I am hereby convinced that I am some sort of bad sleeper lightning rod. I am filled with bad sleeper mojo and turn every child in my presence into some kind of raging insomniac.
When we accept weekend visits with friends and family, their little angels don’t sleep and the whole time the parents sweeeear that normally they’re not like this, no really they never are, why they’re just angels, angels sent from heaven–angels sent from heaven who sleep on command and we can’t imagine whatever could be the matter!
But there’s no need to explain. I know the truth.
So I shouldn’t be surprised that I’ve gone and done it to my own kid. Oh sure Sage resisted for two years, tricking us into thinking she was a great sleeper from day one. But now, just as her older sister decides to start sleeping in her own bed consistently for the first time (oh joy!) in close to four years, Sage has decided that nope, not happening. Not interested. Not now, not ever. Haha, fooled you Mommy. Fooled you Daddy.
We put her in her crib and then she wails and hollers and shrieks and sobs just loudly enough that should we be in, oh say…CAIRO at the time, we would hear her loud and clear. She wails and hollers and shrieks and sobs until her sister says YOU’RE WAKING ME UP SAGE. Because, see, they’re in the same room. That’s what happens in New York. Sharing rooms and tired parents.
This is the point that I finally give in and retrieve Sage from her Ragazzi prison, justifying that one sleeping child is better than no sleeping children. And then, in some sort of odd twist, Sage decides that now, perhaps she is interested in sleeping after all. It’s just that she can only sleep with me.
(So it would seem that the magic sleeping repellent that I somehow possess becomes inactive at closer range.)
I am constantly amused that I get a steady stream of emails from new parents who have stumbled upon one of my earlier agonized, tortured blog posts in search of tips about sleep-training. Not because they are writing to commiserate but because they are searching for advice.
Haven’t you seen the tagline up there, the one under the little winking woman that has been coopted by some cafe press site? Yeah, that one about not knowing what I’m doing?
My sleep-training advice is this: Don’t ask me for sleep-training advice.