Guest Post: Jennepper.com - The Picture of Perfect Parenting
Lately my wife and I have been dealing with some marital issues. You see, my wife has been seeing someone behind my back. To make things worse, it’s a woman. Don’t worry, I’m not saying my wife is cheating on me in the sexual sense of the word. But in my world it’s almost worse.
It all started when I was sitting at my desk feverishly checking my blog stats when I heard my wife chuckle. I assumed she was reading my latest masterpiece. Then I heard yet another laugh. This one louder than the last. A feeling of pride swelled up inside me. Then I remembered she had already read my post from that day. What was she reading? I confronted her. She brazenly admitted her infidelity and told me she had been reading another woman’s blog for months.
Jennepper.com is a home wrecker. But more importantly it’s a very funny blog written by a very funny mother. If you aren’t already following Jennepper, I highly recommend you do. But…please don’t leave me for her.
Jennepper and I have agreed to swap posts today. Below is a post she wrote recently about her trials in sleep training. I have been going through very similar experiences lately. In fact, as I write this I can hear my little boy screaming his head off and I’m watching the clock to see when it’s time for me to go help him. And….NOW.
Okay, I’m back and now he’s sleeping like a…wait, why do they say sleeping like a baby? Baby’s are horrible at sleeping!
Anyway, without further ado, here is a very funny post from Jennepper.com.
The Picture of Perfect Parenting - via Jennepper.com
The easiest way to screw up your baby’s awesome sleep habits is to talk about how awesome they are.
At the beginning of July, we were visiting with friends who asked about how well Olivia sleeps. Doesn’t everyone? “Is she a good sleeper?” “Does she sleep through the night?” Because they want to know if your baby is good or bad.
If your baby sleeps through the night, it = Good Baby.
If your baby does not, it = Asshole.
Or that’s how people kind of act about it, anyway.
In July? Olivia was clocking 12 solid hours of sleep per night. Not a peep for 12 hours.
TWELVE.
GLORIOUS.
HOURS.
I know what you’re thinking! I do! Smug, smug Jennepper. Someone should really hit you in the face. Preferably with a fist. You are right, and nobody did, but I still have dark circles under my eyes because the very night I bragged to my friends about my TWELVE! GLORIOUS! HOURS! of sleep? The very same night? It turned into more like TWO GLORIOUS HOURS and maybe THREE if I’m feeling generous!
Bwahahahahaha! (That is you. Evil laughing. At me. Because I’m an idiot.)
And so we decided that this absolutely had to stop, and so we were going to let her cry a little bit. Especially because her bedtime routine consisted of 45 minutes of us feeding her and rocking her and shushing her and losing our damn minds while she alternated crying and smiling in our faces after we picked her up out of the crib.
Nothing more infuriating than a baby smiling at you, right?
The first night, I fed her, told her good night, and put her in the crib with a blankie. I left the room and she screamed her bloody head off. I intended to go back to her in 5 minutes, but she fell asleep after 4 and didn’t wake up for 4 hours.
So we’ve been letting her “cry” which usually means about 2 or 3 minutes of whining, followed by 2 or 3 minutes of panting like a dog while she plays with her feet, followed by 5 or 6 hours of consecutive sleep. Her naps have even been really easy with the whole blankie and laying alone crap.
I’m sure I totally screwed myself just now.
Anyway, yesterday morning, Olivia was doing a little whiny, pouty cry that usually means that she will go back to sleep. And OF COURSE I ignored her because SLEEP TRAINING! GAHD! And she did fall back asleep.
An hour and a half later, when we had to leave to go to the babysitter, I went in to find Olivia sleeping peacefully like this:
Titled: Crib of Doom: Good Luck Living Through the Night, Olivia.
And so I did what any good mom would do.
I got the camera. Because, Blog.
I have labeled the photo for you, lest you miss any of the horrible, awful, really bad, no good, murderous things that I subject Olivia to every night.
A: Bumper. Because it’s easier than holding a pillow over her face?*
B: The skirt that I accidentally tucked into the mattress pad like, I don’t know, a month ago? And I stare at it every single time I feed Olivia and I think that it looks like shit but I HATE taking the mattress out of the crib and so I just stare at it and get mad because that sort of thing seems rational at 4 in the morning.
C: Blanket! Blanket! * dangles baby off of balcony *
D: Baybee Thigh. NOM.
E: Other leg, dangerously close to going through the slat. But we are sleep training so Just Deal With It Olivia, GOD, you freaking baby, what could you possibly be crying about now?
F: Bumper of death, not even tied. You know why? Because I found her playing with it the other day and I thought, “Oh hahahahaha! That is hilarious!” and so I left it undone because I am a really, really responsible person. And, you know, because giving her a toy would be almost too much work for me.
Not labeled: Belly Sleeping. The Devil. Wait - I think CPS is knocking on my door.
*OK, I don’t know if that was too awful to type. But seriously? What is the big danger with bumpers? Especially once your preshus can move all around and, I don’t know, stick her legs out of the slats of the crib?
Olivia slept TWELVE GLORIOUS HOURS last night. But I went in to check on her FOUR HUNDRED NOT GLORIOUS TIMES to make sure that she and all of her limbs were actually inside her crib.
Because if they weren’t? I’d need to get a picture of it.
****
This weekend, I’m going to make a new food for Olivia to try and I will take pictures and write a post for all you sooper nice people who asked.
Also? I think you should know that Olivia ate an entire tablespoon of green beans yesterday and seemed to love them. We should have named her Sybil.
And for all you wiley Internetters who find me on FB…I love new FB friends - they make me feel pretty and popular! But can you give me a heads up when you add me? Like, hey, I hate your blog and now I want to hate you on FB, too? Just so I know you’re not a random weirdo who wants to spam me with ads for breast enhancement products (because clearly I do not need them).
