So I really haven't blogged this January. For the most part I've been in this very good, healthy zen state. Not because life is perfect. Every single one of us has already had a cold in the 19 days that have made up this year. My kids fight like cats and dogs... daily. And my healthy eating is sabotaged every other day by the energy slump that accompanies being a stay at home mom to two toddlers. But almost every day I've found something to be grateful for. I've been able to see the bigger picture. I've genuinely enjoyed my days.
But today I'm coming on here not in my positive, zen state. I'm coming on here for a moment to vent. To clear my mind of the jumble that's being floating around. And hopefully once I've purged these thoughts, I can take a deep breath and just move on.
Before Hartley was diagnosed with ASD, I once saw a meme on Facebook that got me thinking. It was a cartoon a friend posted of a skeleton in a rocking chair that said, "me waiting for my ASD child to fall asleep". At the time, ASD was on our radar for Hartley. I never knew there was a correlation between autism and sleep disorders. The cartoon actually prompted me to research. What I came across is that it is believed that up to 80 percent of children on the autism spectrum suffer from sleep disorders. I remember reading that and thinking it was just another thing that supported the possibility that Hartley had autism.
I can't tell you how many hours I've researched how to get a baby/toddler to sleep. If that number was actually put in front me I'd probably want to cry at the amount of life I've wasted. Napping has been a problem for Hartley literally since infancy. Eventually her doctor told me that Hartley (when she was a baby) could have 1 "morning nap" and 1 "afternoon nap", in which she'd spend a quiet hour in her crib for each. We actually did this all the way up until she was 18 months old, which is when I had Patrick.
There were days as a baby where she didn't nap. Usually she'd nap for one of the hours and not the other. Regardless, I did get a "break".
The older she got the harder naps became and the harder it was for her to fall asleep at night.
Nothing works for her. You name it, we've tried it. Lavender room spray. Lavender Oil in her bath. No screen time for several hours before sleep. A white noise machine. Only calming books. A strict routine. Laying down with her.
Some days she doesn't nap and she still stays up until 10 or 11 pm. Some weeks she'll only nap once (they are supposed to still be napping daily at two years old).
And for a long time I thought I was okay with it. Yes, I'd prefer to have a child with fantastic sleep habits (like Patrick actually!) but it isn't in the cards for me so why dwell? I actually came to this realization a while back, some people's parenting lot is harder than others but if you think about it that way all the time, you'll drive yourself completely mad. So I decided to try my hardest to kick the green eyed monster me who was envious of all the people who had children who napped - even though she still comes out every now and then.
A few days ago Hartley didn't nap. Instead she tore out all of the pages in the Olivia Fairy Princess book I had bought her for her second birthday. She ripped out all the pages and tore them up into tiny little pieces. Brian wasn't happy but I just wanted to maintain my January zen so I just figured we'll buy her a replacement once she learns not to tear up books, whenever that may be. I tried to get her to clean it with me but I ended up crawling around on the floor by myself picking up all these scraps of paper and stuffing them into a trash bag. It hurt to shove the adorable turquoise book cover - this was not a remotely green moment - in the bag but what's a Mom to do, right?
Yesterday afternoon, my zen January streak ended. That woman who calmly crawled around searching for paper scraps was gone. This woman who'd played the Pollyanna game for several weeks just didn't have it in her anymore.
It was another day of Hartley not napping. Now, not napping is annoying, but what I hadn't mentioned is that when Hartley isn't remotely well rested, she is on another level. The vast majority of things she says are just non sensical. She has these super hyper spells. She simply can't focus at all. She's extremely fragile. I mean, the kid has a meltdown if you ask her to take a bite of her pizza dinner. And after a few hours filled with crying, hitting her brother, gibberish, screaming - I just put her upstairs in her room, and I called Brian crying.
I swear, 98 percent of the time I'm this woman who loves that my child is "quirky". I think it's wonderfully endearing that she says it's Christmas on a random Tuesday or tells me "Happy Mother's Day" in January. I laugh about the fact that we listen to the same song over and over again every day in the car (The Peanuts Movie song that Meghan Trainor sings - Better When I'm Dancing). I even have thought about how cute it is that my daughter likes to sleep with random objects in her bed or lines up her fruit loops.
But the past couple no nap days, I'll admit I've thought - I'm not cut out of this. My daughter is almost three and I just want her to rest so she can focus and learn. I want her to get that sleep that helps her grow and develop. I desperately want us to get to a point where I can ask her a question and have her do more than repeat the last couple words back to me.
And I know very well that it could be worse. That thought even makes me feel even guiltier! Because some mothers have kids that don't talk at all; they would kill to be in my shoes. But at the same time, I know most mom's of girls my daughter's age can ask them a question and get something. And the vast majority of the time, I can't. And on the days she can only bounce off the walls and speak extra oddly, I just feel like we are climbing the steepest mountain in the world.
She's getting better and better with her social skills and her language skills but wow, none of that progress is without work. None of it happens without some amount of struggle.
I've become this woman who is almost always okay with that. I actually shock myself at how much I genuinely don't care that my child is developing a little differently or a little behind the curve. The other day when her teacher said Hartley's not at a point where she's ready to start potty training, I actually felt relief! I actually thought, oh the joys of not having to race to hit these milestones because we get to do everything at our own beautiful pace.
But sometimes that woman is nowhere to be found.
I'm writing this not to say, "woe is me". I don't feel that way. But I write this to purge my negative thoughts. To spew them out of myself so I can clear my head and rally on. To get back to my January zen. Because apparently coffee and wine can't fix everything, and some how this space seems to help me.
Today is the third day in a row where Hartley won't nap. It will surely be another long afternoon of jumbled speech and walking on eggshells. But now that I've emptied my frustrations, I feel like I can do it. I can calmly and patiently make it until Brian comes home with a fresh amount of patience and sensitivity.
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