The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Oh, the joys of being pregnant with your first child: midnight ice cream runs and baby showers, parenting books and pregnancy journals.  And oh, the first night home from the hospital: sleep-deprived panic.  Too often, I dismissed advice from veteran moms with a polite, naive nod.  Two kids later, and with a third on the way, I think I’ve learned my lesson.  Now that this Bugaboo’s been around the block a few times, I plan to get it right when baby #3 arrives.

1. I will sleep when the baby sleeps.  I seriously scoffed at this adage because I like to “get things done.”  I once tried to do my income taxes during nap times; I do not recommend that strategy.  Of course, with two older children, I’ll have school schedules to consider.  But if you are a first time mom, I implore you: rest!
2. I will ask for help.  So lucky I have been to receive offers from friends and family to lend a hand; and how gracious I have been to say, “That is so nice of you!” and never take anyone up on it.  My husband went back to work a few days after my second child was born, and I had an 18-month old to care for at the same time.  Not asking for help was a big mistake!
3. I will go outside at least once a day.  My best baby days started with a solo walk to the coffee shop to clear my head.
4. I will breastfeed, but this kid is getting a pacifier ASAP.  I once walked a mile down the Embarcadero hunched over a stroller.  I was trying to calm a screaming child by putting my pinky in his mouth (this was the sage advice I had read in a parenting book).  If breastfeeding is going well for you, don’t feel you have to adhere to the 3-week rule.  Which leads to #5:
5. I will wing it once in a while.  I EXCLUSIVELY breastfed my first child.  Seeing how exhausted I was after my second son was born, my friend Erin suggested that I sub in a bottle of formula here and there.  Guess what?  I got a few more hours of sleep and he survived!
6. I will challenge my crazed hormones to a dance-off.  Picture a madwoman pacing the floor at dusk with a crying infant in a sling and a toddler on the brink of a tantrum.  When the witching hour arrives for me, doing something wacky, like having an impromptu dance party, breaks the monotony.
7. I will put on the television.  There, I said it.  My kids can watch T.V. sometimes and I will no longer judge myself.  I’m not suggesting you get an infant hooked on Days of Our Lives, but don’t feel like you should be teaching one kid sign language, while teaching the older sibling chess strategy on 2 hours sleep.  The first time our neighbors invited us to have a glass of wine while the kids watched a Disney movie, I nearly wrote them into my will.
8. I will not attempt to go to a restaurant/family reunion/long car trip/or God-forbid an airplane for as long as I deem fit.  I have no illusions now that I won’t have to change my lifestyle when an infant comes along.  So I am sorry to report that I will not be attending your destination wedding in Puerto Rico two weeks after my due date.
9. I will be more social, on my terms.  Nothing makes you feel more isolated after having a baby than completely isolating yourself.  The thought of entertaining a crowd is daunting, so I’ll keep a few cheesecakes on hand in the freezer – Golden Girls style – and invite a friend to stop by.  Or, I’ll call an east coast confidante and eat the entire cheesecake myself. (Hey, I’ll be breastfeeding!)
10. I will be more present and positive.  I can’t wait to see the joy of embracing a new sibling through my children’s eyes.  I’ll even get in front of the camera this time, to fully document our growing family in its most precious, fleeting moments.

Is there any advice you wish you’d taken in the first few months of becoming a parent?

So, if the purpose of a blog is to serve as a personal journal, or sort of online diary – then it should always be authentic, right?

If that’s the case, then today’s post should go a little something like this:

I’m exhausted. The end.

However, I don’t think I’d draw much readership from such a brief entry, despite how true it may be.  So, for the benefit of those reading, along with the joy of looking back on my own experiences someday – I’ll elaborate.

DJ, my precious and lovely 2 1/2 year old, went through another weekend-long nap strike.  If you’re keeping track, I’m now just over 36 weeks pregnant.  This is an important fact because it 1) explains my level of fatigue, and 2) explains my hormonal craze.

As most of you already know, sleep with DJ (or lack thereof, really) has been the bane of my existence since oh, say, September of 2009 – yep, when she was born.  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t accepted that sleep isn’t her strong suit, because I have.  I’ve totally made peace with the fact that I haven’t slept more than four consecutive hours for over two years now.  And, I’ve even made peace with the reality that I might not ever again.  However, on days when I’m feeling really confident that we’ve finally landed in a groove, and the needle comes obnoxiously screeching off the track – I’ve been known to lose it.

Let’s take Saturday for example.

I woke up tired, which is pretty reasonable considering that was at 2:00am.  I couldn’t fall back to sleep, so was up and out of bed around 4:30am.  I did some writing, posted a recipe on my personal blog, cleaned the house and thought about what to make for breakfast once the troops awoke.

Needless to say, starting your morning in the middle of the night makes for a really long day.  So, by the time nap time rolled around, I was THRILLED.  No, honestly, I was giddy at the thought of crawling into bed, enjoying some silence and reclaiming some lost hours.  DJ, however, had plans of her own – which, for some reason, revolved around torturing me.  As usual.

Since my first trimester with this second pregnancy, I have taken to napping when DJ naps.  This has morphed into us napping together in “mommy daddy bed,” as she calls our king-sized oasis of cottony duvet goodness.  While we go down for our nap at the same time everyday, there’s just no telling how long it will take my little monkey to fall asleep.  Unfortunately, I’m a terrible sleeper, too – which really means that unless all of the stars are aligned perfectly, I’m left counting sheep, pigs, goats, horses, Benadryl left in my arsenal, or anything else that pops into mind.  In other words, I can’t fall asleep till she does and all in the house is settled and quiet.

So Saturday….we laid down at our usual 12:30 siesta time.  Since her daddy was home from work, DJ requested that he lay down with us.  While I was charmed by her sweetness (nothing warms my heart more than her loving on her daddy) and the intoxicating thought of cozy family time, the hair on the back of my neck stood up a little.

The hubs snores.  I can’t even sleep through a cat fart, let alone his snoring.  He has a C-PAP machine, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t consider strapping it on for a nap.  I also want to point out that he never ever agrees to napping because he hates how groggy he feels upon waking from them – so to have him commit to this “family nap” meant he was exhausted too.  Exhausted = extra loud snoring in my husband’s case.  I felt my blood pressure rising, but I didn’t say a word.

He fell asleep immediately, which makes me jealous and tempted to throw darts at him.  But, it’s not just him – I want to shoot a pellet gun at anyone who can sleep anywhere, any time.  It’s infuriating to me….the one who can’t even sleep on sleeping pills – but that’s sounding like a separate blog post altogether.  Anyhow, back to Saturday and the Snorasaurus Rex….so, hubs is off in dreamland and DJ is in between us making up songs.  It’s an awful symphony of chainsaws chasing the lyrics “butterfly, go away” on repeat.  SOMEONE CHANGE THE TRACK.

I’m laying there, and I’m getting more and more pissed.  I figure I’ll leave the duet behind and take up residency on the couch – except that when I leave the bedroom, DJ flips out and her yells are like a percussion hammer to hubs’ patellar tendon and he barks out “DJ, go to sleep!” Which, of course, escalates her distress and lulls him right back to sleep.  He always has my back, the sweetie pie.

So, I pee and then climb back into the oasis-turned-torture-chamber and try to Zen my way out of my I’ll-never-freakin-sleep-again funk.  DJ grabs onto my hair, which is how she soothes herself when she’s super sleepy.  I actually find it almost as annoying as I find people who can sleep, but I hang in there because it usually signals that she’s on the verge of a deep slumber.  I lay there, hair being twirled, while my husband’s primal purrs ring out. Love him!

I am feeling my level of stress rapidly increasing.  DJ is now fingering my outgrown bangs, which means she’s intermittently touching my face.  I hate having my face touched.  I roll over, facing the wall rather than my delightfully annoying child.  I give her full reign to the back of my mane, but no, she demands more.  “I WANT TO GO IN YOUR ARMS, MOMMY!” she wales.  Another blow to the patellar tendon, and my husband roars “You want a timeout?” Oh Lord, yes, yes, I do!!! Put me in solitary confinement, PLEASE.  Oh wait, he’s talking to DJ.  Ugh.  She cries harder, he snores louder.  My pulse is racing.

I turn to face her again, certain that she’s seconds away from falling asleep.  I can tolerate a few more bang twirls.  I can.  I can.  At least I think I can.  And then, I scream “DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR! NO MORE TOUCHING MY HAIR.  IF YOU TOUCH MY HAIR ONE MORE TIME, I WILL SCREAM!”

There’s something magical about screaming out threats of screaming.  Oh, sweet release.

I almost didn’t recognize the deep, gravely voice emerging from the depths of my sleep-deprived soul – but yeah, considering the look on my daughter’s face, I was left to believe that it did indeed come from me.  We both sat for a second, the snoring in the background our suspense-laden soundtrack, looking at one another in shock.  Finally, DJ breaks the ice – fearlessly, matter-of-factly, and sans tears.

“I no want to sleep mommy.  I ready to get up.” And just like that, after more than an hour of hoping, really, really hoping that we could all just get some flippin’ sleep – I (super dramatically) threw the blankets off myself, rolled my nearly immoveable body off the king-sized piece of crap and huffed daggers at my husband.  He sat straight up, a bit confused at what was happening.  I moaned “I give up.” I seriously couldn’t believe that I hadn’t frightened the energy right out of my toddler, thereby launching her into a sleep coma.  Had I lost my touch?

Within minutes, everyone was outta bed, because when Momma’s not happy – ain’t nobody happy.

I’m exhausted.  The end.

There’s a new Sheriff in town, and it sure ain’t mommy!  (Well, at least not that DJ knows of).  I’d like to introduce you to the “Nigh Nigh Princess,” who is changing my life one night at a time.

As you know from several of my posts, sleep has not been one of DJ’s strong suits…ever.  From the time she was a newborn up until about a week ago – she had never slept through the night, never more than 5 hours at a time.  As you can imagine, after two years of interrupted sleep, and hideous bags under my much-too-young eyes (I’m only 33!) – I decided that something had to give.  And, since I didn’t feel right about locking her in the garage with the dogs…..I invented the Sleep Fairy.

OK, so maybe I didn’t invent this concept – but for all intents and purposes, this was a brand new concept for our household.  I had heard a million different versions of “Fairy” stories – using a charming, winged and magical creature to bribe children with gifts of some sort.  I decided that if bribery worked for potty training, I certainly wasn’t above trying it for sleep.  (The truth is that I would’ve tried almost anything to get a full night of sleep!).

Anyhow, our Sleep Fairy began her mission at Diddam’s.  She filled her basket with $30.00 worth of random toys from those overwhelming bins of crap.   She picked out bracelets, rings, pens, rubber balls, mini flashlights and a Tinkerbell Pez dispenser (which, FYI, was a really bad idea).  I thought that the key to keeping things interesting, exciting – and most of all, engaging, would be a wide variety of “awards.”  Uh, I mean, she thought……

Once the Sleep Fairy was well equipped with currency that DJ would appreciate, I sat her down to explain the process.  “You’re a really big girl now.  I want you to sleep all night. If you sleep all night, the Sleep Fairy will leave an award under your pillow in the morning.  Doesn’t that sound wonderful?  Of course it does.  Now, SLEEP CHILD before your mother goes insane.”

I also bought a book called “It’s Time to Sleep in Your Own Bed.”  While DJ has been “sleeping” in her bed for quite some time now, I liked the gentle message of this book – separating from the comfort of mommy and daddy, being a big kid and staying in your own bed even when you really want to cry out, only to receive an award in the morning.  The message coupled nicely with the Sleep Fairy’s mission.

Our first night was an utter disaster – that gentle message I was just talking about….yeah, somehow DJ’s impressionable mind translated the story to read “Mommy run away.”  She was traumatized, and wailed incessantly, repeating over and over “Mommy run away!”  “Mommy go away!” “No leave!”  It was heart-breaking.  Of course, I stayed with her throughout her very restless sleep.  OK, first night – fail.

I had determined that I would return the book the next day.  I was going to demand a refund, along with additional monies for damages – except, I never got around to it.  Much to my surprise, the next night, DJ specifically requested the same story.  Reluctantly, I obliged – and much to my delight, she focused on the “award” part of the story.  I took the opportunity to once again explain the Sleep Fairy and DJ seemed pretty receptive, and excited!

The next morning, I woke up in a panic around 6:00 am.  Oh my gosh!  Wait, I hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night……Was DJ still breathing?  Had someone kidnapped her from her bed?  Had she sleep-walked right out of our house?  I grabbed the monitor and saw a quiet, but stirring child.  VICTORY!!!!!!  After several minutes, she began yelling for me.  “HEY MOMMY!”

When I walked into her room, she sat straight up and exclaimed, “Sleep all night!”  and then asked, “Award?”  I slipped into bed next to her, and seamlessly placed a toy under her pillow.  I suggested she check under that pillow, and she discovered a Hello Kitty pen.  She beamed with joy and said “the Nigh Nigh Princess!!!!”  Yes, the Nigh Nigh Princess……my new equivalent of a latte, or a Hershey’s bar, or even a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio – she was my saving grace.  My new best friend.

Since that night, the Nigh Nigh Princess has worked her magic.  For one week straight, I have slept through the night.  And while DJ’s new standard wake up time seems to have shifted an hour earlier than it was before (due to the sheer excitement of flipping over her pillow each morning) – I will gladly lose one hour each morning in exchange for gaining at least three each night.

If it weren’t for the unequivocal reality of pixie dust, I’d argue that I’m the real Nigh Nigh Princess in this house…..I feel like a new woman!

I bet this is going to come as a complete and total surprise to you, but we’re having sleep issues in our home…..again.  Of course I am being sarcastic, as anyone who has read even a handful of my blogs will know that I write about sleep (or lack thereof), almost constantly (in between subjects like poop, tantrums, and my crazy phobias).  I often feel really alone in this little corner of the parenting world because I seem to be surrounded by parents, and kids, who have this sleeping thing down pat.

We are fortunate to live in a wonderful neighborhood….like, the best ever.  There are kids everywhere – including right next door.  Our neighbors have two little girls, with a third on the way.  I often tap the mom’s brain for wise tidbits as we’re both unloading groceries, or watching our girls overturn rocks in the front yard looking for snails.  Our conversations are always so brief, but I have come to look forward to our short visits because they are always so real. I would guess that once you’ve got three kids under the same roof, you’re pretty much past sugar-coating, which I so appreciate.

A few days ago, we coincidentally met up at the end of our driveways.  We were talking about her pregnancy, and all of the home projects on their radar in preparation for baby.  She mentioned being tired, and went on to say that her three year old will no longer fall asleep unless she has someone laying beside her.  My eyes beamed with thoughts of, “So, you totally understand my world?”  I immediately felt a wave of self-forgiveness wash over my shoulders.  Just a second prior to her effortless admission, I had been beating myself up for “causing” the same behavior in DJ as of late.  My neighbor mentioned that their household has been playing musical beds…..their three year old sleeping in their bed, and her husband sleeping in the three year old’s bed.  Gosh, it sounded all too familiar.  I could hardly say “US TOO!” quickly enough.

While I am sure she didn’t understand why I felt so enthusiastic about their suffering, I know she felt compelled to conclude our conversation with, “Just when you think you have something right, they will wake up with new needs, new insecurities, new fears and new wants – and you’ll be right back to where you started.”  This was a mom with a lot of experience under her belt, and she was reassuring me that this is just how parenthood goes, especially toddlerhood.  Phew. I wasn’t alone.

Yesterday we took DJ to the Gilroy Gardens.  As we were standing in line, there was an insecure dad behind us (trust me, I can smell this all-too-familiar character).  He kept asking his toddler to behave, and kept apologizing for the kid’s erratic behavior.  I felt badly for him, because I know how it feels to worry that those around you will blame you for your kid’s inherently terrible behavior.  As in perfect timing, another child just a few places behind us in line, threw himself onto the cement in a full-blown, hysterical tantrum.  His mother, who also had an older child by her side, made no apologies and just went about her business – paying no attention to the fact that her child was rolling around the pavement in old gum and stale popcorn.  The apologetic dad took one relieved look at her and said, “So, I see we’re not alone.”  And just like that, blissful camaraderie filled the line wrapping around the carousel.

What I have learned about parenting these past 21 months is that the absolute greatest gift (to both give and receive) is the gift of safety in numbers.  The more people we can relate to, the easier this gig gets.  Feeling like we’re not the only one to be drudging through the trench-of-the-moment, gives us the confidence to keep on crawling.  As parents, let’s pledge to just keep being honest about the things happening under our own roofs.  You just never know who has been dying to shout, “US TOO!”

About a week ago, my son and I were cooking dinner together, chatting about the day.  We don’t often eat dinner together anymore, but when we do, it reminds me of the days when eating dinner together was always an important thing to do.

While we were spooning with spoons and flipping with flippers, he told me how he had talked to some of his friends and family about a story he partially remembered, from sometime back when he was much younger, and had asked them if they knew of the story or where it had come from.  Nobody knew.

He spoke of how it was a fond memory for him and that he remembered hearing it often.

When I asked him to tell me what he remembered, he said he remembered it had something to do with wild horses running and grabbing hold of one of them as they ran by.  When he paused, I immediately knew the story.  I knew it because I created it and I told it to the kids.  Almost every night when they were much, much younger.

He was excited that I knew of what he spoke about and wanted me to refresh his memory.

It was at that moment that I knew that I had done something right.  When I used to tell the kids bedtime stories, I always tried to come up with a ‘franchise’ story, the same way Hollywood looks for a blockbuster they can write sequels to so they keep paying off.  Likewise, I would search for that story the kids would want to hear again and again.  Something they might continue doing with their kids when they got older.

And so, it took a couple of decades, but I had confirmation that the franchise was alive.  Not many blockbusters in Hollywood have a life like that.  James Bond is the only one that comes to mind.  Not even Harry Potter can top it.

It wasn’t long.  It wasn’t much.  But it helped them go to sleep when they thought they couldn’t.  As I put my hand to the side of their face and gently brushed their silky hair back over their heads, I told the story in a soft voice.  And it went a little something like this…

“I want you to close your eyes and dream of large fields of grass with wild horses running across them.  The sun is warm and the wind is gently blowing through your hair.  The horses are beginning to run past you, all around you.  And as they do that,  you look for the most beautiful horse, the one that catches your eye.  And as it runs past you, I want you to grab hold of that horse and pull yourself up onto it and ride it.  Ride it as it takes you to anyplace you want to go tonight.  And when you wake up in the morning, I want you to tell me all about it.”

And they slept.  Goodnight kids.

It has been a really hard week.  A hellish week, actually.  In fact, I can’t remember a more challenging time since DJ was a newborn – and that’s saying a lot.  We are sleep-deprived, which I believe is just another term for “clinically insane.”

Just when I was celebrating the fact that DJ had finally started sleeping through the night, in her own bed, without me – she decided to give up naps.  I had all but corked a magnum bottle of Veuve to commemorate the nine nights of bliss, when DJ moved me to tears rather than drunken hiccups of glee.    Last week, she refused to take a nap five days out of seven.  And let’s face it, what I’m really trying to say is that I had five days without ANY time to myself.  Zip, zero, zilch.  That’s enough to make even the strongest, most gracious and passionate mother crumble to her knees.  Which I did.  A lot.  My husband felt so sorry for me, that he even brought home this “Nap-Strike Wellness Kit.”  (He’s a really good catch).

If you’ve been following my posts, then you know that sleep has been the bane of my existence since DJ was born (well, before that if you count the sleepless nights I spent on the couch as a heifer in the heat of August, 2009 while I was nine months pregnant).  But, it’s one of those chicken or egg phenomenon’s – I’m not sure if our lack of tough love surrounding sleep issues caused DJ to be a bad sleeper, or if our sensitivity to DJ’s bad sleep issues caused us to soften up.  In any case, I am tired of defending our choices and so, here I am saying it out loud for the first time ever – my daughter is not perfect (and we certainly aren’t either, but I make no qualms about that).  Every time someone sees her radiant smile and says, “She sure is happy,” I always respond with, “She’s a really sweet girl.”  And then, in my head, I say, “unless you’re trying to put her to bed, and then she turns into a freakin monster.”

I have talked with sleep consultants and pediatricians, and they all assure me that DJ is just fine, that not all children sleep as well as every single other child that I know, will outgrow this, and seems to be perpetually on the verge of some supposed development milestone.  At this point, I am waiting for her to wake up singing “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” while doing cartwheels.  How about her next developmental milestone be one that focuses on healthy sleep patterns?  That would be good.

Anyhow, things were looking up yesterday.  She actually took a two-hour nap, during her “regular” naptime.  I used the time to shower, shave my legs, blow dry my hair, put on makeup and even watch part of a daytime drama movie.  Man, I felt spoiled (and clean!).  However, as I am quickly learning, we certainly can’t have too much of a good thing – so of course, last night was a real doozey.

DJ rolled around the guardrail, and fell out of her bed at 3:00 am.  She woke up in a panic (totally understandable), but then spent the next hour-and-a-half fussing (incomprehensible, right?).  She wasn’t hurt in any way – the bed is low to the ground, the floor is carpeted, and her noggin seems downright indestructible.   But nothing, and I do mean nothing, would make her happy.  At one point, as I was rocking her, she started pointing to her changing table saying, “Pee-Pee.”  In the midst of my frustration, I actually had a proud moment, “Wow,” I thought, “Now she’s telling me when she needs her diaper changed.”  So, I laid her on the changing table only to find out through heightened screaming, that she was actually pointing at her bedroom door saying “Eeety, Eeety,” her word for “Kitty.”  Oh right, because every kid should be allowed to play with their pet kitty at 4:00am.  NOT.

Once she realized that we were not going to be letting Eeety into the bedroom, DJ started calling for “Dada,” then “Papa,” then “dah-ee (doggy),” and finally hoping her “Pahdee (pacifier)” would rescue her from her cries.  Just as I put Pahdee in her mouth, she sneezed, and Pahdee launched across the room and vanished into the darkness.  Well, that was it, the straw that broke my little camel’s back.  We had to turn on the lights, find Pahdee, and then start the calming process all over again.  I didn’t crawl back into my own bed until 4:47 am.  So awesome.

DJ is napping as I write this blog.  It took me 40 minutes to get her down.  I made four separate trips into her bedroom to put her back into her bed (which makes me wonder if she really fell out of bed last night, or if her determined and independent little self climbed out).  I sang about 17 different lullabies, and even attempted to let her cry-it-out (which is, conveniently, when she dismounted from her mattress).  She’s now been asleep for one hour.

One hour is not enough time to write a blog (my passion), read my February issue of Martha Steward Living, check Facebook and have an actual, adult conversation with my husband on a Sunday afternoon.  However, I will take one hour over none – and will still take my child’s imperfections over any other child’s prodigy.  God, just give me the strength (and rationality) to remember that I said, and mean, that.

I am typing this from a hotel room in London.  We toured Tower of London this morning, had a nice lunch and swam in the hotel pool in the afternoon.  Now the children are asleep and my husband and I are sipping wine while typing away on our respective laptops watching BBC news.  Sounds lovely no?

But let me tell you, getting here was no easy feat.  We’ve been planning for and anticipating this trip for months.  As soon as I learned that my husband’s cousin was getting married in London and we’d be attending I started to fret about the flight and all the effort involved in taking three kids on a trip to Europe.  We’ve taken several road trips with our kids, no problem.  We are experts at the three kids stuck in the car for several hours thing.

However, air travel with three kids… not our thing. When my twin girls were eleven months old we took them to Hawaii.  That trip ruined me.  The girls were just learning to walk and they had no interest in sitting still for one moment.  I’ll spare you the details, but the flight was hard… for us and the other passengers.  Neither one of them slept a wink and things got worse once we arrived in paradise.  They hated the beach and screamed if their little toes got anywhere near the sand.   Our normally champion sleepers were up all night long crying and naps were non-existent.  The plane ride home was made worse by painful diaper rashes and two overly exhausted parents.  That trip was my first taste of how different travel can be once you have children.

Since then I’ve avoided taking our kids anywhere that requires air travel.  I was scarred.  But there was no avoiding this one.  And at eight, eight and five and no diapers or naps to contend with, it was time.  We got the kids passports, prepared with plenty to do on the plane and we were off.

The kids were thrilled and we talked a lot about airplane etiquette and what to expect.  I really had no reason to worry.  They were great on the plane.  What I wasn’t prepared for was how annoyed I would be at all the other passengers.  Just as my son fell asleep, the couple behind us started a very loud conversation about how difficult it is to sleep on airplanes and the women sitting next to my daughter kept her overhead light on the entire ten hour flight.  Only one of my kids actually slept on the airplane and only for a little over an hour.

And no amount of preparation could have prepared me for our first day here.  We left SFO at 1pm California time and arrived at 7am London time.  We were assured we would be able to check into our hotel when we arrived.  But when we got here, we were told there was no way they could check us in until 3pm at the earliest.  That is when I freaked out.  This was not part of my plan.  We were going to sleep for a few hours, then get up and try to acclimate to London time.  The kids were fried and I was ready for a shower.  My husband suggested we tour around the city for the day and then check in.  I told him (in my not-so-nice voice) that there was no way our already tired kids could manage any kind of tourist activity.

Thankfully my husband has lots of family here and we were able to spend the day at his aunts house while we waited for our hotel room.  When we finally checked in we were all exhausted and frazzled.  We had basically been up for almost 24 hours.  Since then we’ve been battling jet lag.

For someone like me who lives and breathes by my kids routines and bedtimes, this has been rough.  It’s like we all take turns turning into incoherent zombies and completely crashing out.  We  passed my sleeping son back and forth as we walked up and down endless flights of stairs looking at all the king’s medieval armor.  As soon as we left and he woke up, my daughter took over. She practically melted on the subway because she was soooooo tired and soooooooooo hungry.  Then my other daughter slept right through dinner only to wake up just moments ago (midnight our time) starving and not at all ready to go back to sleep.  I am very ready to go to sleep.

And yet, not once have we said this trip was a bad idea.  My kids have studied the London underground map and could tell me how to get anywhere from Queensbury to Notting Hill.  They were mesmerized by the Queen’s jewels and think it’s hilarious that every time they order lemonade, they get 7-Up.  In a couple of days all the wedding activities will start and I know I’ll be even more reassured that this trip was good idea.

I have no doubt that we will all be back on our proper sleep schedules the day we are scheduled to return back to the US.  Then schools starts a few days later.  Do you think they allow naps for 3rd graders?

There are still 6 weeks until LG starts kindergarten and I totally get why parents count down the days of summer.  I am exhausted!!!  LG still goes to school 3 days a week and I am so glad.  I might die if not for those breaks.

My child has always been a good sleeper.  When she was a baby she went to bed at 6:30 p.m. and slept until 7 a.m.  It was glorious.  Sure she woke in the night sometimes but those I could deal with.  She napped until she was 5!  Most of her friends stopped napping by 3 or 4.  I stopped her at 5 because it was making her stay up too late.  I need my mommy time in the evening.  She now is asleep by 7:30-8 p.m. but she is up at 6 a.m. every morning.  It is killing me.  I am exhausted and ready for bed when she goes down.  Then, of course, I get my second wind and am up way too late each day.

Most of our days are spent at the pool which doesn’t seem too tiring but being in the sun and water all day wears us out.  Not only that, but LG starts doing gymnastics at 7 a.m.  Basically from the time she wakes until the time she passes out at night, my kid goes and goes and goes.  Some days, I have to turn on the TV so that I can nap in peace!

I have started counting down the days until kindergarten starts.  I will be happy to have someone else keeping her busy all day.  Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE every minute with her but dang that girl wears me out! 44 days and counting…..