It’s been a while since I’ve posted and principally it’s because the chaos that is life with three kids has gotten in the way. Not that my time constraints have changed that much since I started writing the blog, but I guess in a way, the baby has altered things as he’s developed his own personality and is now a full fledged member of the Roseman clan. But, I had a breakthrough the other night. Not a parenting one, but a moment where my mind clicked once again and my next top 5 materialized. Sure it was because I was rocking the little one for 40 minutes trying to get him to go the fuck to sleep, but still. Writing is an outlet for me, but over the past 3 months, it seems Arrow has been the only thing to keep me sane.
If you’re reading this looking for advice on how to get your kids to be good sleepers, you’ve come to the wrong blog. We make every mistake in the book, but fuck it, we’ve tried all the methods and for us at least, they don’t work, so we just look to survive and advance. My baby isn’t alone in his struggle to go to sleep (and stay asleep for that matter), but as I’m rocking him back and forth (terrible for his ability to self soothe), I wonder what’s behind his inability to just shut it down. And then it hits me, there’s five principal reasons why he sucks at it:
You don’t want any more siblings:
Me fucking either buddy, but I took care of that. Now I wear protection.
Because you think you’re at a rave:
Between the ambient white noise sounds, the karate match that’s taking place next door, the beats being laid down from my playlist, and the bright lights pulsating from my phone, there’s nothing relaxing about your sleep experience. Well buddy, there’s nothing relaxing about my life experience so tough shit.
Because your brothers are assholes:
Asking the boys to be considerate is like asking them to clean up or not fight or listen, it just doesn’t happen. And now that we have this indoor play gym installed in one of the rooms, they go all American Ninja Warrior style each night . . . until one of them cries . . . or takes a swing . . . or tantrums . . . or a combo deal. At least I’m in the other room with a baby who’s ready to party instead of managing that nightmare.
Because sleep confusion doesn’t build sleep hygiene the way muscle confusion builds muscles:
One night you’re being rocked to sleep, the next night how about you cry it out.
In the middle of the night, I won’t pick you up when you wake up, well ok fine, but only until you fall back asleep and then it’s back in your crib.
There’s absolutely no way you’re coming into our bed and passing out. Fine, fuck it, just come in our bed and watch Paw Patrol and drink milky.
Because you suck at it:
Let’s call a spade a spade. Everyone has their deficits. Your oldest brother is Mr Bump, #2 is Mr. Angry, and you’re Mr. I suck at sleeping. As the third boy, I know it’s tough competing for our affection and attention, but at least you’ve got this title on lock down.