2023 Prayer Project Progress

Photo by Olivia Snow on Unsplash

The names in my bag continue to dwindle as I near the end of my 2023 Facebook Prayer Project. One individual, when I drew his name, replied, "Finally, I made it!" Ha! As of today, we are 4/5ths through the year. Because I had 377 Facebook friends at the outset of this project, I drew 8 names each week for the first 26 weeks and will draw 7 names each week for the last 26 weeks. One month out from praying for individuals, I send a quick message alerting them to the Bible verse I selected to accompany my prayers for them in their week. I also offer to place needs on my ongoing prayer list. The ongoing list has grown substantially, and this makes my heart glad. Often, people do not respond to my initial offer to pray for them. It could be they cannot think of a need. Perhaps they're not comfortable sharing significant needs. Perhaps they doubt I really pray for them. Whatever the case, they often later say, "Could you add this to your ongoing prayer list?"

I also ask for news of answers to prayer. Some are simple and small. One shared that time in God's Word had been beneficial for improving her mindset about her job. Another said she was feeling more at ease with her life and the people around her. Plus, I have heard answers to prayer for jobs, financial aid for schooling, and children plugged into church connections. Another shared that her mother's house sold in a week. One woman, after praying for a student, heard from that student out-of-the-blue. She wanted to connect about faith topics because her grandmother passed away, causing her to consider spiritual things. One very dear friend has experienced deep losses and walked a long and troubled path with prodigals. She needed a biopsy to check for cancer. Her results revealed it was benign!

When possible, I add the names of family members (spouse, children, grandchildren) to each 3x5 prayer card. This week I prayed for 125 individuals. Over time, the bulk of my praying has shifted to those ongoing needs. I suppose that is understandable. Those needs are clear and specific. Sometimes I have nothing to go by but the person's name. When the connection is tenuous (say, met at an event or friend-requested because they know my sibling), I have even less. Still, I pray for general needs (physical, emotional, and spiritual).

Prayer needs in my home have grown, as well. I continue to pray for each of my sons. Bryce has many work stresses. Trevor is seeking a more established job and an apartment. I pray for Sean's safety in football practices and games. For each of them, I ask God to counter the attractions of the world and draw them into a deeper relationship with God. My husband has not been sleeping well since May. We are not sure of the cause. But this, combined with many necessary home repairs, feels like a spiritual assault. In the beginning of October, I came down with the most horrendous head cold I've ever experienced (perhaps it was acute bronchitis). Of course, given his sleep loss, my husband caught it. As much as I complained about the intensity, his seemed ten times worse.

Plus, I feel the weight of the times. Every day we move closer to what I would consider the "end times." Developments seem to fall right out of scripture. With that, comes an urgency to do more witnessing to unbelievers. I joined a friend-forming group on Facebook and have tried to make it to several of their events (games, movies, bingo). It is like watching an hourglass emptying. The sand flits through so fast. Before we know it, our time may be up. Where will you spend eternity?

Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash

Book Review: The Circadian Code

Having recently devoured The End of Alzheimer's by Dr. Dale Bredesen, where I first encountered twelve-hour fasting, this book by Satchin Panda, PhD, sounded like a supporting work. I am determined to give the recommendations outlined in both books a joint effort to see what results might come. Bredesen's protocol is a ketogenic diet with a twelve-hour fast. Panda recommends creating a time-restricted eating (TRE) window of twelve, eleven, ten, nine, or eight hours. His ideas encourage the reader to align behaviors to match the needs of the circadian rhythm.

The Circadian Code: Lose Weight, Supercharge Your Energy, and Transform Your Health from Morning to Midnight is a fascinating look into our individual body clocks. So often diets and health plans focus on what you consume, while this book shows it is equally important to focus on when you consume. The book encourages readers to seek the best time of day or night to eat, sleep, exercise, work, and learn. Panda argues that you can avoid certain ailments and super-charge your body and brain by following a strict schedule. If you learn to follow the rhythm of your body's circadian code, you will align for the best health results.

The book raised many sensible points. Both physical exercise and time in the sun will improve your sleep. "A change to any of the three core rhythms - sleep, timing of food, and activity - can affect any one of your organs." He encourages you to address snoring: "Mouth breathing reduces the amount of oxygen that goes into the brain. That also puts the brain in a hypoxic, or low-oxygen, state, which can increase the chance of getting dementia and various brain-related problems like memory loss." (I have taken up his suggestion to use Breathe Right strips at night and have found it improves my sleep.) Stick to a schedule of regular mealtimes. The book claims "TRE reduces the drive to make and store excess fat, improves fat burning, normalizes cholesterol level, and reduces inflammation." And finally, "You can maintain a robust clock and preserve your normal brain function by following four simple habits: sleep, TRE, exercise, and the appropriate exposure to daylight."

Even beyond attempting to narrow my TRE window, I have been recommending the book's advice to my boys and my husband. I read aloud bits of the discussion about screen exposure before bedtime. I encouraged my boys to spend more time outside in physical activity during daylight hours. My biggest struggle has been convincing Trevor to stick with a strict sleep schedule that doesn't alter on weekends (that boy loves to sleep until noon on Saturday mornings). But, then again, teens have a natural need for more sleep. (I think I don't mind the sleeping in, as much as the staying up late).

This was a fascinating read and I recommend it to anyone who might be interested in attempting to lose weight without necessarily cutting favorite foods. Besides reading the book, you can sign up to take part in a 14-week research study using his app: mycircadianclock.org. It sounds easy to use. You take photos of what you eat and record sleep and exercise times. In this manner, you will not only recognize your own circadian rhythm, but will provide valuable data for further research.
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Follow-up: I limited my eating time to a twelve-hour window (between 7:15 a.m. and 7:15 p.m.) for two weeks (between St. Patrick's Day and the boys' spring break - one reason I gave the TRE experiment a break). I didn't alter my diet, apart from having a salad for lunch most days, and I might have fared better if I had. After two weeks, I lost not a pound of weight - groan. Indeed, I had difficulty sleeping (of all things - nothing on my mind, yet I tossed and turned and woke repeatedly). Crazy, that following the circadian rhythm disrupted the circadian rhythm. Moreover, I struggled with waiting for my coffee at 7:15, when I normally drink it upon waking between 5 and 6. So, while I leave this review as it was when I first wrote it, my enthusiasm for the approach has diminished. I will try it again, paired with the ketogenic flexitarian diet Bredesen recommends at a later point. For now, I'm enjoying spring break and eating whenever I please.

Book Review: Naptime with Theo & Beau

Although this is billed as a pre-reader children's book, the photography in it is so stunning, even adults will ooh and aah over it. Author, Jessica Shyba, began taking photos of her young son and their puppy and posting them to her popular blog, Momma's Gone City. The photos quickly went viral and soon she had quite a large following of people eagerly awaiting another photo of Theo and Beau asleep together. The story is simple and the photos are, as The Daily Mail bills them, "unbearably adorable." For any parent with dog-lovers in the home, this is a must-read/must-view book. Warning: it will melt your heart.

Losing Sight of the Person Behind the Problem

On Sunday, I had a BAD day. One of the things that played a role in the demise of my mood was a misplaced credit card. I was cleaning out my purse and handing over the week's receipts to my husband. It became clear that the card was nowhere to be found. I had to mention it to my husband (looking back, I'm thinking I should have waited until I had been searching for more than fifteen minutes).

I dread situations like this. He is extremely careful with his receipts and his money. Indeed, if I so much as leave the change from my pockets on my dresser top, it will disappear. I am not nearly so careful. Often I will drop the change I am given right into my purse, assuming that at the end of the week, I will clean it all out and put everything right again.

So, here I was with a cleaned out purse, and a missing credit card. Once he knew, the pressure was on. I couldn't even remember where I had used it last. He was immediately ready to call the company and cancel the card. I begged for time to search various coat pockets and dresser tops, etc. However, all those searches came to naught. He became more frantic. I became more upset - both upset with my mistake and upset with his reaction.

On the third or fourth scouring of my purse, I found the card. It had slipped into a zippered section of the purse that I rarely use and didn't realize was unzipped. The relief should have made the day better. Instead, I began to stew over the unfairness of his perfection and my irresponsibility.

He came to apologize. I would like to say that I graciously accepted the apology and everything was mended. Alas, my pride was too big for that and I chose to simmer in my own resentment.

Cue this morning.

We have been having some horrible nights lately. Trevor wakes in a panic about three or four times a night and wants ME to come lie with him. Up until last weekend, I was so focused on the problem that I ceased to see the sweet child behind it. It was literally ruining every night's sleep. Thankfully, a blogging friend helped redirect my focus.

Swistle recently posted about a similar nightly battle going on in her household with her five year old daughter. It was comforting to know that this falls in the spectrum of normal parental issues and helpful to read all the comments and suggestions. As a result, I put down an extra comforter and a sleeping bag for Trevor to crawl into on those nights when he needs to be near me.

The first night, it worked famously. He crept in, slid into his spot on the floor next to me and my sleep was uninterrupted. Last night, however, he would not be satisfied until Daddy left to sleep on the couch and gave up his side of our bed. Sean awoke and sensed that his brother had flown the coop, so he came in and slept on the bed roll on the floor. They both have serious colds and major nasal congestion, so I had two snoring, sniffling, grunting boys last night and VERY LITTLE SLEEP.

This morning, I gave up on sleep around 6:30 and (sensing my absence) both little boys rose around 6:45 a.m. Within minutes, Trevor was seated at a tray in front of the television with his breakfast. Alas, he must not have slept very well either. He sat staring at the television for more than half an hour and I became more frantic with each moment, spurring him to hurry with eating, to brush his teeth, to take some cold medicine and get on his shoes, coat, hat, gloves, and backpack.

In the end, the flashing lights of the bus were looming, I was screaming about how watching television causes him to dawdle and miss the bus, and he was in a heap on the floor crying and trying to quickly put on his shoes (which only made him move MORE SLOWLY). In the midst of all this stress, Sean let the dog out of the crate and he was communicating his need to be taken outside to do his duty. Trevor missed the bus!

I took the dog outside and breathed deeply. As the air cleared my head, I saw so very clearly that I had just reacted in the same way that had damaged me on Sunday. I had lost sight of Trevor in the problem of his missing the bus. In fact, I had magnified the problem so much that I couldn't see him behind it.

I came inside and resolved to eat my humble pie. Trevor was already waiting in the cold van. I climbed in the back seat with him and dried his tears.

"I owe you an apology, buddy," I said. "I'm sorry I yelled and got all upset. Missing the bus isn't the end of the world, but I made it look like that and that wasn't fair to you! I'm sorry that I lost my temper. I'm sorry that I hurt you in making the problem look way bigger than it really was."

I'm pretty sure this is a lesson I'll have to revisit a time or two. But for now, I'm really going to work on magnifying the person instead of the problem.

As for Sunday, Swistle had another good post to consider. She and another blogging friend exchanged "Crappy Day Gifts." These are a series of gifts, ranked according to level of difficulty. You save the gifts for an especially bad day, when such a gift can really smooth out the ruffled feathers of life. Swistle, like me, had a really, really bad day and opened one of her "Crappy Day Gifts," to discover a box of See's chocolates. I'm thinking THAT would have gone a long way to make up for the little credit card blunder (and everything else that soured that day). Then again, maybe I need to adjust my perception of what makes a crappy day. I noted that Swistle updated the story with a new post on the crappy day gifts and this crappy day, which she designated as medium made my crappy day look like a good day. Yikes.

Still, I'm wondering if there is anyone out there in cyber-land who might want to exchange crappy day gifts with me? If not, at least remember to magnify the person, not the problem.

P.S. In all fairness, (not, of course, to make myself feel better in any way -hee-hee) my husband is NOT PERFECT. He himself once left a credit card in the slot of an ATM and drove away, not even missing it for a day. That wasn't the end of our world, either!

Book Review: Adrenal Fatigue

Two years ago, when we were at CBLI, I had the great fortune to visit with Mary, my friend from college (since she lives near the camp). We were marvelling at how we had both been encountering the same constant itch issues and had received a similar diagnosis. It was one of those odd, "No, way, me too!" kind of moments.

Several months ago, when I began to complain of constant fatigue and of great difficulty rousing myself for the day's tasks before noon, Mary once again began to turn over the similarities between us in her mind. She has recently been diagnosed with Addison's disease and wondered if I might be struggling with Adrenal Fatigue.

She did more than just wonder, however. She also send two books for me to read and a week's worth of adrenal support supplements for me to try.

At the time, I was wondering if these symptoms were caused by the antidepressant I had been on (Cymbalta). It seemed like I was always tired, even after a really good night's sleep. I could sleep for twelve hours and then turn around and fall asleep when putting my littlest guy down for his nap (often falling asleep quicker than he did).

When I approached my doctor about these problems, he felt that we could attempt to wean me from the Cymbalta to see how I fared. I will admit that I was somewhat apprehensive to be weaning in the midst of a family funeral. But, at this point I have been off for over six weeks. I think my husband believes I should return to the meds, but I am loathe to go down that road again.

The doctor did run some blood tests, but said that everything came back normal, with no signs of thyroid difficulties. When Mary suggested adrenal fatigue, I requested a cortisol levels blood test. I found that endeavor almost humorous, since they wanted you at the lab for blood draw as soon as I awoke, but so often I couldn't even drag my body out of bed before 8:30 or 9 a.m. I did finally manage to get the test, but again, the doctor reported all results as normal. When I look at the lab results myself, it appears that I am within two points of the low end. John wanted me to call back and ask what the suggestion would have been if the results had varied by those two points. I guess I felt like traditional doctors are not really taking my symptoms or difficulties seriously.

This book was really beneficial to me. It is full of practical tests and advice for the patient. It promises to explain what adrenal fatigue is and how you can recover your energy, vitality and enjoyment of life.

When I read Chapter 5, which offered an illustrated list of the signs and symptoms of adrenal fatigue, I felt like I was looking in a mirror. Here are some of the things I have been experiencing: 1) difficulty getting up in the morning, 2) continuing fatigue not relieved by sleep, 3) lethargy (everything seems like a chore), 4) increased effort to do every day tasks, 5) decreased sex drive, 6) decreased ability to handle stress, 7) depression, 8) less enjoyment or happiness with life, 9)increased PMS, 10) thoughts less focused, more fuzzy (you may remember my questioning whether I might have early Alzheimer's), 11) memory less accurate, 12) decreased tolerance (I know the little boys have to do far less to get on my nerves than Bryce ever did), 13) cycle of wakefulness which begins between 10 a.m. and noon, with a slump between 3 and 4 p.m. and then coming alive around 6 p.m. only to find it difficult to sleep before midnight or 1 a.m., and ... the bane of my existence - 14) decreased productivity.

The book offered a questionnaire, but I could already tell that I bear most of the symptoms, so I failed to complete the lengthy questionnaire. When I look at my health history timeline, I would have to say that much of this began with the birth of my final son. Of course, it wasn't lost on me that this birth coincided with our move to this isolated area where I began caring for two small children with little or no family or friend support.

Next the book offered some simple tests to perform on yourself. The first required shining a light on iris to determine whether the iris lazily stays open despite the light. I requested my husband's assistance for this test, but did not bear much hope for the test. For as long as I can remember, my irises have always been larger than normal. In fact, I have been able to read in the dark for most of my life. We were unable to confirm anything with this test.

I should admit that I didn't try the second or third test options either. The second suggestion was to test your blood pressure both from a lying position and then immediately after standing. We did not have a blood pressure cuff, so I was unable to perform this test. The third test is called "Sergent's White Line," and involves testing your skin's reaction to a stroke with a pen.

I'm pretty sure, even without confirmation from lab tests or patient-driven tests, that I have at least a mild form of adrenal fatigue.

So, what is adrenal fatigue? It is quite simply a slowing down of the function of the adrenal glands. This is the seat of hormone production in the body and when the adrenal glands become fatigued (often from being in overdrive for far too long), many other systems of the body are affected. As the book says, "Changes occur in your carbohydrate, protein and fat metabolism, fluid and electrolyte balance, heart and cardiovascular system, and even sex drive."

Thus, I feel no hesitancy in believing that my recent weight gain (which seems to add up on in the chest and abdomen areas), my perpetual fatigue, my irritability, and my non-existent sex drive all stem from a form of adrenal fatigue within my body.

One of the reasons modern doctors don't seem eager to diagnose syndromes like "adrenal fatigue" is because there is no pill to fix the problem. Even the charts used to diagnose, only allow for the most extreme cases which are then treated with some patented prescription. This illness does not require a pill, it requires a lifestyle change. The key ingredients to healing your adrenal system involves healthier considerations of sleep, diet, exercise, and enjoyment of life.

I knew that my sleep system had been really taxed. It is so tempting to stay up early into the morning blogging and seizing what little time I can for myself. But, I have been seriously trying to follow the advice of getting to bed before 11 (when the second wind can often set in). I have also cut myself slack concerning naps. If I need a nap, well then, gosh darn it, my body needs a nap. If I didn't need it, my body wouldn't cooperate and sleep, now, would it?

I have been trying to eat smaller amounts more often throughout the day. I would often forget to eat breakfast (because my fog only allowed me to focus on performing the tasks of caring for the boys). Now, I try to eat soon after rising and think more about what and when I am eating.

I have stepped up my exercise to include at least 20 minutes of exercise daily. Some days this is difficult, if my energy levels are very low. Plus, I am attempting to utilize a variety of options (instead of boring myself with one repetitive video tape). I rotate between time on the Airdyne Exercycle (I think this is the hardest work - it absolutely shatters me, some days), a low-impact stretching routine with hand weights, my Jane Fonda tape, and walking. I even attempted a Taebo tape the other day (now that was humorous, since I could barely keep up with them or figure out where they were moving which body part to).

Finally, I am trying to seek out things that will provide more enjoyment personally. The book suggests the importance of laughing, so I have been spending time with Trevor watching episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos. I am considering joining a local choir. And, I continue to seek out ways to focus more on my writing (since that is what brings me the greatest pleasure).

If you are interested in more information about Adrenal Fatigue be sure to check out James Wilson's website, where you can acquire information and links to doctors and supplements.

Fighting Fatigue

This past week, I have been overcome with intense fatigue. At night, I am finding it difficult to stay awake for my usual late hours. Last night (after what was a very long, tiring day), I laid down with the little boys to help them fall asleep and we were all three out within minutes. When I woke at midnight, I moved to my own bed and continued to sleep until quarter to 8 this morning. Now again, tonight, despite last night's lengthy sleep, all I want to do is head to bed, but the length of time without blogging keeps niggling at my brain. So, I will do my best, even if it ends up a shabby run-down of what has me feeling run-down.

I wanted to share a few photos of the flowers we now have adorning the house. I do this partly because I fear that they will all die and I will have no evidence that a more knowledgeable hand planted them and yet, somehow, I killed them. Ha!

Here, also, is a photo of our blooming crab apple trees. They are already starting to lose those buds and become merely green trees.

Here are the annuals my mother-in-law planted where they had dug up a few small bushes (I have no idea what they are called):

More annuals (don't know if these will grow, since they are on the patio and it seems to be more mulch than dirt there):

They also purchased three lovely hanging baskets. Sadly, hubby informed me tonight that the yellow plant (again, I have no clue about names) is already looking like it is dying. I swear I haven't touched it once!

On Saturday morning, I went to get the mail and discovered a huge amount of litter right along the edge of our lawn (I have no patience for the rural litter problem). Apparently, someone was transporting some furniture late Friday night, and an entire vacuum cleaner fell off their vehicle. It was in about a million (o.k., maybe 15) pieces along the road. Later, hubby told me that there is a television on the side of the road around the corner, near our neighbor's farm. Crazy!

I actually took a video of the vacuum cleaner debris, but when I watched the footage, I realized how ridiculous I sounded giving a play-by-play of trash strewn at the edge of my lawn. It was kind of hilarious though, because as I was filming several bikers were riding by (they probably thought I was more of a lunatic than the lunatic who dropped their vacuum off their vehicle). Plus, MS came running out of the house asking me what I was doing. I tried to ignore him as I panned the debris, but then heard him shouting, "Is that YOUR VACUUM??" Give me a break, boy!

Actually, the boy did give me a break. Several weeks ago, his best friend, Evan, had invited him to a cool gymnastics birthday party. It was on Sunday from noon to two. I spent most of Sunday morning on the couch with a stomach ache and somehow completely forgot about the birthday party.

I sat MS down the next morning and primed the pump by explaining that I had made a mistake and it was something that was probably going to make him feel a bit angry with me. I apologized and said that I had forgotten to take him to Evan's birthday party. I braced myself for tears and angry retorts (like I normally hear - things like "You're the worst mom ever!").

Instead, he looked up at me and gently said, "It's o.k., Mommy, we have a trampoline we can jump on any time. Plus, we can invite Evan over to our house and then he can jump on the trampoline with us and we can show him the cool lamps big brother gave us." (ES cleaned out one of his closets and gave the boys his cool lamp collection including a disco ball, lava lamp and aqua lamp, plus a whole slew of car posters.)

On Monday, the two little boys began a two week stint of swimming lessons. Unlike ES and MS, who both went with me to the Hopkins Park Pool in DeKalb almost every summer day, YS really hasn't had much exposure to pools. ES taught himself to swim at age 4 and began doing flips off the diving boards at age 5. MS, at age 2, would toddle over to the edge of the pool, lower himself into the water and either cling to the edge (without floaties) or paddle the water to make himself spin (with floaties).

YS has cried and screamed the whole week (3 lessons, so far). MS thinks it is great fun and can't wait. YS spends all day agonizing about what is coming and begging me, "please don't make me do this again."

On Tuesday (after a long morning - they were told they couldn't do anything until their room was clean), the half hour prior to leaving for the pool was sheer torture. YS took 3 cups of water and poured them all over the floor of the bathroom. I had just cleaned that up and was preparing the swim bag. YS must have dug around in it while I went off to get my shoes. I returned to hear MS yelling, "Mom, look what YS did!"

The dog was covered in sunscreen, so much so that there was a puddle of sunscreen oozing off of him onto the floor. We were supposed to be leaving any minute. I grabbed up a towel and began sopping up the mess as best I could. Just then, the doorbell rang. As I opened it, the dog bolted out the door. I had to chase after him to get him back in the house and secured in the crate.

By the time we returned home from the little boys' swimming lessons and ES's drum lesson, the workmen (who had been laboring for most of the day) had finished the swing-set we recently purchased:


Thankfully, the boys have spent a lot of time playing on it since then. (I have always wondered about these wooden swing set structures, because so often we drive by others and barely ever see kids actually playing on them.) Selfishly, I would have rather spent the money on a trip to England to celebrate our 20th anniversary this year. Then again, the boys are really thrilled with it. Besides, I wouldn't even have the energy to pack my bags.

Then, this morning, for who knows what reason, YS decided that he would cover the dog in mulch. Now here's the irony: When someone's vacuum cleaner drops off their truck, I document the experience with photos and videos. Sadly, I failed to capture either the sunscreen slathered Harley or the mulch maculated Harley. I'm only glad that I delayed washing him until after the mulch experience.

And thus, (with my run-down complete) I will head to bed because I, myself, am a rather pooped pup!

I Laughed at his Parental Frustration

It has now been one week since we had a baby in the house. I intended to provide follow-up on my ES's computer baby experience. I haven't. Sorry!

I was actually kind of surprised that they offer this experience to 8th graders. Still, I was more than happy to have my son participate. At the end, he and I both had to answer questions about this activity. I gave the program a thumbs up, but did believe it should have covered a longer time frame, perhaps when they are in high school.

Last Tuesday, our van was in the shop, receiving new tires and a full detail (since I always seem to trash it when we go to CBLI). Thus, the boys and I were left with the car - a Pontiac Grand Am. It was highly amusing to watch ES consider the seating arrangements and then ask me to pop the trunk. Yes, he actually placed the baby in the trunk.

He told me later that he wished he were in high school and already driving when they had done this assignment. If so, he said he would have loved setting the baby carrier on top of the car and then getting in and starting to drive off, just so he could watch the startled reactions of people who would assume it was an actual baby. I shook my head and reminded myself that he is a boy. Then, later that night I checked my camera, just to make sure he hadn't made any prank videos to upload to You Tube. You never know with boys.

The baby was turned off during his drum lesson, but we still needed to bring it along, since he intended to go to a football game at school afterwards. However, as we left his drum lesson he called his friends to be sure they were going to the game. It turned out that one friend couldn't go and the other was going to be late by about an hour. When the last friend learned that ES would be going to the game with the baby, even he advised ES not to go.

So, we went home and waited for the baby to come to life. And come to life, it did! At six, it began breathing. Then, shortly after six it began to do things babies tend to do. First it required a diaper change. Then, within a half an hour, it required another diaper change. ES was highly embarrassed because every time the baby cried, MS, YS and I would go running to his room to watch him care for the baby. It was really quite amusing.

Between six and midnight, the baby fussed or needed to be fed often. ES was amazed that each feeding took almost a half hour. Then, he was even more perturbed when each feeding had to be followed up with a half hour of burping. He clearly didn't understand why it should take that long for a baby to bring up the air. What 13 year old can't bring up air on command, for goodness sake?

My husband showers in the bathroom in the room near the garage (where I had originally intended to have ES and the baby sleep). Thus, he was worried that he would waken a weary son and figurative grandson at 5:30 a.m., and he insisted that ES remain in his own room for the night. Of course, it really isn't a surprise that my hubby didn't wake once when the baby stirred, but ES and I were up with every cry.

Around midnight, ES began to get very frustrated. Unfortunately, I don't think I was a very compassionate sounding board. I found it hard not to laugh at his frustration. He was clearly convinced that if he had a real baby it wouldn't be as difficult. Several times, he declared that he would just allow his own baby to cry itself to sleep, since he wouldn't be graded on it. (Hmm, wonder if I could throw that argument back at him the next time he has a displayed need - I'll just delay meeting it because it isn't convenient.)

I did try to remind him of a very young baby's need to eat every two to three hours. After all, he was around when both MS and YS were newborns. Somehow, I think he was oblivious.

The more frustrated he got, the more I felt it necessary to paint the picture of his first months ... indeed, his first year. The first few nights there were three of us to wait on his every need (hubby, myself and m-i-l) and we were completely exhausted by ES's cries. I even took him back to the hospital convinced that something was wrong with him. He cried constantly and was very seldom soothed. Plus, we lived in an apartment and I was always worried about the noise.

When ES was 3 months old, we discovered that he had almost constant ear infections. At 11 months, he received tubes in his ears and became a completely different, and far easier, baby. Of course, by then, we were in a state of severe sleep deprivation. Somehow, I still get the feeling that ES was too busy hearing the cries of the moment to fully take in my descriptions of his infancy.

The baby really wasn't too bad and was only turned on for a 12 hour stint. I mean, come on - what parent wouldn't think life was just a bit too easy if their infant had a 12 hour passage of normal infant behavior and then shut off. Yet, I don't think my ES would have been ready to face those frustrations for more than that 12 hours afforded. At least, it did come in loud and clear that he is too impatient to be responsible for a baby at this age.

I'm sure he went off to school declaring that his baby had been set at the hardest level (the teacher had informed them that there were three level settings and that she didn't know which setting they would receive). I'm also positive that we both (ES and myself) woke up the following morning feeling very grateful that we don't have another small son to care for. I'm truly grateful that I could laugh at his frustration (for we all know that I wouldn't have been laughing much if his frustration had been genuine, instead of simulated).

The Saga Continues

This year has brought the most medical illnesses, Dr. visits, prescriptions filled and lingering health questions that our family has ever experienced. All five of us are on some form of medication. I feel as if I fill a prescription at CVS every other day. In fact, just today, I learned that hubby had contacted his doctor to explain that his new medicine was causing him to be unable to sleep for more than an hour the past three evenings (I didn't even know he had begun taking it). The doctor has given him yet another prescription for me to fill.

ES's stomach ailments continue to perplex us. When he began to experience unusual side effects to the Reglan, I called his GI to explain what we observed (as the prescription notes instructed to do). This doctor suggested we take him to a psychiatrist. Yes, these problems are getting him down, but the issue isn't primarily psychological, it is physical. The doctor called in another prescription for Erythromyacin (which I filled, but hubby refused to start ES on until school lets out tomorrow, because the pills are gigantic and side effects may cause further nausea - wasn't that what we are trying to combat in the first place?!).

In the meantime, with his weight loss continuing and his intense determination to participate in his school's wrestling season, I decided to call the primary physician again and ask for a referral for a second opinion. The first GI was going to wait until the end of January to give another colonoscopy. Another friend has asked the question, "How can the GI rule out Crohn's if he indicates that there is inflammation within the intestines and at the entrance to the stomach? Crohn's, by definition, is inflammation occurring anywhere from the mouth, down through to the anus." I hadn't realized this and since I wasn't at the colonoscopy, I'm not really sure how they "ruled out" Crohn's disease.

Thankfully, our primary physician is also gravely concerned about the extensive weight loss and has referred us to the GI specialists at Riley Children's Hospital (our second specialist there, since we already take YS to see an outstanding pulmonologist at Riley). They have taken down his history and are securing file information from the other doctors who have seen ES and will be letting us know where that places him on their schedule.

In the meantime, we have been battling the flu. Yah-rah! We missed a family portrait session scheduled for last Saturday because YS was ill. I rescheduled for tomorrow evening. Since I rescheduled, MS had a brief episode Monday night, which rendered him unable to attend preschool on Tuesday. I came down with it on Tuesday. Hubby, with his loss of sleep had it last night into this morning. Unbelievably, just before bed, MS threw up again. I'm hoping it is just a last little flare-up (Please Lord, may I not be up all night fulfilling that undesirable parenting role!). Tomorrow morning, I will be calling Olan Mills to cancel (why bother rescheduling when the next few weeks look pretty full already - regardless of which illnesses choose to linger).

All I can say is, literally, our cup runneth over. Somebody grab a towel!

Not Surprising That I'm a "Yearner"

I was reading the other night about sleep positions and what they indicate about your personality. The article suggests that once you select a sleep position, you are usually unlikely to alter this habit. However, I think that I have had a few different sleep positions over the years and most of them were influenced by something specific, not just a random way I chose to sleep.

As a young girl, I remember that I used to love sleeping on my stomach. I especially remember this, because it was quite noticeable when I found that I could no longer sleep in that position, due to growth into my adult body shape (wink!). At times, I would try to return to that beloved position by placing an additional pillow underneath my belly. Eventually, I gave up and switched to my back.

During my first year in college, my sleep position shifted again, from necessity. I had a room-mate who snored. I mean she SNORED! For a while, I employed the "clapping strategy." I would hang over the top bunk and clap loudly. This would rouse her, just enough to make her turn over or to her side and the snoring would subside for a bit. I tried ear plugs, but found them uncomfortable. In the end, I merely began sleeping on my back with my arms up over my head beneath the pillow (which forced the pillow to serve as a sound buffer to my ears).

If I tried to sleep that way now, I doubt I could manage it, but back then I kept that position for several years. In fact, I was in agony several years ago, when I had surgery on my toe and had to lie on my back with the toe elevated for several weeks. I have become, in marriage, a side sleeper. Perhaps, that is because it was the first time I ever had to share a bed.

Still, I have been wondering if my husband has shifted his sleep position because a year or so ago, I began to find it really difficult to sleep with him. He has always wanted the left side of the bed (as you face it, the right side as we lie in it). I don't remember this ever really being a problem before. Perhaps, I am the one, once again, who has shifted. I think I used to always sleep on my side facing the outside of the bed. At some point, I must have begun to favor facing the middle of the bed and am now discovering that he favors facing the middle of the bed as well. I'm sure years ago that wouldn't have been a problem, but now, I feel like we are breathing right into each other's faces and it annoys me to no end.

Early in our marriage, I also used to sleep on my side, with my hands folded together underneath my pillow supporting my head. For the past five years, though, I find that I experience tingling up and down my arms (to the point where it wakes me) if I try to sleep with my hands tucked under my head. Thus, another shift, I began to sleep with my arms out in front of me or dangling off the side of the bed (which alleviated breathing another's exhaled air).

The above mentioned AOL article, declares this "the yearner position." How apt! How I yearn for a good night's sleep now! Of course, I would say I'm a yearner in other aspects of life, as well.

I guess my husband was "yearning" to share a bed again, because in June he returned to our room. He had been sleeping in the guest room merely because the little boys have been waking so often in the night that it disturbs his sleep and renders him drowsy at work. So, instead, I'm the one who gets to be drowsy at my work! Ha! Of course, if he is drowsy at work at the bank, it could lead to a bit more difficulty than if I am drowsy while tending to the boys at home. I'm sure his customers appreciate his quality sleep!

While it makes me happy to know he yearns to share our bed, I also miss my yearner's position. I think if I'm going to keep this position, we will have to upgrade to a king size bed. It doesn't leave him much room if I sleep on my side of the bed with my arms outstretched to the middle of the bed.

I don't think I really buy the personality assessments, though. My YS often sleeps with his butt up in the air. What does that say about him? It is a variation of what they call the "fetal position" since his knees are tucked up under his chest. Maybe he's gassy. Maybe he's worshiping his bed. Maybe he just wants his derriere to get the best air! I don't care what position he sleeps in, as long as he stays asleep the whole night through!

What a Day This Has Been!

I know, if you are a "Brigadoon" fan, you're expecting me to continue ... "What a rare mood I'm in, why it's almost like falling ..." O.K., not that kind of mood! Thankfully, for MS's sake, I'm already in love with him!

Let's see. After being put to bed at 8:30, MS was still up and coming out and getting in trouble clear until 10:30. So, I wasn't really ready for my morning to begin at 7, but that is when YS has been getting up lately (even though he didn't fall asleep until 9:30 - groan). From the moment my MS came out of his room at 8 this morning, it has been a VERY LONG DAY!

While lying on the floor near the boys, MS kicked me in the bosom. OUCH! If ES had been home, I'm sure he would have offered to kick MS where he might learn how painful such a kick can be. Thankfully, he was at school (but only through tomorrow, then we throw him back into the mix).

Then, while trying to give YS a cuddle, MS grabbed at us in jealousy and managed to produce a gaping scratch on my left cheek, which looks as if I was knifed! Later this morning, I noticed a similar scratch on YS's leg (I'm going to have to cut that boy's fingernails before it looks like we've all wrestled a cougar).

Our microwave finally died on us (my husband has had that dinosaur for twenty-some years - it was a Hotpoint - not even a big name-brand - and his grandma bought it for him in K-mart when was in college) yesterday. So, this morning I had the privilege of trying to find a new one with the two little boys in tow (and one trying to make the transition from two naps to one afternoon nap). There was the usual irritability while shopping, but MS pulled it up a notch by throwing a fit in one store, where he saw something Spiderman-related, and expected me to buy it. It is always fun to listen to his whines, followed by the glare and the hostile expression, "You, MOM YOU!!!"

We came home without success and the boys wanted chicken-and-stars soup for lunch. Mid-way through, MS felt the call of nature and had to leave the table. So, I ended up putting YS down for his nap and waiting for MS to finish, so I could change him and have him finish his lunch and head for his nap. I had cleared everything away but MS's bowl and was bored waiting, so I began to read my Wheaton Alumni magazine.

Alas, I got too absorbed! I looked up to see a chocolate-mustached mouth. He was grinning and trying to wipe his hands and mouth with the dish rag. I asked where the marks on his mouth came from (thinking, "that little scamp probably ate the mini-Snickers bar that hubby had left on the middle of the table yesterday!"). He replied sweetly, "Chocolate. I didn't finish my soup, but I wanted some bessert! (don't ask me why, but this is one of the few words he doesn't say clearly)" I head into the dining room to see the Snickers bar still on the table.

After a confused look, he points to the special box at the end of the table. The special box my husband gave to me on Mother's Day. The special box which originally contained three small truffles and three large (2 in. x 2 x 2) peanut butter cups from the specialty chocolate shop nearby. The special box which cost hubby $14.89. (This, I know, because I gave hubby a coupon for $3 off a $15 purchase, and after he gave me the chocolates, he sheepishly handed the coupon back and said, "it only came to $14.89." I know I was looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I had to say, "surely they had a ten cent candy in the place!").

He ate my last peanut butter cup! I tried to explain to him why that was just WRONG! It would be like me taking his brand new Spiderman toy a few days after his birthday! Just WRONG!

After a nap (at least that was successful), he proceeded to bicker and whine with ES until dinner. At dinner Daddy kept reminding MS that he couldn't go outside until he finished a certain portion of his meal, so he threw his straw, full of strawberry smoothie, across the table at Daddy, scattering pink spots of liquid all over the tablecloth, chairs, Daddy's white shirt, and who-knows-where-else! Daddy handed down the sentence, "no playing outside with Daddy after dinner and he will spend the time in his room." MS proceeded to throw a fit. I tried to calm him down and remind him that his poor choices led to the punishment. He bit my cheek! He didn't get to finish dinner.

Before finishing the supper dishes, hubby came running in with YS. They had a great time outside together, but YS fell and busted open his upper lip. So, with the excitement of bloody boy, belligerent boy came out of his room.

So, I say, "What a day this has been!" And, again, put the two little guys to bed at 8:50, but MS didn't fall asleep until 10:30. Still, before I go to bed, I should say, at least he amused me with two funny expressions today!

We often tease him and say, "Now who do you think did this? I think it starts with a T and rhymes with --------, it's T---------." So, he looked at me today and said, "Who did this? It starts with an M and rhymes with bomb-a, iiiittt'sss Momma!"

Then, I was complaining about how long the dishes were taking to wash up. He suggested, "Why don't you sing the Spiderman song? It will make your work go faster!" Now, I know he got this from the t.v., because I remember hearing it on something he was watching yesterday or the day before. There is clearly a reason God makes 'em so cute when they are this age or they might not make it to another age!

Book Review: Good Night, Sleep Tight

The book, Good Night, Sleep Tight: The Sleep Lady's Gentle Guide to Helping Your Child Go to Sleep, Stay Asleep, and Wake Up Happy, by Kim West, with Joanne Kenen, came out in 2006. Ten years after I first needed this book.

In 1996, I gave birth to my first son and had a very bumpy transition into motherhood. To begin with, he was three weeks late. I had made arrangements to begin my maternity leave from my teaching job one week prior to his due date. That month drove me insane! When he finally arrived via c-section, after two attempts to induce, a breaking of my water, a dose of pitocin, and declining heart tones with every contraction, we discovered that he was fisting the umbilical cord with each contraction. Let me assure you, this is a very appropriate picture of his entry into the world.

We were separated for the first two hours after the birth, and when we met I fell into that delirious love that new mothers experience when your world has been rocked in a way that you never felt possible. Those delirious moments didn't last long enough. They were followed quickly by the realization that, despite years of helping take care of my younger siblings and babysitting loads of other children, I was completely clueless about caring for an infant.

Breastfeeding was the first aspect of care that made me feel like a drowning woman. Try as we might, in the hospital, we couldn't get that boy to latch on. The lactation consultant ended up leaving me in tears, because she went into a personal tirade against my decision to have my little boy circumcised. Then, a nurse offered to help and provided me with a "nipple shield." (If you are an expectant mother - please don't ever take this HELP!) He seemed to finally be getting something, but he refused to latch on without the nipple shield.

The first night at home in our apartment was equally disastrous. Between my husband, my mother-in-law (who had birthed four kids, mind you) and myself, none of us could get this baby to quiet. He would go to sleep and the minute we put him down he would scream. My mother-in-law suggested that we feed him some water. The baby actually took water from an egg-cup that first night.

The first three nights were so similar that finally, my mother-in-law drove us back to the hospital to ask if something was wrong with the little guy. Ah, the condescension you receive. "You have a baby. Babies cry!"

At last, my sister-in-law, Miriam, offered to help. She had been offered the infamous nipple shield as well and her own sister had helped wean her first child from the offensive item! One problem. We lived in IL and she lived in MN. So, my parents came and drove me and the baby to MN (I think it was five days after my c-section - I know for a fact, that it was the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced in my life! and I'm sure there was nothing wrong with my parent's vehicular suspension). Miriam worked miracles and he finally fed properly.

However, at three months in, while on vacation in the home we now reside in, he decided to stop breastfeeding cold-turkey. We drove four hours back to IL to see his doctor and were informed that he had double ear infections and was probably allergic to milk. (I decided to test this theory, because I thought soy formula was more expensive than regular and couldn't they be wrong? NO, after one milk-based bottle, he projectile vomited for five hours - then, I was convinced.)

He persisted with constant ear infections until we had tubes put in when he was 11 months old. It was amazing. Suddenly, he was a completely different baby. Let me just say that I struggled with postpartum depression, we were all severely sleep-deprived and the bonding experience wasn't as smooth as it should have been.

Still, even with tubes, my ES was never a good sleeper. He routinely woke in the night clear up until the time he was five or six years old. When he attended sleepovers, I would have to alert the parents to please force him to go to bed because he literally is capable of staying up all night long. In fact, I began to believe that this child merely required less sleep than the average kid (I knew that my own father would often head to bed at midnight and wake around four or five in the morning to get in some uninterrupted work at the church office and he functioned fine on four or five hours).

According to Kim West, this is just not true. Every child requires a regular amount of sleep, but the theory "sleep begets sleep" also applies on the flip-side, "loss of sleep begets further loss of sleep." This book would have been so helpful back then. As I read, I saw sleep crutch after sleep crutch that I employed with my first son.

Here is a small list of things I did wrong with my first child. I jumped at every cry because we lived in a small apartment. We decided that he was merely a "motion baby" and so we employed motion to get him to sleep constantly. We would swing him in his infant car seat until he fell asleep and then set the seat down ever so gingerly, for fear of waking him. I would drive around in the middle of the night because he was often awake then and screaming. He loved these drives. He would stare out the window at the shadows of lights and houses. He rarely went to sleep as a result of these drives. He rarely slept - PERIOD. At age 2, I would still rock and then sing him to sleep. Clear through age five, I would lie down next to him until he fell asleep (the whole while resenting how much time it took to get him down).

When my second son arrived, I swore up and down that I would not breed another baby like the first. I would not jump at every cry. I would not rock and sing him to sleep. I would put him down in a wakeful state and let him teach himself how to fall asleep. He did just that. He was a wonderful sleeper. When I began to wean him from the night-time feeds, I had to practically hold down my husband to keep him from going in and rescuing the boy with a bottle. I would put the gate down and lie my whole body across his body and whisper, "Baby go sleep, baby go night-night," over and over again. Then, I would leave and return at longer intervals until he returned to sleep. This only took a week and he has always been a fabulous sleeper ... until December of 2007. (Although, he really began to have occasional problems back in summer of 2007 when we moved him to a twin bed - this was when he began to sleep-walk, sometimes waking us, sometimes going back to sleep on a couch or chair.)

My third son was somewhere in the middle. He wasn't a fabulous sleeper like MS, but never as difficult as ES. He, too, was sleeping through the night. I have spent hours trying to determine what happened in December to start our cycle of endless night awakenings.

Here are some of my thoughts: They both had an illness where I jumped up quickly to make sure they were fine. I began telling my MS stories from my head. These are always Spiderman stories and he will often dictate what crisis or event he wants it to be about. I think, after their illness, I was sleep-deprived and I began to lie down with my MS at nap-time to nap with my MS. This was partly due to my exhaustion, but also due to the fact that MS seemed to be fighting naps and the only way I could get him to nap was if I stayed in the room, rocking in the chair and insisting that he lie still and quiet. At some point, I began lying next to him for naps and have continued doing that every day when I want him to nap.

The "Sleep Lady" is right in her theory that sleep-deprivation makes it more difficult to sleep well. I have been experiencing this just as much as the little boys have been experiencing it. I will head to bed exhausted and still find it difficult to fall off to sleep. Yet, my whole morning is compromised because of my loss of sleep in the nights.

So, I have read her informative book - a book I would certainly recommend to anyone who is having trouble with their child's sleep patterns and who is loathe to let them merely cry endlessly. She emphasizes the importance of routines, encourages a "lovey" (which my YS has!) and incorporates a "sleep shuffle" (moving yourself further and further away from the child over a period of days until they are going off to sleep and staying asleep through the night without your assistance and without the endless, unproductive sleep crutches we often turn to).

I will try to make a log of our sleep habits this week and begin using her techniques next week. I will try to alter some of my own bad habits as well (one of which is, staying up too late blogging, she says while staying up too late blogging). I have fully changed my tune with my ES and have informed him that contrary to my previous opinions, he does NOT require less sleep than average and he will have to improve his sleep habits as well (he is forever trying to convince us that no other parents in the world require their 12 yr. olds to go to bed by 9 on a school night and 10-10:30 on a weekend). I have informed MS and YS that if they are not in their beds by 8:30, there will be no "story from mommy's head." We'll try to work our way back to 8 (I have no hope for the 7 p.m., she recommends and I also know this will all be thrown off again when we head to CBLI).

I highly recommend the book, even though it did make me feel like a horrible loser of a parent because I noticed all the myriad of things I have done and am still doing wrong when it comes to training my children in their sleep habits. I sincerely hope that we can get this ship back on course and "leap into dreamland" more effectively, as Bear-in-the-Big-Blue-House says (yes, I have even resorted to searching for sleep-encouraging videos at the library) I'll keep you posted. Until then, good night, and sleep tight!

My First Lengthy Night of Sleep was Earth-Shattering

Last night, I determined to hit the sack the moment the little boys did and stay in the bed as long as possible. I finally managed to get MS down by 9:30 p.m. Does anyone else have a child who manipulates bedtime/naptime with the need to use the bathroom? I am loathe to discipline or send MS to bed when he claims to need this because he has had such issues in this area for a year and a half. But the back of my brain is saying, "yeah right he has to go, really he is just stalling bedtime."

Anyway, I took Nyquil to ensure as deep a sleep as possible. The boys still managed to wake me. Littlest guy was up once, but settled down quickly. MS is the real annoyance. My husband tried to get up with him the second time he got up, but MS proceeded to throw a screeching fit because he wanted to tell Mommy his nightmare and wanted to be rocked. This, of course, woke the YS, but he merely lay there watching the whole thing play out. I still can't get used to waking up and seeing MS's face inches from mine, standing next to my bed. It freaks me out every time!

At 5:30 a.m., I woke because it felt like the house was moving. The closet doors in our room were rattling back and forth. In my grogginess, I thought it was a tornado. As soon as the rattling stopped, everything was quiet and calm. I fell back asleep, but a few minutes later my husband walked into the room. I asked, "What just happened?" and he replied, non-chalantly, "an earthquake." O.K., I rolled over and went back to sleep. Thankfully it didn't wake the two little boys (though ES thought my husband was shaking his loft bed to wake him, until he looked and saw that nobody was even in the room). Go figure, they can't sleep through the night to save their lives (nightmares, hunger, comfort, whatever), yet they sleep through a 5.2 earthquake!

So, wow, when I actually get more sleep than usual (not saying it was a solid night yet) - the earth shakes! Now I can't get that darn song out of my head, "I feel the earth. move. under my feet. I feel the sky tumblin' down. tumblin' down ..."

I went to a government website and reported my response to the effects. It stated that I am almost 200 km. from the earthquake which hit in Southern Illinois along the New Madrid faultline. There were over 36,000 people (from over 2000 zip codes) who took time to record their response to the earthquake.

I'm wondering if my friends and family or bloggy friends felt it, too? DeKalb friends, did you feel the earth move? Cardiogirl, how 'bout all the way up there in Michigan? Did my sister in Mississippi feel it? Some people as far as Georgia and Tennesee were reporting. I'll have to call my brother in Kentucky because I doubt he even knows I have a blog! If you felt it, I claim full responsibility. I can promise you, I probably won't get another good night's sleep for a good long time, so, not to worry!

Solid Sleep - Wherefore Art Thou? Not in the ER!

We have been having sleep issues in our house for four or five months now. I keep telling myself, "This, too, shall pass!" After all, my ES was a horrible sleeper for the first five years of his life (up every night for some reason or other). The first year was the hardest. He battled continuous ear infections (and now that I have had one of those, I more fully understand his temperament back then). He still has difficulty falling to sleep many nights and seems to require less sleep than his peers, but he rarely wakes me in the night.

I suppose the really difficult thing is that both of my younger boys have been fairly good sleepers in the past. When I had my MS, it was like a dream come true. He slept four hours solid the first night home and within a few weeks was sleeping at least six hours straight most nights. I couldn't believe that he slept 12 hours a night. My disbelief was almost equivalent to the disbelief I had felt years earlier when others had given me that sage advice "sleep when your baby sleeps." To that, I would have said, "You mean babies SLEEP? Mine doesn't. Not for more than a half hour at a time."

And my YS had settled into a fairly good pattern as well. He used to go down easily, stayed asleep and when he did whimper, would merely roll over after a few moments and fall back asleep. I kept his crib out in a front room for longer than I expected, just because I didn't want to disrupt the good sleep patterns we had all established.

I don't know what shifted in December, but there was definitely a clear shift. Perhaps it was brought on by illness. I don't really remember. But I know that by Christmas we were concerned about travelling, for fear the little boys would wake frequently in the night and bother others.

Shortly after Christmas, my husband began sleeping in the room off our garage because the boys were waking him so much that he couldn't function well at work. Both my 3 year old and my 1 year old now wake two to three times a night. Sometimes, they are consoled with a quick pat and fall back to sleep. But most of the time, they want to be rocked or continue to wake repeatedly every half hour.

For the toddler, I tried stickers. Every time he sleeps through the night and doesn't wake me for any reason, he receives a sticker on a good behavior chart. I haven't found that this works consistently. I'd say he gets a sticker two nights out of every seven.

Now that I have moved the crib into my toddler's room, I probably respond more often to the baby. But lots of times, I still let him whimper for a good ten minutes before I get up to respond. The thing is, these sleep interruptions are killing me. The last time I slept through the night solidly, I had taken Nyquil for a cold and informed my hubby that he would have to be available for those two little guys because I would be dead to the world.

So, thank goodness for those TWO NAPS on Friday! I know I was up several times Friday night (the baby was up at one point for 45 minutes straight and would not go back to sleep). My toddler was fighting a cold, so I attributed his disruptions to difficulty breathing and ran the vaporizer. By Saturday morning, both YS and I were also coughing throughout the day.

After our lovely date night, and a bit of blogging, I headed to bed around 1 a.m. At 1:20, I got up because I remembered that I had promised to wash MS's Spiderman outfit and it was still soaking in the rinse water. At 1:45 a.m., YS began to cry. I tried to ignore it, but it sounded like it was accompanied by a suspiciously familiar bark.

Yes, we headed to the ER, AGAIN. Yes, I got there in 15 minutes, AGAIN. Yes, since this is my fourth visit to the ER in three months, they have begun to recognize me (This morning, my ES said rather cheekily, "So, now you can say that somebody knows you around here!" - I wouldn't call ER nurses in a hospital a half hour away "around here"!).

The exact same doctor who treated the baby last month, said "Croup. Didn't I admit him last month for the same thing? You know the routine. We'll give him a breathing treatment. This time, since he's not as bad, an oral steroid (instead of a shot) and then another chest x-ray, and we should have you out of here in about an hour." Well, it wasn't an hour, but it was better than being admitted for a day of observation (and how fortunate that, again, this happened during the weekend).

The breathing treatment was far more difficult this time around. Doctors and nurses all seemed to be the same as our visit a month ago - too bad we couldn't have gotten the same breathing technician. This guy was old and gruff and came in booming my baby's name (which I think made the baby a bit leery to begin with). Next, he tried a Donald Duck voice which sent the little guy into hysterics of crying (not exactly beneficial for someone having difficulty breathing). Finally, throughout the treatment he insisted on holding my baby's head in place to ensure that the inhalation mask stayed in front of his nostrils. He kept saying, "S-----, I wouldn't have to hold you if you would just stay still." I kept thinking, "Dude, he would just stay still, if you would back off and let me handle this." Instead, I held my little guy close and stroked his head, while holding the mask to his face and quietly reminding him, "You can do this ... You've done it before. Momma's right here."

After the steroid and x-ray and an hour of waiting, the baby fell asleep in my arms. We were there for two and half hours and not a wink for me. I tried. I did. Sadly, when I returned home my hubby was up with news that he had never been able to fall back to sleep either. I did get a fat nap with both little guys this afternoon, thank goodness.

The good afternoon naps come with a price, though. At 10:30 my MS was still not asleep, and I was supposed to head to the store to pick up milk and a few other items. Finally, I just lugged him to the store with me. Of course, when I finally got him into bed and headed to the kitchen to put away the milk, my MS proceeded to scream for me (he needed his covers on him - nope, I'm sure he couldn't have managed that himself) and woke the baby. Yeehah!

So, now I head off for my nightly slumber. If I were Chloe, I would write an eloquent letter addressed to sleep: "Dear sleep: If you knew how much I wanted to spend time with you, you would visit more often." (And, yes, I have considered that blogging might be interfering somewhat with my relationship with sleep, but I desire sanity, too.) Instead, I have ordered the book Good Night, Sleep Tight at Catherine's suggestion. I am desperately hoping to discover the secrets of sound circadean rhythms, so my husband can come back to sleeping in our room, we can all get a good night's sleep and I can still find time to blog.