Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Gracie is on a sleep strike, by which, we become her cohorts. By WE I totally mean Matt, but I am getting dragged into this too. Not a fan.

I think Grace really was listening when I told her she could have anything she wanted during my pangs of bad parenting guilt. She’s 21 months old. She has no use for designer jeans or access to the car, so has decided to reap her reward in the form of all night parties where if she is not touching one of us, flesh to flesh, she instantly awakens.

Last night was day two of this. I, for the most part, slept through day one. Matt however got maybe three hours of sleep Monday night. Last night, the games started at 10:30 pm. My shift lasted until 1am, and then Matt took over. Again. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew I should have insisted that he go back to bed, but I was so bleary eyed. He took her into the spare room for four hours of kicks to the chest and I barely made it back to our bed.

While four hours of sleep sounds OK to most people, for me it’s not. I need eight. NEED. And Matt was withered after Monday’s go-round; I can’t imagine how his brain is functioning right now on day two. After a year of knowing your kid can sleep though the night, the fact that you did this and more during the newborn stages no longer matters. She needed us then. She couldn’t make it though the night, so it was alright.

Now, these games are no longer acceptable. This is me putting you on notice Gracie. You will sleep though the night tonight. With help from outside sources if that’s what it takes.

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