Early Bedtimes For The Win

All households, children and parents are different but in mine, I encourage and work hard towards "early" bed times. I've had this discussion often because most parents I know don't necessarily have many rules about bed time. My definition of early is between 7:30PM and 8:30PM. Late would be anything after that.

Here's the thing, I'm up early always since I had a baby. Sleeping in is 7ish regularly and on some freak occurrence maybe even 8ish. My daughter does not sleep in. She seriously has to be up until 10PM or so with high levels of activity to make it to 7AM. Normally, she is up at 6:30 regularly or even 6 sometimes. 

I love to go to bed early too! I love being asleep no later than 9PM because I'm up at 5 to work out and then I get my 8 hours of rest. I'm very much that person that needs 8 hours of rest and I don't even feel badly about that. 

My kid can fall asleep in a good 10 minutes and early bed times leave room for her to have a better tomorrow. When we all stay up too late, the recovery the next day is rough because we don't sleep in and rarely have the opportunity to nap. I will always champion early bed time.

I think I have one other mom friend who is completely with me on this and it works well in her household also. We both notice pretty intense behavioral shifts when our kiddos aren't rested well enough. 

I don't judge anyone for letting their kids stay up, if you all have the energy to deal with that, power to you, but I guard our routines pretty closely. It took me a long time to realize how much sleep I just need to be a nicer person and the recovery the next day is often not worth the late stuff. There are exceptions, of course, but mostly I'm that "early to bed, early to rise," nerd.

My husband gives me a hard time because I literally attempt to sleep hoard at all times. I feel like if I collect enough sleep, you know like a squirrel collects acorns, I can make it through the sleepless times better. He always laughs, "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

I gave being up late and irresponsible the good college try a few years ago. Not for me, no thanks. 

Lately I've just embraced, or tried to, almost everything that comes along with all this aging stuff. It doesn't bother me. I need plenty of rest, lots of water and to make sure I get some good proteins. The rest is just taking it one day at a time.

The thing I love about the early bed time stuff, is it allows me to go to bed when I need to, instead of trying to get more things done while the kiddo is still up or having to stay up way past them. My daughter throws a fit about how it's unfair that I get to stay up when 90% of the time I'm right behind her for bed time. She then gets pissy when my lamp goes off and I give up and give in to sleep also. It's kind of hilarious. 

My husband used to get annoyed that I went to bed so early and wouldn't stay up late with him for no reason. In turn I got annoyed that he wouldn't go to bed early so we kind of had to find our happy medium. It's a fact guys don't need as much sleep as we do anyway. Throw in the mom factor and no contest, we need all the sleep!

That whole "You can sleep when you're dead thing?" I get it, but sleep is my favorite hobby and I make no apologies anymore. I am every cliche meme about sleep and I own it because between motherhood and the thyroid drama, I am a much much nicer, better, awake, alert and helpful person when you just let me get my rest. Ask my husband!

I admire the moms that stay up late and kick butt the next day. I admire the moms who can still be sweet and patient with their kids up until double digit night times. I admire anyone who is a night owl because I tried and failed at every kind of attempt. What works for your family is awesome, keep it up! I however, always encourage and advocate early bed time stuff because it has worked super well for our household.

Don't get me wrong, my husband lets bed time fly. It's like a fluid concept in his world, but he is only home for bed time two nights a week if even that so this mother hen makes sure the baby chick is in bed so when that rooster crows the next morning, everyone can function! Fourth of July will of course be an exception to the rule as most holidays are but boy is Christmas Eve the absolute most important bed time strictness rule ever. That kid gets up earlier and we have to stay up later with the elves to get it all taken care of. 

So hopefully everyone has restful times and routines and I love to hear about any and all! Happy Tuesday!

Are Unicorns Real?

I remember when Christmas lost it's magic in my adolescence. My parents had been in and out of separation and my dad knew that the jig was up about Santa so they just wrapped the presents and left them under the tree as they bought them. I was about 12, and I was left home alone from time to time when my dad was working extra. So every time I was home alone I'd pick under that tree and shake things to see if I got what I wanted on the list. By Christmas morning all of my predictions were not only true, but it totally took away all the fun and any kind of surprise.

I always loved the innocence of imagination and getting lost in fantasy-type stuff. This is why my favorite movie of all time remains, The Princess Bride. Believing that X-Files was partially true was way better than facing what was going on at home. The idea that Pleasantville was remotely possible was fun to imagine. And I was that almost-teenager at Disney who still wanted to meet characters and believed in the magic of it all. 

My daughter came home the other day and said "Mom, so and so said that unicorns aren't real. Are unicorns real?" I said "Yeah! I definitely think they are," with gusto! Why wouldn't I? Being in the magic with kids, is everything and when they lose that, things get a little less fun.

When I nanny-ed for so long, I used to rebuff any of their "realizations" because I never wanted some kid to ruin it for them. It was my job to protect them, not make them grow up. There is some version of Santa for everyone, but anyone who ruins the magic for my child purposefully might get a throat-punch, just saying. 

At a birthday party last weekend my daughter announced that her mom said there were unicorns and the birthday girl said, "Are there really unicorns?" I said, "I certainly think there are." Her little face lit up.

In my house, instead of Elf on the Shelf, which I have issues with, we have Sandy Klaws. This isn't some thing to "make my child act right." This is a character from A Nightmare Before Christmas, a household favorite movie that carries us from Halloween to Christmas, and all he does is create mischief. Every day she wakes up wondering what he did. It's so fun, and she loves it. Here he is:

She actually believes that Sandy Klaws, who is the size of a Barbie I might add, put together her loft bed on Christmas Eve and rearranged her room. For a second, I wanted the credit because we did all the work after all. The next morning she awoke to Sandy Klaws having put together her dollhouse. Again, I wanted the credit! But the way she runs to school to tell these tales and loves them so much, makes it all worth it.

I love that she believes that the entire realm of My Little Pony exists. I love that at Disney she thinks she's met all the characters from her favorite movies and that pixie dust protects her at home. She deserves to have that fun and innocence and it always makes me sad when kids get jaded out of it. 

By age 13, I was that kid. I got hit so hard by reality that I lost the ability to believe in nonsense. Now watching Mary Poppins and Hook and such, I realize how much growing up stinks and I miss the days where I truly believed that when my cousin got Jumanji for Christmas, we would end up IN the game!

I guard the magic for my daughter, pretty carefully. I fully enforce all magic and whimsy. A few years ago we took my best friend and her 3 almost-teen girls to Harry Potter World, and she said she didn't know who looked like they were more impressed and entranced, me or her children. If you're going to go in, go ALL IN.

At Disney, magic is everywhere and so easy to perpetuate. I never regret any money or time we have spent there because my daughter remembers how much fun and adventure we had in that realm. She recounts conversations with characters and getting autographs. She believes that characters actually bought her those free Mickey Bars she used to get. 

So, damn straight unicorns are real! We live in a world where kids being allowed to be kids is being restricted into smaller and smaller time frames. We keep them so busy and they are so immersed in all avenues of pop culture with social media, they can get jaded more easily. That innocence is a click away from disappearing altogether.

I protect my daughter's magic because that's part of being a mom. I've almost outed the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny out of exhaustion and bad planning, which wouldn't ruin her life, but I just want to give her a stellar childhood to walk into adult life with.

I loved the years of playing with my dolls, make-believe, playing outside, creating weird games, and having fun with my friends. I want more of the same for her and intend to guard it all.

So in my house, Unicorns are real. Santa and Sandy Klaws co-exist only Santa brings the presents and Sandy Klaws brings the silly. The Easter Bunny is real. The tooth fairy is real. When she hits her Harry Potter phase she better know that wands are totally real but won't work unless she's at Hogwarts and she can apply to Hogwarts if she wants. 

Whether other parents like it or not, I intend to be the Czar of Majestic Whimsy and will tell your children all magic exists. Even leprechauns, which are slightly offensive to gingers depending on the connotation, just saying. Stay innocent while you can, I intend to keep my kid that way as long as possible. 

The Dollhouse Diatribe: "Sleep Training" Gone Wrong

Disclaimer: it may be best if this information never reaches my eldest sister but it's the internet. Anything is possible.

So when I was 5 years old my mom bought me a Playmobil Victorian Dollhouse. It was apparently the coolest of the Playmobil collection and could come with up to 3 floors plus attic. Of course, I had the 4 story Victorian Dollhouse with all of the accessories. Both of my half sisters came home from college and were conned into helping put this thing together.

Playmobil was a kind of more girly version of Legos, in my opinion. As an 80's kid I remember Legos being very much marketed towards boys. My little boy cousins had everything Lego and I lived in a world of Playmobil. I recall having the dollhouse, the circus (which may or may not be in possession of my youngest cousin still) and the zoo.

So the Victorian Dollhouse (seriously, google it) had so many pieces and was all assembly required. We are talking curtains, wallpaper, window inserts that open and shut, fencing, porch additions, and the ones my sisters still mention, flowers in window boxes, on every window on three full floors. All of this they did on Christmas Eve decades ago.

When my parents split when I was 16, my dad packed up the dollhouse, intact. When it got shipped to me, it wasn't in the very best shape with some broken pieces but all easily glue-able and still fully functional. I took it apart and packed it properly in all kinds of bubble wrap. 

The Dollhouse followed me from Pennsylvania to Delray Beach, Florida, to 7 different addresses in Eugene, Oregon to 4 different addresses in the Tampa Bay area. While at address number 3 of four in Tampa Bay, 1 of 2 in Safety Harbor, my sister flew down 3 Christmases ago when Luna was about to be 3 to help me put together the Dollhouse for her all over again. Because my sister was here, my husband was able to just hang with my brother-in-law with no dollhouse responsibility.

As we had some wine and I annoyingly sang "Do you wanna build a dollhouse?" in the tune of the Frozen hit, "Do you wanna build a snowman?," we got it done on Christmas Eve. Luna liked the dollhouse but was still pretty young. This was one of those cases when I just couldn't wait for her to have it.

Fast forward to a new house and the dollhouse came intact just before she turned 4. My mom moved into our new grown up house with us and it was the first time my daughter had had her own big kid room. She had co-slept with us (see car accident posts) much later than I had ever imagined but I just thought she needed a room that was her haven.

She seemed to be okay with some snuggles and didn't have any potty issues at night, but then started having crazy nightmares that made her scared of her dream. She ended up in our bed and driving us all crazy for so long, me most. It was ugly. I was not getting sleep, so much that I literally asked friends if I could come to their homes to nap. They all thought I was being silly, sarcastic Alison. No seriously, I just wanted uninterrupted sleep. We were way past infancy. This was not okay.

You know how you make all these decisions based on "I'd never do that with MY kid?" Well, hear comes one to rear it's ugly head. Much like I said a dog would never sleep in bed with us and our pug is like an extra pillow, I maintained that Luna would sleep in her crib and her own bed, even if it was in or very close to our room. 

By nine exhausting months, 4 of me working 12AM to 6AM from home for HSN, we were fully co-sleeping. I was so exhausted of the "Isn't she sleeping through the night by now?," commentary that made the mom shame almost as heavy as my eyelids. The kid took her place in the bed and didn't leave for years. In fact, I was making her a big kid room at our old place when we got in the car accident and with her recovery, left her another 3 months of HAVING to sleep next to me as she was in casts. 

Back to age almost 4 and I'm discussing my sleeplessness with everyone and none of my tricks or bribery or anything are working. I'm starting to suffer in more ways than one when finally a close friend and mother of two, and by far the sweetest, most calm and patient mother told me that they had gone through the same thing with their daughter, also calm, quiet and polite, and they had to sleep train her by reversing the lock on the door and locking her in there for about a week. "The first nights are the worst. I had to wear headphones because of the crying," she admitted.

I was in shock and awe and I thought, "I could never do that...could I?" Finally, with my mom going out of town for the night and my husband working with no possible return until at least 3AM, I planned for the lock in. I had to. I couldn't take it anymore.

So, alone, on a weeknight I planned it. It did not go well. Luna was screaming so loud and crying and screaming I was actually afraid that, being so new to the neighborhood, I might get the cops called on me for child abuse because she was loud, much like her mother. It was HORRIFIC. 

She screamed for a good 30 minutes and then the destruction began. I heard things being hurled at the door. First small things like stuffed animals and books. But then I heard what sounded like heaps of plastic. I wanted to rush in there but I couldn't cave! I had to stay strong.

The kicking and screaming subsided a bit and I knew she was still in there awake so I went to check. It looked like a hurricane hit and she had taken the dollhouse apart in pieces and chucked it at her locked door. The mama bear, hurt child who saw a precious toy that I saved and shared in pieces all over the floor of the house I worked so hard to get turned me into a MOMster. 

Somehow I didn't unleash any unfavorable words I just kept yelling in some kind of loud but even tone: "This is not okay, unacceptable behavior. This was a very very bad choice and this is not okay. You broke the dollhouse! You broke this from mommy and it was mommy's and you broke my heart! You heart mommy's feelings!" 

I picked up the dollhouse pieces only and put them in bags and boxes, like shattered wreckage from the destruction, and locked her back in. If I recall I had a couple glasses of wine. Alone and tired and filled with tears we both gave up in our own rooms. That was the only night we ever had to lock her in and it was BRUTAL, especially alone.

The dollhouse stayed dormant and resting for 2 Christmases until it's resurrection this past holiday. After everything my sister did for me and that dollhouse TWICE, I never had the heart to tell her Luna destroyed it. When I told my best friend she told me that she gave her youngest her American Girl doll too young and her little one covered her doll's entire face in "T's" to mark her territory and she learned to be very careful in sharing too quick because if they aren't quite old enough, they can't truly appreciate the gravity of the gift.

Side note, I have 2 American Girl Dolls awaiting Luna. She may not get them until she's 20. But, she did get the dollhouse again this past year. It was my 2nd time assembling and my husband's first. He learned quickly this was no small feat.

This time it is different. She loves it and appreciates that it was mine and how special it is. That poor dollhouse definitely won't survive her, or it may very carefully but it has seen a lot. As far as sleep training? I hate that phrase and sometimes hate that I ever did that, but I think she's better for it. She still visits us nightly but it is worlds better now. We also still have the locks switched to keep her in and that's always a fun threat...I would take the dollhouse out first though if it came to it again. Plus then I could play without her rules!

"Chriss-Mas" Time

“Your excitement for the holidays is creeping me out a little bit,” says my husband the day after Thanksgiving, as I order a Starbucks Christmas Blend and ask which radio station is playing Christmas music for the rest of the year. I looked at him with crazy, childlike Christmas, eyes and whine, “But it’s Christmas, and this year we’re staying home!”

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some big family Christmas celebrations. For the last two years we’ve been lucky enough to fly up north, see snow and our relatives and nestle up by the fire, exchange gifts, laugh, eat too much food, drink too many festive cocktails, and even paint cookies. But this year, we are having our first, married “Chriss-Mas,” at home!

My bestie and her beau are “Grinch's.” They hate Christmas, and that’s okay but for some reason this year I’m on some strange Clark Griswold, circa “Christmas Vacation,” “You-MUST-be-cheery,” tangent. I’m making the puppy a stocking, and even making and filling stockings for the “Grinches” too. I’m trying not to go spend $50 on Christmas movies because I’m sure they’ll all be on TV and Netflix soon enough, and I’m fighting every urge in my body to just keep “Elf” on repeat, 24-7.

Perhaps I caught the Christmas spirit bug, or perhaps I’m just excited to be with the people I love, but we are planning a truly, awesome Chriss-mas. My dad was coming to visit and we were going to get a tree, I’ve been crafting things left and right. I was determined to make this year perfect.

The image was already imprinted in my mind, along with ideas for other projects: Christmas morning with coffee, a grand breakfast with mimosas, lazy in our pajamas opening presents, watching “A Christmas Story” and “Elf,” all day, later having a big dinner with the bestie and her man complete with ham, pie, carbs and everything. It just has to happen this way.

Christmas is one of those holidays that come with mixed memories and drama, but even without my dad staying through the holiday, we’ve managed to keep it pretty relaxed so far. We got the biggest tree we’ve ever had and decorated it while watching, “Christmas Vacation,” and laughing. It was the first time I’d decorated a tree with my dad in over 5 years. Those are the moments that make me want to have an epic Christmas. We made cookies and my cousins bought us Christmassy flowers, someone even bought me a poinsettia, even though I truly hate those things it certainly makes the house have a holiday feel.

I majorly cut back on Christmas shopping this year. I had some strange crisis of conscience where all of the sudden I was guilt ridden for not being able to afford gifts for everyone and their brother, sister and mailman. I had to stop myself: this is exactly how the Grinch came to be. Christmas shouldn’t make you feel bad. It’s harder and harder to get in the spirit each year. Sure when you’re around kids it’s contagious, but why feel bad when you should be concentrating on what it’s all about: the togetherness, tradition and family, not just presents, or lack thereof.

My best friend has three amazing girls all under age 10. Somehow, unbeknownst to her, she’s managed to instill the idea that Santa only brings one gift. Family shares plenty of gifts but Santa only brings one. As you can see, my best friend is a genius. This makes Christmas even more special. I want that feeling; of asking for something that really means something, instead of more crap to call your own, and hoard.

My husband kept asking if I could have anything, what would it do, and I got depressed because all I could come up with was appliances but really, all I wanted is exactly what I was getting: a genuine, “Chriss-mas:” Me, the man and the pup, a tree, food, Christmas movies, a few gifts and bliss. Because as much as we miss everyone we are far away from, it’s really about this little family, and it’s about time we had our first “Married” Christmas!