Sleep charts, training, and bribes

I had to make a sleep chart for my 3 3/4 year old child whose interest in conversation and chatterboxing at all hours of the night and early morning was killing my beauty rest, my peace of mind, and was slowly eroding my sanity.  I promised a worthy prize at the end of ten nights of uninterrupted sleep.  No waking in the night to talk or demand food or play on the iPad allowed, but escorts to the bathroom or checks for illness or bad dreams were permitted.  Not one to miss a prize, Lily signed on too.  I had to allow it though I knew she'd breeze through this challenge and get the reward.  Including her was like allowing an Olympic swimmer to compete against middle school challengers but I had to to be fair...to her.  The oldest doesn't quite understand that she's already reached these milestones, been coddled and handled through these obstacles in the very recent past.  All she sees is the possibility of a toy and knows immediately that only one of them in this fight ain't right.

We were off to a rough start.  Well, Virginie was...and by association so was I.  The first night was as miserable as all those before the chart went up.  She asked me why she had water in her sippy cup instead of juice.  Then asked me to change it.  I didn't.  There were tears and desperation.  She asked about the colors in the rainbow.  She wanted me to say them and then she would repeat them.  When I did not state them with the right dose of enthusiasm she cried and asked me to do them all again.  I did while drifting off to sleep, so she nudged me, poked me in the eye, whispered in my ear., "Mommy, why are your eyes closed? Why do we have to sleep?  I don't like to."  I foolishly engaged.  "We need sleep for our health.  We need it to function during the day and do the things we want to do."  She asked, "What is function?"  I answered, "To be able to do things correctly, do them well."  "Why do we have to function?"  And it goes on and on like that until I think I am going to fall down the rabbit hole and I start to beg. 

We did eventually get to sleep about an hour and a half later, but by then I was nearly willing to give away all the government secrets.  The next few days we started to get on track.  I kept reminding Virginie that the end goal was a prize and that it wouldn't be something whack from the dollar store.  A real prize.  Lily got the idea.  She was on it.  I don't think she even got out of bed to use the bathroom until daybreak.  Every morning Lily would ask, "Did you have a good sleep?  Can I get a star?"  And she could because she'd slept through the night.  Seeing that first star go up, Virginie got the fever.  She was not about to miss out on a prize.  So sleep training commenced.

While I know Virginie was thrilled out of her face to see those stickers go up, no joy could overtake my own.  That first morning that I woke up face down with drool on the pillow, I almost didn't recognize where I was.  I was so used to sleeping twisted up in a ball of blankets and special lovies in a teeny, tiny toddler bed that the incredible sensation of space and warmth around me nearly had me convinced that I was on an alien abduction operating table.  "Oh, glorious sunlight shining into my life!" I thought.  WOWZ.  This is what everyone was raving about!  Another night, then another and another.  I was getting hooked on this stuff! I would have bought a Barbie castle and sports car for this wonderfulness!  Though I knew a habit took more than four days to form, I was optimistic.  

Imagine my shock and surprise when Virginie called for me on that fifth day and wanted to talk about "that thing that Annabel had on her head" and "why Papa and Lily were sleeping and we're not."  We stayed up for almost two hours and I felt defeated.  Somehow, despite this setback, we made it to ten days, ten stickers, and a present.  We walked as a family to the toy store in town where each of the girls got to choose a small toy.  I didn't set a price limit but I did tell them that it was not Christmas nor was it their birthdays, that this was a reward, a token to celebrate their achievement.  Lily clutched a bug-eyed unicorn named Magic to her chest and, no surprise, Virginie chose a Rapunzel bath toy that could detach from her floating shell and play with the other Rapunzels in her collection.

I know that ten days, ten stickers does not a habit make.  Last night, after having received her ten stickers, Lily called me in the night crying about a "bad choice" she'd made that was racking her brain.  We sat up for an hour talking about forgiving herself and being kind to herself and with a little snuggling and kissing, all was forgiven.  I cuddled up behind her in her little bed and we promptly went to sleep.  One hour later I was tip toeing back to my own bed.  The chart still hangs and will continue to be loaded with stars and encouragement.  I don't really care so much about the number of stickers and stars, don't even mind if we don't really get to ten each time.  They feel really proud when they've made it overnight, are jazzed that Mommy has had some rest and has a genuine smile on her face to greet them.  And when we all get some sleep?  That is the best reward of all.



(c)  Copyright 2013.  Repatriated Mama: Back to the Suburban Grind.