The Daily Nusz

Well, I’ve done it.  I’ve officially broken Declan.  My colossally bad parenting has resulted in an immediate need for a swift, painful intervention.  This is worse than the nippy fiasco of  April 24, 2009.

Remember this post? Notice how the third line says, “It could lead to very, very bad things”?  Um, yeah. Well.  About that.

My breakdown in parenting awesomeness started on May 28, when that last post was written.  It started with occasionally letting Declan nap in my bed when he arose from his nap too early.   I’d lay him down at naptime.  If he awoke after sleeping for less than an hour, I’d scoop him up, lay him in my bed, and say sternly, “It’s naptime.  Go to sleep or you’re going back in your crib”.  Acting all deceptively compliant, he’d settle down and close his eyes.  Sometimes he’d even remain on his side of the bed.  It seemed like a win-win situation.  He’d get a longer nap, and I’d get blessed silence for another hour.

And I can’t say that Kevin didn’t warn me.  On a couple of occasions, Kevin could pull down the covers at night and pull out one of Decky’s crumpled blankets.  I’d foolishly try to defend my actions, saying things like, “I thought we’d just play on the bed so we wouldn’t wake up Savannah”, or “I thought I’d just get him to settle down, then put him back in his crib”.  It was pathetic, really.  All lies.

I keep telling myself, “Well, he’s going to grow out of needing a nap anyway . . . what’s the harm of letting him sleep with me for a couple months?   It’s not like he’s sleeping in our bed at night.”

Simultaneous with this breakdown of naptime protocol, Dec starting getting up insanely early.  Like, at 5:45 am.  The second the sun drifted over the horizon, he was up.  His eyes would open, he’d immediately propel himself into a standing position in his crib, and he’d whimper.

“Mommy.”

“Mommy.  All done.”

“Mommy.  Wake up time.”

“Mommy.  Mommy!  Mommy.  Eat time.”

What started out as whimpers and whines quickly progressed to crying.  Then screaming.  Then screaming interspersed with hiccuping and gasping.  All within about two minutes.  By the time I entered his room to comfort him, I think he had said “Mommy” at least 437 times.

So I hung curtains in his room.  Then I hung blackout curtains behind them.   It was nice and dark.  That worked for a few days.

Then I decided that I would enter his room, inform him that it was still night time, and leave the room, determined to let him cry until the decent hour of 6:30 am.   This did not work (although it was torture listening to him cry, so there is a small chance I didn’t really implement this intervention for a long enough time to promote it’s effectiveness).

This next detail is where my most significant amount of shame enters the picture.

When he started waking up early (prior to 6:30), I’d pick him up and bring him in the bed with us.  The first time I did this (on a Saturday morning), he slept in our bed until 8:30 am.  8:30 am!  It was like a sleeping miracle.

Which reinforced my poor choice.

Of course, he’s never really done that since.

But the kicker?  The moment of clarity when I truly knew in my heart that I had robbed my son of his ability to sleep independently?

It happened this morning at 6:08 am.  I heard him shriek, “Mommy’s bed!  I want Mommy’s bed!”.

It’s like the record stopped.  Errrrrrrrk.  Mommy’s bed?  My kid is demanding to get in Mommy’s bed?  Where on earth did he get the idea that he could choose to sleep anywhere aside from his crib???

Shit.

This is entirely my fault.

Now what?