I'm At Least As Good A Mother As Ben Stiller

There is no greater pleasure in this world then soothing your child(ren) to sleep.

And it's not just because they finally just shut the crap up for a second so you can have a moment of peace. Unless it's my daughter...and then I'm not sure if the greater joy is soothing her to sleep or just putting her in a cage in her bedroom which we euphemistically call a "crib."

Tinkerbell was a terrible sleeper up until a coworker of mine, probably after hearing me go on and on about how I was never getting any sleep and watching me pour 5-hour Energy into a Red Bull for breakfast, highly recommended to me both Healthy Sleep Habits - Happy Child, and The Sleep Easy Solution. That was one of the best days of my life.

I went with The Sleep Easy Solution because it was endorsed by Ben Stiller. If Zoolander can put his spawn to sleep, so can the hubby and I. I shan't think of the mother I would be if my parenting skills were not up to par with the lead male role in Heavyweights.

The Sleep Easy Solution is an alternative to the cry/whine it out method, which I just couldn't handle. If it worked for you and your kids, that's awesome and I'm happy for you! No judgment here, I'm all about doing what makes the babies happy and healthy and what keeps the parents sane, it just wasn't something I was game for.

Sparing you the step by steps, you basically take about a week to prep and adjust your night terror's sleep association so (s)he learns to self-soothe. Pretty soon you're putting the kids down and then celebrating the rest of the evening because those monsters are out for the whole night! A true success story in our house, Tink slept through the night on night two.

This is polar opposite from what it was...while D*Bear was the poster boy for good sleeping habits, his sister was up every 45 minutes being a little cry baby about everything, and when she wasn't waking up, she was restlessly sleeping and grunting. So ladylike.

I should have taken pictures of what I looked like when I walked into work every morning at 7am. How I stayed employed while looking the constant hot mess and blabbing to anyone who would listen about how little sleep I got is beyond me.

Coworker: Kel, did you get a chance to [insert boring work task here?]

Me: Oh, I don't know, well rested coworker with your stupid bright eyes and your obnoxious bushy tail. How about YOU live MY life last night with only 1 1/2 UNCONSECUTIVE hours of sleep and YOU tell ME if at this early hour YOU would have finished it.

Coworker: It's 3:30pm.

Me: I didn't get any sleep last night.

Repeat. All day. Every day.

Which brings me back to my point. There is no greater joy or pure bliss than putting your sweet baby angel in her crib, kissing her on the forehead, and watching her drift gently and peacefully sleep.

However, I suppose that joy is matched by tucking in your baby bear boy and singing Coldplay, Nada Surf, and old church hymns from your childhood, (which all of a sudden inspire you) for ten minutes while rubbing his back and watching the long eyelashes that he got from his daddy slowly meet.

Bedtime in this house is a sweet memory that I tuck away in the part of my brain that is quick to anger and frustration so I can take it out and make that moment seem as silly...as...well..Ben Stiller as the lead in a movie about supermodels.

Off to wind down for nighty-night myself,
Kel