. We slept in the same bed for two weeks in our hotel. And I'm lying in their bed now in our new home. We're starting week 3 here and I'm still lying down with them at night. It's agonizing now! Any time I try to get away before they fall asleep, they scream "no!" like I'm leaving them with a pack of wolves. I need to stop this madness, but I'm not sure the best way. What would you ladies do? Would you just stop it now, tonight, say good night and let them scream until they fall asleep? Or ease into it by sitting in a chair in their room and each day moving farther and farther from their bed. Advice pleeeeeeease!

Can you feel my fear here?  I just knew that if I just kissed them goodnight after their bedtime stories, they’d throw a huge fit that I wasn’t sure I was mentally ready for. I also knew that they’d wake in the middle of the night screaming for me to lay with them and nobody would get any sleep for days and days.  With the stress of the move and organizing everything in my life, I didn’t think I could take this big change.  But I also knew I couldn’t let this continue.  I was losing all of my “me” time by laying down with them.  I wouldn’t leave their room until about 9:00 p.m. and by then I was ready to just jump into my own bed.  But wasn’t that easier than having to hear them cry for an hour?  I’ll admit it, I was looking for easy! 

I had read about the Sleep Lady and her method gentle sleep training.  You ease into it.  You start out by sitting in a chair next to their bed and you can comfort them and reassure them until they fall asleep.  Then a few nights later, or the next night, you move your chair farther from the bed.  Eventually, you’ll be chilling in the hallway instead of their room.  I tried this for a few nights and though I'm sure it works brilliantly for some moms, I thought to myself that I’d never break free from the chair-so, why not just do this in one fell swoop?

COLD TURKEY – like a few of my friends suggested.

And so I woke that next morning knowing tonight I will end this bedtime madness.  I was nervous all day and I had my armor on-the I know I’m going to fight a battle until the wee hours of morning and not get any sleep tonight game play in my mind.  I coached my boys all day long, “mommy isn’t sleeping with you tonight. I’m going to tell you three stories and then I’m going to kiss you and say good night and I love you, then I’m going to go to sleep in my room.”  I even had Luke repeat that back to me mid-day.  “You’re going to tell us three stories then go sleep in your room. Why?”  Finally, it was time.  It was 7:30 p.m. and we had just finished our third story.  Game on!  “Okay, boys. I love you so much and I hope you have sweet dreams. I’m going to go sleep in my room now.” I kissed them both.  Zealand squirmed and suggested, “no mama, lay here.”  Here we go.  “No Z, mama is going to her room.  I’ll check on you when you fall asleep.” And I headed to the door.  “Good night my loves,” I said. In position, ready for the next move. “Good night mommy,” Luke said as he pulled his doggie close to his chest.  And I shut the door behind me.  I stood there for a few minutes waiting for the screaming and the begging.  All I got was an indulgent quiet.

You won’t believe what happened next…

Absolutely nothing!  They slept like angels through the night in what may have been the most peaceful stretch of sleep I’d gotten in years.  It’s been about a month now, and aside from the occasional “will you please lay with us until we fall asleep” to which I answer “mommy has to sleep in her room, but I will check on you in a little bit”…and of course, the “I need a sip of water” or “one more kiss please”…there hasn’t been any more bedtime battles.

I could’ve let fear override many of my decisions as a mother and I’d still be sleeping with  my boys and not having any time to write or watch Dance Moms Miami. The lesson I learned is so beautiful. 

Whether you’re about to get rid of the bottle, change up your bedtime routine, or attempt some other change that seems impossible or scary – JUST DO IT.  Maybe it will be a little challenging, but it probably won’t be as bad as you’re thinking.  Plus, the sooner the better.  And you know you’ll get through it.  As we all know, kids are resilient. They can handle change.  You just have to take the lead and show them who is boss.

And remember, YOU are the boss! ;)

Dear Lord

 Every evening, after bath and story time—we have prayer time.  I would pray for our family’s safety, prosperity, my thankfulness to God, and whatever else moved me that day.  Then, it would be Callie’s turn to pray.  It was a consistent trend we tried to weave in to our nightly routine, and it would always be neat to see what Callie would pray for each evening.

     The tricky part was keeping her in her own bed after the prayers were done and the lights went out.  She would sneak out of her room as soon as she heard us get in bed…begging to be able to sleep with us.  When she turned about 2 years-old, she started having nightmares and was fearful of monsters.  So, the new battle of getting her to sleep in her own bed begun, and we did everything from bribing with toys, to punishment, to even the dreaded putting her back in her own bed kicking and screaming (ten times).  It was a fight, but we kept at it and started to see some improvement.

     One particular night I was praising Callie on how well she’d done.  For an entire week, she’d slept soundly in her bed, with few middle of the night stirrings.  We read our book of the night, “The Elephants Child” and then started our prayers for the evening.

  “Dear Lord, I thank you for our many blessings you’ve given us…” I began as Callie squeezed her eyes shut and listened intently.  I finished with, “And I thank you for us all sleeping soundly and peacefully in our own beds, Amen.”    

     Then it was her turn, which was the part we both anticipated the most.

    “Dear Lord.  I thank you for my baby brother.  And I thank you for me sleeping in my mommy’s and daddy’s bed tonight.  Amen.”

*Trina 

Bedtime Battles Continued

I’m sure there will be a time when I look back and appreciate the endearing moments of tortured screaming at bedtime.  Maybe when they’re thirteen and they don’t want anything to do with me.  Or when they’re sixteen and sleeping until noon (or maybe it’s the other way around and I don’t know it yet because my boys are 19 months and 33 months-or do I just say almost 3?).

Today, however, it’s the greatest thing in this insane world of motherhood that can get my anxiety to a level I’ve never felt.   The cries, screaming, pleading and bargaining.

During this madness, I’ve got the caring and firm mommy conflicting within me.

The caring and sensitive side of me wants to jump at every cry out and rush to their aide.

“I need my mommy!”  I’m there in a second!

“I have to go potty!”  We were so successful in potty training, how could I betray his trust of the system.

“I need more water!”  It’s summer.  He could be thirsty.  What if he’s dehydrated…I MUST check on him.

“Mommy!  Don’t. Do. This. To. Meeeeee!”  My heart is shattering.  I’m clearly setting him up for emotional disaster. 

And I return to his aide once again.

But then…the curtain falls, the precipitous silence envelopes crowd, the spotlight shining on the other half of me; exhausted, confused, frustrated.

Duped. 

I know I’m being manipulated and I question my reasoning in my coddling moves.   How can it be wrong when it seems so natural and motherly?  I need to be firm.

Yet each afternoon and each night for as long as I can remember, it’s a battle.  My husband, my mother, my best friends all think I should handle it in a different way.  I’ve always been labeled as too sensitive.  Being a firm and consistent mother has no room for the overly sensitive.  And now I feel outplayed.  I need to be stern.  I need to be more consistent. 

I know this is a phase or at least I’m pretty sure they won’t be crying and screaming like this when they’re home visiting us from college.  It’s got to end.  I just hope I can figure it out and do the right* thing along the way.  In the meantime, I’ll just battle my inner Jekyll & Hyde…which is appropriate since it’s my favorite Broadway musical. 

*If you know the right thing, please leave a comment or post on our Facebook page!  Luke, Zealand, (aka...my two little stinkers) if you’re reading this…I’m onto your games and I WILL win this challenge! 


*Leah

 

Speaking of Sleep...

I know you all have heard Samuel L. Jackson’s narration of Adam Mansbach’s Go the F*ck to Sleep, a vertible transcript of many a parent in the midst of their child’s bedtime idiocy. 

The very clip fell into my hands on the first eve of a new bedtime routine.  At no other point could I have related more.  Unless that point is now.  Several weeks later. 

But let’s flash back a moment.  In June, I took my first, very much earned and needed, trip away from all of my boys to spend a blissful weekend at a lake house in Tennessee with ten girlfriends, many of whom I hadn’t even seen since before I had Luke, almost 3 years ago.  The weekend was a mirror of the good ol’ college days… full of vivacious laughter, too much beer, gossip and reminiscence of a time when Hootie and the Blowfish dominated the air waves, everyone wondered if Ross and Rachel would end up together, and Drink & Drown was every Wednesday night at Mainstreet. 

With the precision of an anesthesiologist arriving just when you’re about to tussle with your husband in that “tranquil” birthing suite; I welcomed Sunday relaxed and ready to return to my family.   I’m sure I must’ve had some thoughts that their sleep would be disrupted with the brief change in our home.  I didn’t realize it was going to be a lasting change.  Night after night following my return, my 2 ½ year old refused bed.  He screamed and cried and kicked behind his secured door.  Then suddenly, one night it hit me; he wants freedom.  It occurred to me that my daytime-potty-trained son was becoming too independent to not have the freedom at night. 

Easy enough.  I’ve smuggly watched this one hundred times on Supernanny.  I was better than all of those moms.  I’ve got this under control, I thought.  I shared my master plan with my husband:  tonight, we set him free.  If he comes out, we simply put him back in his bed without a word.  He’ll get bored and we’ll win.

Excitedly, I share with my big boy that we have officially removed his safety lock.

“Honey, when you have to go potty, just come on out and we’ll make sure you go and then you just go right back to bed.” 

He seized the opportunity.  The freedom.  Immediately.  And five minutes later, he did again.  And again.  Each time, I did as I had studied and without a word, I returned him to his bed.  Before I knew it, almost two hours had gone by and I had lost my “me time” for that night. 

This continued.  Night after frustrating night, I felt myself losing.  I was no longer in control.  He was flat out manipulating me and my husband knew it.  Why wasn’t this working, I questioned my process wishing that Brit nanny was sitting with me, coaching me.  But she wasn’t.  I couldn’t process the situation any longer. 

I talked to my friends.  I talked to my mom.  Even now, I don’t exactly have an answer.  But we have found a compromise.  He gets three chances (and that is way too many chances!) to use the potty from the time we start our bedtime stories.  By the third chance, he gets to use the potty but the gate on his door.  For over a week now, he’s just been playing the game.   He will repeat our deal verbatim. 

“Three times and I get the gate.”  He recites.

“Yes, son.  But you don’t want the gate up.  You just want to stay in your room after the second time.”  I smile, encouragingly.

He’s playing the game.  He will reach the third potty break and say, “Okay, that was three.”  He hops back into bed, I have to tuck him in, put the gate up and then…finally…quiet.

I may not be able to actually use the F-word to enhance my wishes at bedtime, but you know as I picture my cushy couch and that empty wine glass awaiting me in the next room; I sure am thinking it.