Preschooler Sleep Training: Plans A-E

Do you have a preschooler who fights sleep with all his might?



rock-a-bye
this
motherfuckers


Is he or she finally falling asleep at 10:30 pm, yet still rising at the regular wake-up time?

Is he or she acting like a depraved psychotic demon from hell because he or she is so fucking tired?

Don't worry!

I have a simple seven-step plan to get your child sleeping like the angel he or she used to be, in only ONE NIGHT!

And if that plan doesn't work?

DON'T WORRY!

I've got Plan B locked, loaded, and ready to tranq-dart your little sweetie-pie face-down into the dirt/dreamland on night 2.

And if that plan doesn't work?

DO I LOOK WORRIED?

Hell no! Because I've got PLAN C waiting in the wings, and Plan C is just like our country, young, scrappy, and hungry, and is not throwing away its shot to neutralize your child's late-night nutties on night 3!

And if THAT plan doesn't work?

BABY GIRL REST YOUR HEAD. I GOT YOU.

You know why?

- Because we are smart, strong, and we stick together.
- Because we can solve any problem.
- And because out of sheer necessity and my all-too-human need to feel in control of shit that I absolutely cannot control, I have exactly the same number of bedtime plans as I do nights left of my life.

SO! Who's ready to get some SLEEP?

Or at least, who's ready to get their kids down by 8, 8:30, so they can binge-watch Netflix while matching socks and drinking, like, possibly a little too much wine for a weeknight but it's fine just pretend you're Spanish.

#ViveElSueño



PLAN A:

1. Begin by drawing a warm bath with soothing essential oils.

2. Turn on the sounds of swinging in a hammock under a warm blanket by the ocean.



3. Hum "You Are My Sunshine" as you slip buttery-soft pajamas over the silken skin of your fresh, clean, yawning child.

4. Read 3 stories in the velvety voice of an NPR host.

5. Lay the child in his bed and draw up the covers.

6. Give him three kisses on his forehead and whisper in his ear that you love him to the moon and back.

7. Lights out.


PLAN B: 

1. Begin by drawing a warm bath with... "CHICKEN? WHERE ARE THE OILS? DID YOU TAKE THE OILS?"

2. Turn on the sounds of swinging in a hammock under a warm blanket by the ocean. Turn it on LOUDER.

3. Take deep breaths as you jam your child's octopus arms into pajama sleeves.

4. Read 3 stories in the velvety voice of an NPR host on meth.

5. Drop the child in bed and pull up the covers.

6. Give him three kisses on his forehead and whisper in his ear that it's time to sleep now, so stay in bed, I'm not fucking around, stay in bed, seriously.

7. Lights out.



PLAN C:

1. Begin by drawing a warm bath with dish soap.

2. Turn on the sounds of swinging in a hammock under a warm blanket by the ocean, so loudly that your child's mouth is just moving to the sound of waves and creaking.

3. "THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO PICK YOUR PAJAMAS. I AM COUNTING TO 3 AND THEN I AM PICKING YOUR PAJAMAS. 1. 2. 3. OKAY. I AM PICKING YOUR PAJAMAS."

3b. "I could not have been more clear about the window you had to pick your pajamas."

3c. "If you wanted fire truck jams you should have picked them when I told you it was your chance to pick. Now you're wearing dino jams and if you want fire truck jams so badly you can pick them tomorrow night when it's time to pick. Because if I don't draw the line here, then where? Where, child? WHERE?"

4. Over the sounds of your child screaming "FIRE TRUCK JAMS," read 3 stories in the velvety, yet not-quite-hidden-rage voice of an NPR host interviewing Paul Ryan.

5. Point to the bed. Point to the covers. Oh, come on. You're not a monster. The child has hands, for God's sake.

6. Give him three kisses on his forehead and whisper in his ear that you heard scraping and growling sounds under the bed earlier and you pray you'll see him in the morning.

7. Lights out.



PLAN D:

1. Begin by drawing a warm bath. Drop a washcloth in the bath and then use that washcloth to wipe the face, hands, feet, and butt of your child while he stands naked on a towel. This was his request. You are raising the next generation of hobos.

2. Turn on the sounds of swinging in a hammock under a warm blanket by the ocean and realize for the first time that it sounds a LOT like a human woman who is literally at the end of her rope. She sounds so peaceful, now.

3. "THAT'S IT, NO PAJAMAS TONIGHT. NOPE. PAJAMA DRAWER IS CLOSED. WELL THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE PICKED PAJAMAS LIKE I TOLD YOU TO DO."

4. Call to your partner in an eerily calm voice and say, "I am hollow. The light that once shone inside me has gone out and I am a cold, dark, empty shell of a person. It is your turn to read the books."

5. Leave the room, pour a scotch, and assume that your partner has put the child in bed.

6. Stare into the mirror at a face you no longer recognize and believe that your partner has both kissed and whisper-threatened your child to stay in bed.

7. Lights out.


PLAN E:

1. Invite your parents to come visit. When they ask what they can bring, ask them to bring over pizza for dinner.

2. When they arrive, lock all the doors behind them and then say, "Wait, I forgot the salad in the car! I'll go grab it."

3. Go out (DON'T forget to lock the door behind you again), put the Subaru in neutral and push it down to the end of the driveway. Grab the duffel you packed and stowed in the bushes at naptime today, then get in the driver's side and wait with your hand on the key.

4. Wait for your partner to crawl out through the bathroom window, dash to the end of the driveway in evasive swerving maneuvers, and tuck and roll into the passenger seat while you pound the steering wheel shouting "GO GO GO!"

5. Turn your cell phones off.

6. Return at midnight. Apologize to your parents and offer to host Thanksgiving in recompense. Assume that because the kids are both alive and asleep, they must have done fine. Text your partner's parents and ask them if they want to visit tomorrow.

7. Lights out.


aw
awwwww
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww
i love them so much
when they're sleeping



One for real recommendation though:



This thing
is
AWESOME.

I can't even describe...
it's like
Manchurian Candidate
meets
Good Night Moon.

You're welcome.

___

If you read this far, you must have liked this post (either that or you're breastfeeding at 3 am and you've got like 15 minutes of free time on your hand.)

If you do like this blog, please help me keep it going!

1. SHARE 

Tell people about it - email your peeps, share KatyKatiKate on your social media, or tag a friend who you think would enjoy these posts.

2. FOLLOW 

Make sure to like/follow me on FB. I swear, I only post good shit there and nothing spammy or selly. I post wacky/hilarious/terrifying shit my kids say, funny links, and blog posts, and that's seriously IT.

3. SUPPORT 

Consider paying me $3 or $5 a month for my work - think of it as a wicked cheap subscription to your own personal sanity magazine. Or you could imagine you're treating me to coffee (or, you know, coffee and a muffin, if you decide to drop a Lincoln on this ish) once a month. 

4. SAY HI

Email me! Do you have a comment, a question, a problem, an issue that you'd like to see explored in blog form? I promise to protect your anonymity so nobody will ever know it was you who asked about sex after baby, Shmimberly Andersom from Bleattle Washingtub.

Thanks for reading, comrade! 

xoxo



0 comments:

Post a Comment