I Give Until It Hurts; It's My Cross to Bear

An old friend, who I just recently discovered is a faithful reader of this here humble blog, and who probably thought he could trust me, posted a tongue-in-cheek request for advice on my Facebook page. He’s father to two of the most adorable little people in the Midwest, which means he’s being manipulated on an hourly basis and is sinking fast under the onslaught of cute. Since I’m always looking for things to write about that take no effort on my part, I thought I’d exploit him here. Besides, he needs my help, and why am I here, if not to bring solace to those in need?

He writes:

Dear Leida (Abby),

I am the father of a child that likes to get up at five every morning for "dad payers". He will go back to sleep but then oversleeps and makes us both late. LOL... As I said, I'm exploiting him, so I choose to take this as a request for advice. You are welcome.

Dear, “P’ayers”:

Ah, yes...the pre-dawn “dad payer” sneak attack. I know it well. And I know you, too.

This little cupie doll has you wrapped around his finger, what with all the eyelashes, and bed head, and cuddles, and “p'aying.” He knows your weak spots and it looks like prayer is one of them. I can relate—my kid knows the only time I will let him play with my phone if he asks to use the Bible app on there. *shrug* #faithfulparenting. Your son knows you haven’t awakened to natural light since he figured out how to pole vault out of his crib. By the time sunlight shines through your windows, your little negotiator has worn you down with a list of inane demands, until he finally lands on one that will win you over.  You run 15 to 30 minutes behind schedule every morning because, after you finally give in and let him stay in your bed, you fall deeply asleep 20 minutes before your alarm is set to go off and sleep through the damned thing, every.single.day. And we all know there is no more satisfying slumber than that of the vanquished. It’s Stockholm Syndrome, for sure, but who cares when it feels so good?

Let’s keep it real. On your own, you don't stand a chance against him, and I can bet your wife is as susceptible to him as you are, so she’s no help. But take heart, I’m here. I’ve developed a tough, outer shell to these tactics and I’m not currently within smelling distance of your child (they smell delicious when they’re all sleep-warm, don’t they?) Ahem, anyway, I’m impervious to his charm. I might be your only hope. Follow these three, tried-and-true tips and you’ll see your way to waking up when your alarm actually goes off in the morning, again. Maybe you’ll even make it to the office in time to get a seat at the conference table for staff meeting, instead of skulking in and sitting in the back corner of the room with the Starbucks you just had to stop for. Crazier things have happened.

Anyway, here’s what I suggest. Medical disclaimer: none of this will work.

1. Kick him out of your bed. It’s not time to wake up, and he needs to respect that.

Why won’t this work? He can’t tell time. He’s been asleep for 9 hours already and is too young (read: selfish) to care that you haven’t. He’s rested; therefore it’s time to party! He also has cunning. Much like a snooze timer, he will let you nod off for 4 ½ minutes, then shock you awake with requests to go pee in the potty, to sit in his high chair and have cereal (that he won’t eat), and the holy grail, a yelp of pain that catapults you out of bed and to his side, where you discover he was actually making that noise to simulate pain in one of his stuffed animals that he was hitting in the head with a train car. This pattern he will repeat until you accept defeat and get up to join him in his pre-dawn shenanigans.

2. Give him what he wants, the first time he asks. Maybe that’ll placate him so you can go back to sleep.

Why won’t this work? You give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. If he can get milk at 5 am on the first try, his pre-frontal cortex will cattle prod the little hamster in there on its wheel (I’m sure that’s how and where decisions are made—do not doubt me), making him wonder, “what else can I get out of this guy right now?” It’s a slippery slope from there. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up giving him your room, where he will relax, in your bed with your wife, eating dry cereal on your pillow, and watching Super Why on your iPad. Meanwhile, you’ll be down the hall, trying to steal a precious few more minutes of sleep in the toddler bed in the nursery.

3. Pull him into bed with you and commence to “p’aying,” in hopes that he’ll fall asleep once you’re done, so you can sleep for another hour.

Why won’t this work? Frankly, you’ve got me stumped. From your letter, it seems you’ve had a degree of success with this tactic, if you can call being late for all the things every day, success. Some of us have not been so lucky. We’ve tried this, only to have our kids wiggle, squirm, and punch in the circle of our arms, turning what was supposed to be a sweet, Gerber-style hour of spooned sleep into torture. It’s not until we can open our eyes all the way and our sensory receptors start to register pain (by 11 am, typically) that we notice the bruises and scratches they’ve left behind. And for our stripes, did we get any more sleep? No, we did not. SO not worth it, IMO...

What’s this all about? What is it they want, you ask? I'm only speculating, but my guess is your bed or your soul. *shrug* Who knows? But there is a bright side! Accept that there’s no way you can win. He gets what he wants and an opportunity for a 2 hour nap after lunch, and you get an excuse to drink in the afternoon.

Cheers!

Daddy Day Care

I’m a mom who works full-time away from home. I’m grateful for my work—I’ve got great benefits, a degree of flexibility and supportive work environment that allows me to respond to family emergencies, a place to interact with other adults on a regular basis and it (mostly) helps me to afford childcare when I can’t be with my son. In my mind, childcare is both a blessing and a curse. It’s so expensive that I know several parents who decided one of them would stay home with the kids because taking a job, simply to afford to pay someone to watch their kid(s) while they worked, didn’t make sense. In our case, neither of us loves that our boy is in the care of others multiple days a week, but it’s a necessary evil. As parents, we both need to work. I work for the benefits and intellectual stimulation and he, because he was born to make music. Were he not teaching young aspirants to play guitar, writing, engineering and performing, he’d shrivel up and float away on a breeze—and not in a good way. Knowing that makes it that much more remarkable that to keep down costs and to have as much face-time with Miles as possible, he’s sacrificed two weekdays of his more-flexible work schedule to care for our son since I went back to work when the baby was 3 months old. And since that first day, back in August of 2011, many hijinks have ensued.


Let me paint you a picture of life on Daddy’s watch:

-Pants are optional, socks encouraged to ward off cold floors. Comfort is the word of the day.

-No loop is ever completely closed. At the end of the day, my apartment usually looks like they were interrupted in the middle of many tasks and asked to vacate the premises, immediately. Or, to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe they were body-snatched by aliens for a father/son mind probe experiment and hadn't yet been returned by their captors. But he takes out the trash and recycling, no matter what.

-Messes are tolerated, vomit is forbidden. If I’m home, clean up is my job. If I'm not home, I will still get a call for moral support (which is usually an unspoken request to come home, asap). On the flip side, he will stand by and supportively apologize that Miles has spewed his lunch all over me and will verify that yes, this is truly gross and awful. Then, while I tend to the kid, he will spray any affected surface with cleaning enzymes (while swearing and gagging). High comedy. He's much better at poop than I am, though, and is way more respectful of (and patient with) wiener time on the changing table. Fair trade, I'd say.

-Drinks abound. The kid will never go thirsty on his watch. He plies him with a steady stream of liquids the whole day, whether he’s asking for them or not. Maybe he died in a drought in a former life, I don’t know.

-Mama gets all the kisses. He's not totally sold on the idea that it's okay to get kissed on the mouth by his son, but he's always a bit jealous that the buddy kisses me so freely, while considering it a game to avoid giving or receiving them from him.

-No choking. Our boy eats in big mouthfuls and makes gagging faces when he’s bitten off more than he can chew, which drives Daddy crazy. He regularly requests that we brush up on our infant/toddler Heimlich maneuver skills. Heaven forbid, but if it should ever become necessary to use it, I’m not sure if I’d put my money on him doing a bang-up job and saving the day or passing out, cold. We’ll pray that I never get that question answered.

-Sitters must be qualified. When considering outside child care, his concerns have nothing to do with early childhood certification. He wants to know if they remember to take the buddy's shoes and jeans off for nap time. It makes sense, I guess. One should be comfy while sleeping.

-No “babying.” When the boy is trying a new skill, he doesn't hover or help, like it's my tendency to do. He stands by and encourages him to keep trying. The kid always rises to the occasion.

-Good food is king. He won’t cook if he can avoid it, especially for a picky and ungrateful toddler who will reject it anyway. Also, he rarely keeps to any kind of eating schedule for himself, let alone the kid, but he has tasted every food he's ever given him, including baby food, because he wants to know what is good and why the kid likes it. He always offers a veggie, cares that the water is clean with good minerals and will go to three stores to buy organic. I do not have the patience (or stomach) to do this.

-No energy will be spent unnecessarily. He'll take a bath with Miles, forsaking any chance of peace and relaxation and risking unauthorized peeing, to save time and effort. He also still encourages two naps a day, though Miles can go with just one.

-Stop and smell the flowers. He values a meandering walk in the sunshine, daily roughhousing, and would rather hunker down on the floor making cool car sounds than to plop the kid in front of the TV (not that this doesn't happen in an emergency).

-Material things aren’t what matters. Miles plays with and climbs all over his expensive music equipment, because he wants him to learn how to use the real stuff. So I have a one year old who knows his way around a guitar, a drum kit, a Bluetooth speaker and more. I don't know how to work any of these things.

-Certain details are important—others aren’t. He won't notice if the outfit he puts on the buddy no longer fits, especially if it is one he loves. However, my taste will be challenged if the outfit I choose isn't up to his standard of cool. *sigh* There is no justice.

The daily drudgery of caring for a toddler isn’t his #1 choice of how to spend a day, but he does it like he does everything else—to the beat of his own drum, getting all the joy from the experience that he can. I’m sure he will breathe a sigh of relief when it’s no longer necessary, but secretly miss the good times. When it’s my shift, I often do things differently, but Miles never lacks anything important either way. In fact, he thrives. And let's face it, pants-optional isn’t a bad way to live.