Things I have learned about my three year old (so far).

(She is almost as tall as our irises.)

1. The two year-old style "fits" have decreased, but the yelling in my face has increased. Now we have a "no yelling in my face" rule, which I never imagined I would have to create.

2. She is still extremely cautious, and embraces self-preservation. After we converted Penny's crib to a toddler bed, it took her a week to figure out that she could get out of it on her own. In the morning, if she wakes up before we do (e.g. weekends), she will call for me, and I will call back (from bed), "Come here." And then I can hear the tiniest creak of the floorboards, followed by the sound of her little feet on the floor, pum, pum, pum, pum, PUM! And then she's at my side of the bed, smiling in my sleepy, disheveled face.

3. She has a bladder of steel. We are deep in the throes of potty training, for real this time. Pull-ups have been banished and are only for sleeping. Underwear is in full effect. Accidents have been minimal, except that she hides in her closet to poop. In her underwear. Sigh. Anyway, the first couple of days she only peed a couple of times, so either she can hold it for a long time, or her bladder is incredibly strong, or using the potty is just that horrible.

4. Someday she will read this and be totally mortified by item #3. But I really couldn't be prouder. She even used the potty at Grandma's house today, which is a giant step. We are finally getting somewhere.

5. She adores her family. When I tell her that her Aunt M and Uncle P are coming over for dinner, she claps her hands and shouts, "They're part of my family!"

6. She is on our schedule; therefore we have created a monster. Britt and I stay up pretty late, (although it seems to be getting harder with age), and now so does Penny. We TRY to start the bedtime ritual by 8:30, but she's the queen of stalling. Even if we get her in bed by 9:00, she talks and sings to herself and carries on for an hour afterwards. Then I have to wake her up on the mornings I go to work, and it's not pleasant.

When Penny was two, I heard over and over that three is worse than two. I think we're doing ok. Some things have certainly improved, and others have sort of evolved, or devolved, for better or for worse. I could do without the yelling, but I appreciate the energetic attempt at communication. The bedtime routine could be faster, but at least she doesn't get out of her bed! So I'll just count my blessings, then.

When Things Happen in Threes

Forgive me if this post goes into too much detail, but I would be remiss if I didn't try to explain the recent chaos in my life and describe what was one of the worst weeks we've had in a long time.

In the midst of changing jobs, I had been wrapping things up with the old job so I could start the new one, which included one last trip out to the boonies. When I returned, I discovered one of my tires had a flat. Fortunately it happened overnight in the parking stall, so at least it didn't blow out while I was driving on the road. I even managed to get the lug nuts off the tire and the car on the jack by the time Britt arrived to help me get the spare on. We shall call the flat tire Rupture Number One.

That weekend, Penny developed a fever and said her ear hurt. She was very specific about which ear was bothering her; it was her right ear, not her left. She didn't have a runny nose or a cough, but I'd had a sore throat for a couple of days, so I figured she was coming down with another cold. I alternated Tylenol and Ibuprofen for her fever and pain, and hoped she'd be better in a couple of days. Note: Ear infections usually resolve on their own, it was the weekend and my doctor wasn't in, and she seemed ok otherwise.

That Tuesday morning, I woke up because of a stabbing pain in my uterus. It was blinding, constant pain—not cramps, which come on and dissipate; this was like nothing I'd experienced before. I couldn't stand up. I started sweating profusely and I felt like throwing up. As I was lying on the nice, cool floor, I calculated where I was in my cycle and concluded there was no way I was pregnant. Penny brought me a blanket and covered me up while I sent Britt a desperate text. He came home as soon as he could and took us both to our doctor. Penny's fever had spiked and she was still complaining of ear pain, so we thought, let's take this party to the waiting room!

The theory is that I had an ovarian cyst rupture; which would be Rupture Number Two. Apparently this happens to women, although this was a new experience for me. It hurts like hell when it happens, and then you're ok. And I was ok, after a couple of hours. Ladies, has this happened to you? How come no one talks about it? Meanwhile, Penny definitely had an ear infection in her right ear and we started her on antibiotics. We also stopped at McDonald's on the way home and Penny and I both got Happy Meals, even though they don't contain any real food. It just sounded good.

Wednesday night, Penny had been asleep for a couple of hours, then woke up crying. I comforted her for a bit, and noticed her hair seemed damp, as if she'd been sweating. She said her throat hurt. I gave her some water and held her for a while, and then she went back to sleep. The next morning, Britt said, "Um, her ear is draining. A lot."



Which brings us to Rupture Number Three.

*We interrupt this post to explain how the middle ear system works:*
Our eustachian tubes help equalize the pressure in our ears. Children have smaller heads, so their eustachian tubes are shorter and more horizontal, so when kids get sick with colds and congestion, the tissues surrounding the eustachian tube swell up, and basically pinch it off. This creates a nice little vacuum in the middle ear space behind the eardrum. The resulting pressure draws fluid out of the membranes in the middle ear, which accumulates behind the eardrum. This fluid is a nice breeding ground for bacteria, so the fluid can become infected when bacteria gets in there and multiplies. In severe cases, the eardrum can rupture because of the build up of infected fluid behind it.


Penny's rendition of a bear with "yucky" ears. :(

So, that dampness I thought was sweat was actually infected middle ear fluid from Penny's ruptured ear drum. She wasn't in pain anymore, as the pressure was alleviated when her eardrum burst. Also, the eardrum is a remarkable thing—it can heal itself. But I felt like a negligent monster. I see kids with draining ears all the time at work, but having it happen to your own child really puts things into perspective. Penny's ear oozed goo for a couple of days; they don't tell you in school that it will get all over clothes and bedsheets and and matted in hair. Yuck.


No fever and no pain; time to mess with the cat.



Anyway, we survived. I was able to pack up my office that weekend, thanks again to Britt, who helped with everything behind the scenes, and I started my new job last Monday. Whew. Looks like I'll be bringing Penny in to see some friends of mine to make sure her ear heals.

The Ups and the Downs and the Screams in Between

Part of my slacking off with regular posting is because we've settled into a rather nice routine, a comfortable, regular routine, and there hasn't been much to report, really. My days off with Penny are sublime, and I look forward to spending time with her. We get up, eat breakfast, go to dance or to story time, we eat lunch and watch Sesame Street, we take a nap (and sometimes I actually exercise instead), we get up again, we make dinner. Nice, right? On the days I go to work, Penny gets to play with her Grandma and they pretty much do whatever they feel like, and then I pick Penny up and she tells me about her day. The good days are very, very good. I can't believe my good fortune.

But there are bad days too. I'm amazed at how quickly my mood changes, depending on Penny's mood. If she's cranky, I am instantly cranky. I have to consciously remind myself that I'm the adult. She angrily SHOUTS demands like a tiny dictator. Where does she get it? Not from me, I swear! I'm polite! I tell her a million times a day to say "please" after each command she issues. Surely there will be a point where she will remember to include it on her own. She does often say, "Thank you, Mama." And that makes me so happy, I can't even tell you.



Meanwhile, she's rude to other people! Especially to her Grandpas. I don't know what that's about. Random people in the store compliment her, and she recoils, shouting, "Nooo!" I'm glad she has stranger danger because that's a good survival skill, but at some point this behavior won't be acceptable. So I'm trying to combat it by modeling polite responses to people, by asking her to say hello, by encouraging her to at least give her Grandpa a high-five if she doesn't feel like hugging him or saying goodbye. Please tell me other children are this stubborn and dramatic.

The drama doesn't end when Penny goes to sleep. Most nights she sleeps fine, but there are some nights were she wakes up screaming. It makes me bolt upright in bed from a dead sleep. So I rush to her bed, to see what's wrong. And she'll ask for water in a perfectly normal voice. What? I thought you were dying! I don't know if she has nightmares, and jolts awake, and if that's so unsettling she screams? She has a little night light, so it's not completely dark in her room. Maybe I should finally convert her crib into a bed so she won't feel trapped? Maybe the crib helps her feel contained and safe? I don't know!

It's plain to me that with each new phase of development, I feel like a brand new parent. I've never had a two (almost three) year old. Just when I think I've got this parenting thing down, my toddler throws me a curve ball and I feel totally incompetent. But tomorrow is always another day, a fresh start. A chance to be the rational, even-tempered mother (and adult) I know I am.

Remind me to rant about the potty next time (another source of frustration and the ultimate power struggle). I've complained enough about my sweet babe for one evening.

Also: Penny announced the other night that Miss Piggy is her favorite Muppet, so that might explain a few things.

And a Happy New Year

How is everyone? Did you survive the weekend? For a minute there, I wasn't sure we were going to make it. I don't know if it was stress from the regular holiday insanity, but Penny and I didn't get along well last week. Every day was Opposite Day, the Word of the Week was "NO," time outs were threatened and enforced. I nicknamed her the Bipolar Baby because her mood swings were so extreme, I wondered if there was an adolescent trapped in her two year old body. She was crying one minute and laughing maniacally the next. I had an emergency play date with my sister-in-law and her kids, and it helped immensely (although it did involve the extrication of a traumatized Penny from the upper tier of a local play-land).

On Friday I had to go to 5 different places with all of the other last-minute shoppers and I dragged Penny along with me, and in hindsight, she put up with a lot. Also, I think there were some underlying fears about Santa, which I finally picked up on after Penny said, for the tenth time, "I don't like Santa."

Part of our problem was we went into party mode, as any self-respecting member of my family does this time of year. Penny stayed up too late, slept in too late (I never thought I would ever say that), and was surly as hell. Then Christmas morning came, and there were presents from Santa, and presents with Britt's family, and presents with my family, and Penny was totally overstimulated.


Seriously awesome rocking horse from our cousins in CO. Olivia is along for the ride.

Fortunately, Opa came to visit, and for the first time, Penny said, "Opa, you come play with me?" And how could he resist?


Drawing with Opa.


Using up the purple.

And now, she's back to her normal, (relatively) reasonable, adorable self, and we're friends again. She has many new things with which to play, and now that the chaos has waned, she's been telling jokes, like this:

Penny: "Mama, say Knock, Knock."
Me: "Ok, Knock, Knock!"
Penny: "Who there?"
Me: "Interrupting Cow."
Penny: "Come in!"



Also, she's been expressing her own opinions about songs on the iPod or the radio, and admonishes me if I change songs. "Mama, I like this song, don't change it." LIKE I would switch away from New Sensation!

Speaking of expression, the easel was pure genius, if I do say so myself. Penny received oodles of art supplies from her family (who got the memo from Santa) and she creates something new every day. She's already used up the purple pastel and the red and green ones need replacing as well. And this makes me very happy. I want 2011 to be full of art, of reading more together, of doing at least one thing with Penny every day that makes me feel like I'm doing a good job fostering her imagination, her creativity, or her emotional well being. Even if a whole day is crap, if I can point to one thing every day and say, "That was great when we did ____ together," then I think that will make for a pretty good year. And I think we can do it.

Mother of the Year.

Can a day go by without some measure of mental flogging on my part because of some parenting mistake I've made? I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent (there had better not be). But here's the horrible thing I did:

We had discounted tickets to go to Lagoon, so we went with the Fam. Penny would have been pleased as punch to ride the carousel a million times, and I should have just left her alone. But her cousin (the daredevil) was having a blast on the other rides, so I thought maybe Penny should branch out a bit.

First, we tried the boats. We really talked them up and said she could ride with her cousin. That got her excited, because she loves to do whatever Isabelle does. The boats are connected in a circle, floating on a small amount of water, and they have little bells for the kids to ding and steering wheels to steer while they go in their happy little circle. Fun, right? Penny barely tolerated it. She looked worried the whole time, as though thinking, "You can drown in two inches of water..." But she didn't cry! Hooray, we thought. Let's try another one!


Aboard the ill-fated "Goldfish."

Next came the cars, which seemed innocuous enough. The cars go on a little track, with no real steering involved. The only drawback is parents can't ride with their kids. So we watched Penny's cousin and her little friend go first, and they had a grand old time. Then we stood in line and watched child after child get in, take off, and come back around the track. Penny said she wanted to do it. I explained I couldn't go with her, but look how much fun it is! Whee! Then it was her turn, and the ride operator helped her get in. She panicked as the car jumped to life, ambling along the track. But she was already on her way, her cries of protest fading away from me.

Britt was on the other end of the track, waiting for her to appear. He reports that she seemed ok coming around the bend, but that as soon as she saw him, she lost it. And that's when I realized that we are really big jerks.

She made it back to me, escaped the clutches of the horrible car, and we cheered and applauded, and told her she was very brave. And yet it wasn't the end of our ruthless "this is good for you!" experiment.

It started to get hot, so we decided to cool off by going on one of the water rides. We thought, it will be like splashing in the kiddie pool! She'll love it! We can all ride together! But we neglected to consider that there wouldn't be enough weight in the boat to steer away from the waterfalls.

Have I mentioned that Penny hates to get splashed? I mean, no one loves a big splash in the face (except Penny's cousin), but Penny finds it particularly offensive. So of course, with each bump and spray and oops! and wow, that's a really big waterfall coming up, was cause for alarm. Isabelle laughed and screamed and giggled. And Penny sobbed. When it was clear we couldn't steer away from the waterfall, I threw myself on top of her in a foolish attempt to keep her dry. Did I mention the water was cold?

We've never gotten that drenched before. Britt and I were soaked to the bone. Our pants and shoes were sopping. Afterward, I realized I had only packed an extra shirt for Penny, not pants. Yep, Mom of the Year, right here. I forced my kid to endure cold splashing water and didn't even bring a dry outfit.

So, to make it up to her, we hit the carousel for the rest of the day. Later that night, she refused to go to sleep, even though she was utterly exhausted. I think she had some lingering separation anxiety from that horrible car incident.


All better, now.

Penny can recap the experience in her own words: "I like merry-go-round. I don't like the cars. I don't like that WATER." And each time she says that, I feel worse. I wonder if my attempts at forcing bravery will backfire completely. Have I lost her trust? Will she be willing to try it again in another year? Or will she go running for the hills? And is it wrong that a teeny part of me thinks the whole thing was just a little bit funny? God, I'm a jerk.

More Parenting Fails can be found on a recent post at Flotsam. Reading the comments made me feel slightly better.

Bad Dreams

A wise friend told me that sleep training never really ends. Just when things are going fantastically well in the sleep department, something happens. Like nightmares. Penny has a recurring bad dream that a baby giraffe is outside her window. She says it's a baby giraffe, not a mama, and he's cute and has spots and everything, but the thought of that giraffe peeking through her window is disturbing enough to her that she cries out a couple of times a week after going to bed. When I go in, she explains the whole thing to me, that it was a bad dream, that it was a baby giraffe, with spots, etc. And then she rolls over and goes back to sleep.

Another wise friend told me that when she was little, her mom used to tell her to think about happy things, so she wouldn't be troubled by the scary things. So I've been telling Penny to do just that:

Penny: AAaaaahhh! Mama! Mama!
Me: What's wrong?
Penny: I had bad dream. Baby giraffe out the window.
Me: It was just a dream. Think about happy things, ok?
Penny: Ok, I think happy things. Sigh.
Me: Goodnight, go to sleep.

I want a creative child, with a healthy imagination, but could the imagination maybe just take a break at night?

Another thing Penny detests is thunder, and with regular late-summer mid-afternoon thunderstorms rolling in, napping can be tricky sometimes. And how do you explain thunder in concrete terms to a two year old? I told her thunder comes from the clouds during a storm but that it's not scary. But sometimes I think thunder is scary too, so that pretty much makes me a liar.

Yet another thing is the ritualistic bed-time stalling, where suddenly Penny is extremely interested in picking up toys, anything to prevent bedtime. If only she would clean the house during the day! And sometimes I have to go in and put her blanket on her 5 times before she settles down. As I write this, she's supposed to be napping, but she keeps having blanket malfunctions. I finally had to tell her I wouldn't be coming back in to fix her blanket (after "fixing" it 4 times already). She likes to have her arms and her feet covered, but when she moves, she becomes uncovered. Apparently only I can solve her blanket dilemma. And WHY she has to be covered by her blanket in the heat of the summer is a mystery to me. But I need to stop deciphering toddler logic.

But here's whats funny/awesome/embarrassing depending on your point of view: It has never occurred to Penny to climb out of her crib. Sometimes I wonder if she should be in a toddler bed, since she's a toddler now and all. But other times I'm thrilled that she doesn't (or can't, or won't) climb out and has to stay put, even when she has a bad dream. Is that awful? I figure, the big girl bed will happen eventually. For now, she's not getting out of bed every time her blanket needs "fixing" and I'm fine with that.

I don't know what to do about that baby giraffe, though. I'm just grateful it's not a giant spider.

One Sick Kid.

Is it a rite of passage to get puked on? Does it just come with the territory? Do all toddlers freak out and throw their heads back and nearly aspirate, or is that just my kid?

We had a rough weekend. Britt had been sick earlier in the week, and Penny must have caught whatever bowel-bomb he had. Thursday night, Penny had a hard time sleeping, and cried out several times. I went in her room to ask her what was wrong, but she calmed down each time. So by the 5th time, I asked Britt to take a turn. And that's when she threw up. All down Britt's back, all over the floor, all over the changing table, everywhere. And she screamed.

I guess you have to learn how to puke properly, which is something I had never considered, even after our ill-fated return from Vegas. Penny was so upset about throwing up and the mess, that she wouldn't bend over. She was completely stiff, upright, screaming. Finally, we got her to relax and kneel, so we could keep her head down. It was awful. I have never seen her that sick before. I felt myself struggling internally with so many feelings at once: shock and panic while trying to comfort and calm, standing in toddler puke. I held her and told her it was ok, to just let it all out. I tried to explain it all had to come out of her tummy and then she would feel better. But deep down I wanted to cry.


Dr. Penny checks the temperature of one hot potato,

Getting sick makes me cry. Seeing Penny in that much distress made me want to cry. But I knew I had to keep it together, to show her it was ok, that it wasn't scary or gross, or bad. I tried to think of what my parents used to do for me, whenever I was sick. They spoke gently, held me, and cleaned up after me. Eventually, Penny passed out in my arms, exhausted. She woke up a couple of hours later, and was markedly better. That was Friday. By Saturday, she was eating and running through the sprinklers, as good as new.


And administers medication as needed.

Then Sunday morning, she started throwing up again. This time, she couldn't even keep water down. Britt and I exchanged nervous glances and I got out the BOOK to read up on "when to call the doctor." We decided to try ice chips, to slow down her system and get her hydrated, and that worked. By then, she had curled up on the floor next to her potty chair (which we were using as a receptacle) and fell asleep, after saying, to herself, "I sorry, Penny." A couple of hours later, she was able to eat some jello. Then she slept some more, on a makeshift bed on the floor.

And now she's fine, as she can tell you herself:


I don't know what that was about, but I hope it doesn't happen again for a long time. And when it does happen again, as it surely will, I'll remember what to do: Remain calm, rally, clean it up. Everything will be ok. And maybe by next time, Penny's aim will have improved.

The Binky's Demise

Ding, dong, the binky's dead! Which old binky? The bedtime binky! We are 100% binky free!

Wow, if I had known life without the binky would be this easy, I would have banished it ages ago. But I think a month of talking about being a big girl (and reading the book I made for her) really helped Penny to prepare for the inevitable. Nights have been a piece of cake, although the afternoon nap has been more of a battle, which is exactly the opposite of how I thought it would go.

When I told Penny that the binky was gone, she was sad. She was beyond sad, she was visibly aggrieved. And I was sad too, I truly was, because the whole thing had been my fault to begin with. I'm the one who got her hooked on it in the first place, and I'm the one who didn't take it away sooner. I'm the one who had to devise a cunning plan to be rid of it, who compiled advice (solicited and otherwise) and gathered enough ideas to fill a tome, something I'll call "The Big Book of Binky Extraction."

But Penny's binky grief ended when she realized it was nap time, and thus decided to spend her energy negotiating for more play time. Ordinarily, she would have been won over by one satisfying binky, but now that my ace in the hole (pardon the expression) was gone, I was not prepared to deflect the relentless stalling techniques of my toddler. I had no idea she was so crafty! She pulls out all the stops when it's time to lie down, and it almost works, until I remember that I am actually still the boss around here. I hate those little spells of amnesia.

That first day was hard, I won't lie. There was screaming, 40 whole minutes of howling, "5 more minutes! 5 more minutes! Mama! Mama!" during which I went in her room (and stood at her doorway) several times to remind her that it was, in fact, nap time. I know she was mad because she didn't want to nap, but I think there was also some underlying anger about the binky's demise, anger she couldn't put into words ("You're a monster, mother!"). Furthermore, it is my observation that there is a relationship between the actual need for a nap and the resistance a child puts up, which is to say, the more Penny needs a nap, the harder she tries to convince me she doesn't need one.

The next day, there were 10 minutes of furious anger, followed by 1 minute of minor fussing on the third day. Meanwhile, night time has been considerably easier, in fact, I think she sleeps better without the binky at night, because she doesn't wake up and wonder where it's gone off to. And better yet, she doesn't wake me up to help her find it in the dark. The first night, instead of crying out for the binky, she woke to report, lucidly, that the cat was being "really silly," then she rolled over and went back to sleep. And she's slept all night since.



And now, Penny tells me, "Binky all gone. I a big girl now." It's her mantra. And it sort of makes me want to cry. Because if I had my druthers, she could keep the damn binky, if she would stay little forever.

Salad Days

February begins with me trying to decide how big the binky issue really is, since I seem to be the one who is bugged by it. Is it really that terrible? Not in the grand scheme of things. Show me a child who doesn't have an overbite. Am I naive to think that Penny will one day decide that the binky is not satisfying and be done with it forever? Probably. Should I be so uptight about something that brings her comfort? I have no idea.

Sometimes I fear it WILL be a big issue if I don't do something about it now. But I am all talk and no action, in case that wasn't already painfully clear. Something will have to happen to make me say, "That's it, no more binky," and that hasn't happened yet. My doctor gave me a deadline of age 2 to get rid of it, and I am the ultimate procrastinator.

Meanwhile, Penny's had yellow goo coming out of her nose for a week and I'm wondering about a possible sinus infection. The humidifier is in full swing, but a call to the doctor may be in order. The lovely doctor I don't want to disappoint in May when we go for Penny's 2 year check-up, after we've killed and buried Binky.

Here's a parenting news flash: I've discovered if Penny gets a snack before her nap, she sleeps longer and isn't famished when she wakes up. Eureka! Duh! Our "routine" seems to constantly evolve, depending on what time Penny wakes up (which is anywhere between 7-9 a.m., depending on the day). Oh, those 9:00 mornings are heavenly, but so rare. Usually the culprit on the early mornings is Britt, who has to get ready for work, and who can't help thundering around the house a bit in the process. He wears work boots and we have squeaky floors.


Penny did this, and then tried to feed them milk from her cup.

Still, I look at Penny and marvel at what she understands, and what she can do. I think back to where we were a year ago, and I remember teething, sleep training, separation anxiety, and my own anxiety, as a result of all of those things. These truly are salad days in comparison. And I've been a parent long enough now to know that the binky issue will be resolved at some point, because that's just how things work.

Rhymes with "Sock."

I came down with stomach flu this weekend, which left me weak and ill-humored. Blech. Britt came to the rescue and took care of everything while I stayed in bed, and Penny stopped in periodically to check on me, and patted me reassuringly on the head. She has learned the sign for sick, and says, "Sick," while jabbing me pointedly in the forehead.

Last night we all slept horribly. My stomach still hurt, and Penny woke up at least 3 times, crying out in the middle of the night. This morning, she had a yucky nose, so she's either cutting more teeth, or she has a cold. Today I felt a bit better, but I'm sorry to say that Penny's persistent demands tried my patience. The incessant, "Mommy? Mommy? MomMEE!" was a bit much. My fear is that we do such a good job entertaining her, for the most part, that she can't (or won't) play by herself, because that's not as fun. But there are times when I just can't do it, and that makes me feel crappier than the worst case of stomach flu.

Penny: "Ride?"
Me: "Mommy can't give you a ride, Mommy's sick."
Penny: "Sick." (Jabs me in the forehead).
Me: "That's right."
Penny: "Ride?"

Meanwhile, she's jumped from 2 word utterances to 3 word phrases, although she's probably only intelligible to us. "More biscuit, please," and "Wash your hands!" are music to my ears. But repeating everything you hear has a downside:

Penny's also been singing a song, a song which uses a word I'm not going to type here because I don't want this site to pop up that much on certain browser searches. Let's just say, the word is also the word for a rooster, and we have no idea why Penny is saying it so much. I blame Britt, because he's the one who's been going around the house singing about a "Cockney Geezer," in the spirit of "The Mighty Boosh," and I'm pretty sure that's where she got the idea for her new song. And he still sings his song, despite my "icks-nay on the ock-ney eezer-gay!" because frankly, that song is about a scary hitchhiker who stabs people, and toddlers don't need to hear that, no matter how humorously it is sung.


But Penny also just learned the "5 Little Ducks" song, so she could just be walking around quacking, and it just comes out...that way. "Quack, quack, quack, quack!"

'Tis the Season

Best. Christmas. Ever.

This year, I truly felt like Santa, and that was an incredible feeling. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when we were kids? Because this is pretty damn fun. When I was little, I remember lying in my bed, too excited to sleep, watching the numbers on the clock. In the morning, I would run past the living room, covering my eyes, trying my best not to peek at the presents Santa left out so I could see if my sisters were awake, so we could all be surprised together.

This Christmas Eve, I went to bed feeling tired but excited, much like I felt as a child, lying there, too wound up to sleep. When Penny woke up in the morning, she was surprised (and a little baffled) by what was waiting for her:


(Note: The toy box is a present from Santa to ME.)

Penny's too young to understand that Santa brings presents - right now, she knows he has a beard and looks a little like Opa, but he's otherwise a scary stranger. But next year, she might be ready for the whole Santa thing. And as fun as that is, I hope she won't be too disappointed later, once she is old enough to know the whole story. As an 8 year old, I remember feeling disillusioned when I discovered the truth. And disillusionment is a strong emotion.

Now that I'm a parent, I can understand why traditions are passed on. I want Penny to feel the same level of excitement I felt when I was little, waiting for morning to come, running to wake my sisters, so we could empty our stockings and read our notes from Santa, who always wrote something sweet, who seemed to know us so well. And I want the same for Penny, not just so I can relive those feelings from my childhood (which is nice and all), but so the creation of those magical moments can continue, for a little while.

All of the Santa stuff aside, this is the time of year when we can eat, drink, and be merry. Our family was all together, and Penny made out like a bandit. We were also able to catch up with some friends we haven't seen for a while, which is always a good thing.

I always feel sad when Christmas ends. It's a lot more fun to decorate the tree than it is to take it down. The Christmas hype begins in October, but ends promptly once the last present is unwrapped. Compared to the frivolity of December, January seems like "the New Cruelty," as a friend of ours just said today. But we'll leave the tree up a while longer, because that's another family tradition.

Confessions of a Binkyholic

This binky thing is getting out of hand. We had rules for it, but they have been bent so far I'm not sure they should even exist. Penny mournfully requests her "Dinky" anytime she is bored, frustrated, or insulted. If she trips and falls, she says, sadly, "Dinky?" And I say, "No, you don't need it right now," and then I do a tap dance to distract her. Ta-Da! Sometimes it actually works! And sometimes it FAILS. Sometimes she walks right over to the diaper bag and starts rummaging for it. Other times I honestly don't have it on me and she has to tough it out. If we are in the car, for example, I might have to sing "Row Your Boat" 100 times to keep her mind off of Dinky.

I know it is time to part ways with Dinky, but the thought of sleep training (again) exhausts me. I keep giving myself little deadlines. At 18 months, we'll sleep train without the binky. After Christmas, we'll lose the binky for good, etc. We have been so spoiled by a baby who falls asleep happily and quickly with her binky. I have thought about cutting the end off of it, but I'm afraid to see Penny's reaction. Will she feel utterly betrayed? Will I be the meanest mommy who ever lived? She will know it was I who mutilated Dinky. Maybe the Dinky will just have an unfortunate accident and disappear. :(

In the meantime, I have been trying to reestablish the rules, by which I mean RULE, because there is only one. Dinky only gets used for sleeping. If Penny is insistent, I sing her favorite songs or change the subject.

We had a stand off the other day. She wanted a piece of bread, but had her binky in her mouth (Note: she wasn't sleeping). I told her she could have it if she gave me the binky. She stood there with the binky in one hand (held away from me) and her other hand outstretched for the bread. We literally stared and shook our heads at each other for 5 minutes. Finally, she relented and I put Dinky away.

To complicate matters, she gets a binky at Grandma and Grandpa's, who feel it is ok for her to be attached to it and don't feel like fighting her. They really think it is a phase, and I agree. But, it is only going to get harder from here. The other day I saw a child at the store who looked to be at least 4 and SHE HAD A BINKY. I thought, "That could be Penny, it really could."

Today wasn't so bad. She didn't ask for it very much, and when she did, she said, "Dinky? Nap?" So I put her down for a nap and she was happy. But the day is coming, I know it is, and it will be hard for all of us.

On a cuter note, Penny plays a game we call "Penny's Discotech." She pushes the button on her musical stacking toy, picks up a dolly, and dances to the music.


Must. Videotape.

The 'Ween '09

This Halloween, in honor of life in the Beehive State, we dressed in bee-themed costumes. I found cute costumes online for myself and Penny, and Britt wore his coveralls with an actual beekeeper's hat and veil, which I bought from a local bee supply place. I consider it an investment, because who knows? Maybe someday we will have an apiary. It could happen!


Damn, those tights are cute.

I tried to get all Martha Stewart and do my hair in a beehive, but that didn't work, as my hair is not really long enough. But I DID make my own little bees out of yellow and black pipe cleaners (using white ones for the wings), which we attached to my costume and Britt's hat. Take THAT, Martha. Unfortunately, in the craziness that unfolded on Halloween, we neglected to get a picture of the three of us in our bee attire. Photo Op FAIL!


Ummm...hi.

We went to Penny's cousin's house, so they could trick-or-treat together:

(Penny's cousin, and her Uncle David, before the fun had even begun).

I mentioned before that Penny is easily frightened by things, things like pumpkins and elevators. She completely freaked at the sight of a pair of those Groucho Marx glasses, so I wasn't sure how she was going to handle seeing people in costume, coming right up to the door, shouting for candy. But once she got the concept of putting candy in other kids' buckets (fun!), and went to a couple of houses and got candy for HER bucket (REALLY fun!), things were a little less scary.


Our terribly frightening pumpkins.

A word about candy. Don't get me wrong, we love dessert around here, but candy is not really something we keep in the house as a general rule, because if we did, I would eat it all day long. I was naively hoping to keep Penny in the dark as far as the existence of candy is concerned (Have some delicious apple slices!). But my best made plans were laid to waste, because she would catch me or Britt sneaking some candy on the side, and would request it. And not wanting to be hypocrites, we would share with her, so now she's developed a taste for Reese's Pieces. When she got home, she meticulously took the candy out of her bucket and put it back in, over and over, all the while not realizing or caring that it was edible, which was a relief. And I have to say, most of her candy was crap. Come on, where's the good stuff? There were no Reese's Pieces in sight.

I just thought of a story I heard about my first Halloween as a baby. My parents were destitute college students, and I was 4 months old, so they taped a bunch of leaves to my pajamas and took me around their neighborhood, so they could get some candy. Isn't that desperately sad, and funny?


Suspiciously eyeing the dry ice, which was "Na Arie." (Not scary.)

The girls came back from their trip around the neighborhood, and then Britt and I made an undramatic exit so we could attend our grown-up party. Penny's Aunt and Uncle graciously offered to let Penny sleep over, so we wouldn't have to worry about driving back across town at a very late hour to wake her (and them) up. I wasn't sure I would be able to handle having Penny away from us all night, but she had a blast with her cousin. And we had a blast with our friends. When we picked Penny up in the morning, she had slept through the night, and had already eaten pancakes for breakfast. Her toenails were even painted bright red, so it must have been one exciting sleep-over.

That's Entertainment!

When babies are learning to speak, do they make sense to themselves? Penny talks and talks, but she speaks in a language I can't interpret. She has prosody and inflection, and seems to be stringing 4 nonsensical words together, with the occasional "Uh-oh," thrown in for good measure.

Penny: "Uh-oh, dohdogdohdoggoi Eesh."
Me: "Oh, yeah?"
Penny: "Dohdogdohgoi, doh-doi-doh. Eeeh. Uh-oh!"
Me: "Really? Please continue!"

I believe this is called variegated babbling, not reduplicated babbling, which she still does, as in: "Da-DA! Da-DA! Da-DA!" For the record, she only says "Mama" when she's sad, never as an inspired chant.

Penny's been trying to sing the alphabet, and "itsy-bitsy spider." She sings in monotone, but you can tell by the timing of her syllables (or hand motions) what she's getting at. She could hear either song 100 times and never tire of it. (I beg to differ). But singing is also a good way to calm her down, so I often bust out the "Elmo's World" theme while trimming her nails, combing her hair, and brushing her teeth, which are all activities she finds particularly aggravating and insulting.

She also enjoys scolding the cats, which I'm ashamed to report she learned from me, because I'm usually yelling at Chupa when she tries to escape out the front door, as in, "No, No, Chupa!" Now, when we pull into the driveway, Penny starts shouting "No, No, No!" Poor kitty, she will forever be scolded. I think Penny obtains a certain level of satisfaction from bossing someone around. Fortunately, Chupa has a sense of humor bordering on acerbic, and more or less puts up with it.

The other day, we were walking through a parking lot, and Penny could see her shadow on the ground in front of her. We started dancing and kicking up one leg at a time, which made our shadows move in a comical fashion, and she thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Although, I'm sure the sight of our "dancing" would have been amusing by itself. She imitated us by picking up one foot, then the other, laughing at her shadow. But then she tried to walk around it, and when she realized she couldn't, she became a little unnerved. Unhinged, actually.

The last entertaining observation of the week is that Penny is developing opinions about food instead of serenely accepting everything I put in front of her. Further, she has caught the vision of sleeping all night, 10-11 hours straight. So she's gone from being a good eater and a mediocre sleeper to being an ok eater and a great sleeper. For now. Of course, now that I have jinxed myself, something completely different will happen tomorrow.


(I'm cheating a little, because these pictures are from June and are pre-haircut).

Over and out.

Babies are Strange

Good morning, Starshine. The Earth says hello.

I know I shouldn't be surprised, but my baby is a little weird. Now that she can walk, she's figured out that she can crawl after all. And now that she can crawl and get into everything, she's decided that's a lot of fun, and now she doesn't have to go to bed, ever again.

She's also cutting more teeth, which doesn't help the sleep situation. So the past few nights, not wanting to be a total monster, I rocked her to a state of near sleep, which has worked in the past. But now, instead of falling asleep, she yells as soon as I stand up from the chair, and when I put her down, she rolls over, sits up, or stands and grips the bars of her crib, while scolding me in an angry baby language for being such a horrible mother.

One temporary solution was to hold her hand through the bars, while she drifted off to sleep. That way, I could get her to stay lying down. I felt this was a good compromise, because at least she was in her bed! But after 3 nights of sitting on the floor and holding her hand, it was taking exponentially longer for her to fall asleep, and when I tried to sneak away, she would clutch desperately at my hand and cry. Poor baby. And Poor Mommy! My heartstrings ache.

I'm realizing now how good the sleep has been, up until now. I'm hoping this is a phase, related to her new powers of mobility. Sigh. Last night, we restarted the sleep training, with regular intervals, which went something like this:

Me: Ok, it's time to go to sleep. (Lays Penny in bed).
Penny: Waaaah! (Rolls over, sits up).
(I leave the room, and return 5 minutes later).
Me: Honey, you need to go to sleep. Uh-oh, did you poop?!
(Pause to change diaper).
Me: Ok, seriously, it's time for bed. (Lays Penny in bed).
Penny: Waaah! (Rolling over, sitting up).
(I leave the room, and return 10 minutes later).
Me: Honey, I know you don't want to, but you really need to sleep. I will see you in the morning. (Lays Penny in bed).
Penny: Waaah! (Rubs eyes, sits up).
(I leave the room, and return 15 minutes later).
Me: I love you! Time to sleep! (Lays Penny in bed).
Penny: (Crying) I hate you! You're horrible!
(Repeat, ad infinitum).

And she screamed for an entire hour. An HOUR. There was a thunderstorm last night (and tonight), so her screaming was further punctuated by thunder and lightning. But tonight was much better. I thought we'd be in for at least 40 minutes of drama, but she gave up after 20. I have to give her credit. She's smart enough to know that it's more fun to stay up with us, and it's a lot more fun to walk around and explore, than to sleep alone in her room.

But I love the sound of her feet on the floor! And even though it's exhausting to try to keep up with her, she's really a lot of fun. Here she is, in action. She's gotten frighteningly faster since this video was taken.



Another amusing thing about Penny, is that she gets excited when she sees other babies. If she sees a baby at the store, she smiles, flaps her arms, and starts talking in this high-pitched voice. Most babies just stare at her, but she jabbers at them excitedly, as if to say, "HI! I LOVE YOU! YOU'RE SO GREAT!" She does the same to the neighborhood dogs and cats. And she greets our cats in her exuberant, high-pitched voice, every day. And then they're like, "SHIT! SHE CAN WALK?!"

Here's a not-so-amusing thing: Penny's into pinching (insert Penny-pinching joke here). I don't think she does it maliciously, but it is concerning. She pinches that tender, fatty place under my arms, or pinches my neck when she's feeling nervous or tired. It hurts! And it's not just me, she's been pinching Britt's mom as well. I'm trying to replace this behavior with patting, and she will pat me instead, when I remind her...Pat, pat, PINCH. I just don't want her to think that pinching is ok, but at the same time, if she finds it comforting for some reason, we need to find another way for her to feel calm.

Meanwhile, Penny had her one year check up a couple of weeks ago, and her doctor had me fill out a questionnaire about lead, and there were enough "yes" responses to indicate a possible risk. I am dreading the thought of a blood draw. Sheree, how bad was it? My doctor recommended going to the outpatient lab at Primary Children's, since they are the experts at sticking children with sharp needles. More on that to come, I guess.

In other news, Penny's head circumference is now within the 90th percentile. She has a giant melon! It's sure cute, though.

The Walker

Because nothing in the baby realm is without some degree of controversy, I have borrowed Penny's cousin's walker to inspire little P to use her body to get around. There are arguments against walkers, because they are dangerous (especially if you go stair surfing in one), and may actually delay walking. This is because some, like the one we are using, allow babies to sit and use different muscles in their legs, rather than the muscles used for walking.

But I say, pshaw. Penny thinks it's fun. My motto is, "Everything in moderation." When we're not using the walker, we are doing tummy time (which she still hates), our "exercises," standing (oh, how she loves to stand!), and cruising along things, like the couch. I think she really wants to walk. If only she had more balance!

Penny has also been sleeping through the night for a while now, which I attribute to the sheer exhaustion from moving so much when she's awake. I heart sleeping through the night. I never thought it would happen. These babies, they really like to keep you guessing.

Sleep to Dream

Oh Penny, what are those dark circles under your eyes?

Get ready for a lengthy post detailing our current sleep saga.
I wish I could say that the sleep situation has improved around here. It has not. I have actually been collecting data to determine if there is a consistent pattern of waking and the only thing I have discovered is that we get "good" sleep (e.g. at least 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep) every other night. I'm not sure why we can't have more than one good night in a row. I have tried to account for all of the variables: the number of naps during the day, the room temperature, the sleep sack, the routine, the "time of bed." I have tried baby tylenol, baby motrin, baby orajel, and some homeopathic teething tablets. Sometimes these things appear to work and sometimes they don't. And I don't care for the idea of drugging my baby if it isn't necessary and if it isn't going to work anyway.


Penny: My tooth is pointy. Want to feel it?

We are still waiting for the second tooth to pop through. I can see where Penny's gum is all swollen, so I assume it is bugging her. She seems fine during the day, although she has gotten a bit crabbier in recent days. The night brings out the demon child.

I have completely flip-flopped on the "crying it out" thing, because most nights I can't bear the crying. My instincts tell me to go in and comfort her, and ignoring her while she sobs goes against my instincts. Not to mention, she has THROWN UP TWICE after crying longer than 10 minutes. I know, I know. I'm totally being played. I'm annoyed about being manipulated by an almost 9 month old. But each night, when she wakes up crying, I can't help but think: "What if she's really in pain? She needs me!"


Penny: Mmm, teether.

Meanwhile, I've been asking other people for advice and have discovered that there are strong feelings on both sides of the crying issue. Of course! Because nothing is simple! At work the other day, I was eating lunch with a couple of women and I asked them what their philosophies were. On my right was a staunch proponent of crying it out. On my left was a staunch proponent of the family bed. Here's how our conversation went:

Right: You aren't hurting her. Crying is how she will learn to go to sleep on her own.
Left: If she cries and you don't comfort her, you are breaking her trust.
Me: .... (eyes bugging out of head)
Right: You need to sleep too. Your health is at stake as well as hers.
Left: She can learn to sleep without having to cry. She needs to be close to you right now.
Me: ... (silent scream)

So here's what I've been doing. When she cries in the middle of the night, she usually goes back to sleep after a little nursing and a little rocking. The practical side of my brain tells me that she doesn't really need to eat in the middle of the night and I am preventing her from learning how to fall back to sleep on her own. But the squishy maternal part of my brain tells me that I'm still bonding with her, that it's my job to comfort her, and (since I'm paranoid about my milk supply,) that feeding her once at night is good for my supply.


Penny: My Little Pony Hair? Also good.

A couple of weeks ago, I completely caved and let her sleep in our bed with us, starting around 1AM. At 6, I woke up, moved too quickly, and tweaked my back as a result of sleeping on one side, curled around my baby for 5 hours. A visit to the doc and a couple of X-rays later, I found out I have an anomaly in my spine. Something that looks to be *ahem* an extra vertebra *ahem* I didn't know I had. So now I have a minor back injury. And the family bed is RIGHT OUT. At least, at night it's out.

Here's what happened the other night:
Penny woke up crying at 2AM. I waited a few minutes to see if she would fall back to sleep. She did not. I went in to feed her, and she fell asleep within 10 minutes. After that, every time I put her in her crib, she would scream. I would pick her back up and rock her, she would fall asleep, and then scream as soon as her back touched the crib. So after repeating this three times (and by now it was 3AM), I gave up and let her cry. She cried for 20 minutes, and then fell asleep. Then she woke up 2 hours later. Screaming! Actually, we both might have been screaming.

If there's one thing I've learned from what little of those SuperNanny911Shows I've seen, the worst possible thing I can do as a parent is to be inconsistent. And that's exactly what I'm doing! So I need to work on a game plan. I think we might have to go back to the sleep training once that other tooth rears its sharp little head. But it's going to be rough for all of us.


What are we going to do today, Penny? The same thing we do every day. Try to take over the world!

I know two babies who sleep for 12(!) consecutive hours. And these babies are teething too! They have caught the vision, so I know it is possible. I also wonder if things will get easier once Penny is better at moving around on her own. If she can get into positions that are more comfortable for her (as opposed to sleeping on her back all night), she might be able to sleep easier? ?? Her apparent lack of desire to move her body (other than sitting or reaching or dominating the world from her exersaucer) is the subject for another melodramatic post.

Advice? Anyone? She has a 9-month appointment coming up, so it might be time to talk to the doctor. And she's probably going to tell me I need to relax and that every baby is different. Great.

The Seventh Circle of Hell

The moment I clicked "publish post" on the rosy missive about our successful sleep training experience, the sleep train careened off the track and left us all suffering in its wake. THAT will teach me, eh?

Mostly I blame the tiny tooth that has poked through Penny's bottom gum. Also, I blame the chaotic revelry that was Xmas, which occurred over several days. We DID sort of give the "schedule" the boot in the name of glad tidings and good cheer.

What happened? Month 6 was so fun, with the all of the sleeping, and the new foods, and the jovial demeanor. Month 7, which is rapidly coming to a end, has had teething, separation anxiety, and sleep deprivation. On one hand, Penny's personality is really starting to show. She laughs heartily at dogs and other amusing creatures, refuses her binky on many occasions (which truthfully, I'm glad of), and gets downright mad if I take objects away from her (sharp, pointy objects, like forks). She also thinks I'm hysterical and the obviously the best person to be around. This I find flattering, to an extent. And I'm sure I will miss the cuddles, the nuzzles, the attachment. Soon she will be climbing on me, or struggling to be put down, and I'll be chasing her around. But the screaming I can do without. I can't leave the room. I can't hand her to Britt after she's thrown up on me (from crying so hard FOR me) and I need to change shirts. She only has eyes for me.

Meanwhile, the sleep BOOK says not to sleep train while babies are teething. So the other night, instead of doing the intervals, I picked Penny up every time she started crying and rocked her back to sleep. She woke up EVERY HOUR until I gave up and let her sleep with us. Hmm. How long does it take for a baby to get all of her teeth? We only need one more tooth to have actual GNASHING of TEETH. You know, to go with the wailing. So I have been trying to make sure any pain Penny might be in is addressed and continuing with business as usual. Because we all need to sleep. I feel like we're starting over, and I'm trying not to get frustrated. I still have moments where I worry I will scar her for life. Why do I sense this is a feeling that will never go away?

I know of other children who have figured out this sleep thing, so I am optimistic. I'm sure this is one of many phases. But I am conflicted. If I lived in a different culture, or a different time, my baby would be with me ALL the time. In my bed, on my back, at my breast. But I live here, in this time. I am an independent woman who is balancing motherhood with a career, and I do want to maintain some semblance of our old life. Is this selfish?


Sometimes I am tempted to scrap the sleep training altogether and just let her sleep in our bed for a while. It is really tempting. But ultimately, it's not what I want, or what Britt wants. Maybe someday soon she will look around and say, "Hey! This is a pretty cool room, and I have a sweet bed. I know I'll see mom and dad in the morning, so I'm just gonna get some shut-eye." Sigh. Hang in there, baby. We're all in this together.

Adventures in Sleep

Our sleeping adventures really began when Penny was 4 months old. We decided it was time for us to reclaim our room and for her to sleep in her own room, the room we slaved over in preparation for her arrival, the room which absolutely had to be in order before I gave birth or ELSE. Well, she was 4 months old and hadn't spent a single night in there. Granted, her crib is exactly 12 steps away from my side of the bed, in the adjacent room, but it was still a rather big change for us.

And it wasn't as simple as lying her down in her crib and saying good night. She liked to be rocked. And fed. And swaddled. All at the same time. So during month four, we transitioned to her room, but month five (October) consisted of SLEEP TRAINING.

You would think that such a little person who used to sleep most of the day would know how to go to sleep. You would think that anyone related to me would embrace their sloth-like tendencies and look at sleep as a hobby, not just a necessity. But it was more complicated than that. And I'm sure there are more complications ahead, I'm just blissfully ignorant of them right now.



As far as I knew, we had two choices: Cry It Out, or Minimize The Crying As Much As Possible To Avoid Scarring Her For Life. Crying It Out sounded barbaric and inhumane. So I looked into "The No Cry Sleep Solution." Then I realized I'm a little lacking in the patience department. This realization came to me as I hurriedly skipped through the first 4 chapters before finally getting to the actual "solution." "Come on, just tell me what to do DAMMIT! I need help NOW!" Not for the inherently impatient. I was responding to crying at midnight, 2 a.m., 3 a.m., 4 a.m., etc. I was getting up A LOT and stumbling 12 steps to the crib to reinsert the binky, or feed, or plead for mercy.

I'm sure the No Cry Sleep Solution works wonders for many families, and I'm glad I looked into it, but it wasn't for us. After talking with my boss, who happens to be a psychologist (who assured me that I wasn't going to permanently damage my baby), we decided to try a kinder, gentler, Cry It Out method, based loosely on "The Sleep Easy Solution."

The first step was helping her learn that she could sleep unswaddled. The swaddling was fantastic for 4 months, but by this time, she was a little Houdini, who was getting out of her Swaddler every hour and yelling out with her limbs stuck up by her ears. I would get up, reswaddle her, and she would eventually go back to sleep.

The next step should probably be to get rid of the binky, so she can learn to fall sleep without it. However, I was worried that losing the Swaddler (in combination with going back to work part time at that point) would be too much for her. So she still has her binky. That will be another bridge, I'm sure.

I also stopped letting her nurse herself to sleep. I still fed her before bed, and then put her in her crib while she was sleepy, but not totally zonked. Then came the hard part. The crying. It. Was. Awful. I felt horrible and thought multiple times that I was The. Worst. Mother. Ever. Friends texted me with reassuring messages, which I really appreciated. I played soothing music, which was more for me than for Penny. The first night she cried for 45 minutes before finally falling asleep. But the kinder-gentler approach was to go in at 5 minutes, 10 minutes, and then every 15 minutes until she fell asleep. My personal version of this strategy included briefly talking to her, patting her, and then leaving. Sometimes I had to help reinsert her binky. But at least she knew she wasn't totally abandoned. (She might have seen it as a huge tease, though). The next night, we endured 30 minutes of crying. Then 20 minutes for a couple of nights, then 5 minutes. Now she goes to sleep when she is put in her crib. It's amazing and I can't believe it.

And she still wants to be my friend! She smiles at me in the morning, and laughs at me, and cuddles with me. And we even take naps together sometimes, in our bed. I think this is a nice compromise. You veteran parents may be thinking I'm in for a heap of trouble with the co-napping in the big bed. But for now, she naps for me, and for her grandma and grandpa, and she gets a lot of sleep. And so do we.



So the going to sleep is fantastic. The STAYING asleep still needs a little work depending on the night, but it's getting better all the time. I can tell because I'm actually dreaming again.