Friday, May 10, 2013

Sleep

There's something  beautiful about sleeping. It's even more beautiful to know that you're going to get to sleep undisturbed, as late as you want, for as long as you want. It's the 'anticipatory sleep" that I would argue may be even better than the actual sleep.
I find myself unusually tired these last few days. Maybe it's my thyroid, maybe it's viral, maybe I have leukemia. Probably not that. But you never know.
It's probably because I haven't slept through the night in about 9 years. No pity for me- I totally created these sleepholes (the little people that rob me of slumber). They all end up in my bed starting from about 2am. And then we're up at 6:30am. Now I know that we're lucky as hell to be able to get up and not have to take a bus to the factory to assemble cardboard boxes. Or that these sleepholes are healthy and continue to breathe all day long. We have a really cushy, lucky life. That being said, I would give my left nipple to sleep until noon.
"You'll sleep when you're dead", people have said to me.
News flash, that's not sleep. That's being dead. I won't enjoy the "sleep" because I'll be....dead.
I am always in awe of people who wake up at 5am to exercise or to just get "an early start" to their day.  How does that work? What makes them get vertical and put one foot in front of the other at that hour? The only thing I want badly enough at 5am is more sleep.
I admire those people like I admire anorexics. Kudos to you for that kind of willpower. Even if it's fueled by the crazies.
The few times I've gotten up at the ass crack of dawn to exercise (actually twice), I definitely felt good 2 hours after it was done. But I felt like ass the hour before, the hour of and the hour afterwards. Like night shift ass. That feeling of moving slowly through cotton candy. I promptly learned that I wasn't the kind of person who rose like a lion to take on the day especially when that day started with a treadmill. F*ck that. I had more important things to do...like staying unconscious.
So for Mothers Day this year, I am going to sleep in. And I won't even have to lose a nipple in the process. Husband will take the sleepholes far far away. I don't even want them on my front lawn. I want them somewhere where they need a car to get back home.
So to my little darlings whom I created and love with all of my being:  Mama needs to sleep and will physically harm you if you wake me up before 10am. Because it's my day, goddamn it, and that's what I want. I'll love the wrinkled paper flowers and sloppy card way more if I haven't been up since 6:30am.
Thanks in advance my little sleepholes. Mama loves you.

Monday, May 6, 2013

The Child Whisperer

Never trust anyone who claims they're a "whisperer". A child whisperer, a dog whisperer, a horse whisperer- what have you. It implies that there is one universal way to raise kids and train your dog. If they really knew *THE* way to "raise cooperative and respectful children" than why would they whisper it? Shouldn't they yell it from the rooftops?
This idea of a universal experience or a single truth is dangerous. It's dangerous to parents and to kids. I remember going away to college and feeling like my first year away from home in Israel HAD to be amazing and life changing. It just had to. Everyone loved their year in Israel. Everyone. It created this enormous pressure to make sure every experience was dripping with awesomeness. It made it seen inauthentic at times.  There were days that I just wanted to go home. There were days that I slept through and were totally not awesome. And there were days that really were kick-ass good. But those days didn't make it into the photo album (remember those relics of ancient, pre-facebook civilization?). So, the experience of that year and then of college afterwards was highly variable. Some days were good and would have made a great photo-op and some days sucked so bad that the idea of getting dressed and walking to class was too much to bear. Most of the days were somewhere in the middle.
I think the kindest thing we can do for our kids is to tell them that the experience they're about to embark on- whether it be summer camp, new school, college, a new relationship- may be great, may be mediocre or  may suck hard. And all of those experiences will be right- for them, at that time. It will teach them what they like and what absolutely doesn't work for them. And then- honor that. Even if you had the best years of your life in summer camp- your kid may hate it. Honor that. You may find religion moving and life affirming and your child doesn't. Honor that. You get where I'm going with this.
So how did I get here from the child whisperer? Not sure. But when I see books by these whisperers, I get highly suspicious. Maybe they whisper truths. Maybe they have great ideas that would work for some people in certain circumstances. But they need to keep whispering, because not everyone wants to hear them.

If I wrote a child rearing book ( with a big fat disclaimer that I have no idea what I'm doing on a good day) it would be called "The Child Screamer". I would go on a book tour and just yell at kids and parents. That seems like a universally great idea.