Sleep Training Through Matt's Eyes

Ladies & Gentlemen(?), may I introduce you to my sometimes guest blogger, better known as my husband, Camden's father, & a fabulous sleep trainer. Below is Matt's take on his past month of sleep training:

A month ago, we embarked on a sleep training mission. I have found that you learn a ton about yourself at 4 in the morning when you have had very little sleep in a few days. Below are some of the things I have found myself thinking in the middle of the night while questioning my sanity:

• Everyone thinks that their baby has some amazing, unique talents. Camden does! He has the ability to wake up from a deep sleep and then proceed to not blink for 15 minutes.
• Why does the train conductor downtown lay on the horn at 3:44am? I am convinced that he is not warning anyone of anything. I think he is so pissed to be up at that time and he wants the rest of us to know it.
• Over the past 30 days, I have blamed many things for waking Camden from a fragile sleep. The cat, the furnace coming on, the neighbor taking out the trash, etc. By far the worst? The time I woke him up when I lost my balance after falling asleep while standing up and leaning against his crib.
• One time I had to walk out of the room to prevent my laughter from waking Camden up. He had been waking up over and over again that night. All I could picture in my head was Frank the Tank from "Old School" when he got shot with the tranquilizer dart.

I am so glad Camden has finally adjusted to sleeping because I needed it not only for his sanity but clearly for mine too.

15 month check-up

I hate that I now dread Camden's well baby check-ups. I think Dr. Obsessive really did a number on my nerves all those months ago. And even though I adore his new pediatrician, I can't help but get that familiar knot in my stomach before each visit.

This month, I have been worried about Camden's verbal development. Physically, he's always been ahead of the game: an early sitter, crawler, walker, and runner. His verbal development has been a different story. He didn't start truly babbling consonant sounds until he was 9 months old. Since then, he has added a few words, but still favors babbling. His receptive language, however, is outstanding. For months, he has been able to understand and follow simple instructions. It just seemed to me that his expressive language was lagging behind a bit.

It certainly doesn't help matters any that speech posts have been running rampant on my "birth board"-- the community of mothers who also have toddlers that were born in November 2009. There seem to be two types of posts making appearances lately: the "My 15 month old only says 3 words and her pediatrician is referring her to a therapist" post AND the "My 15 month old has 50 words!" post. Both were concerning to me for obvious reasons.

So, I went to his appointment yesterday feeling nervous but hopeful. Dr. Wonderful opened by asking his usual question: "Any concerns you'd like to talk about?"

I immediately voiced my worries about his verbal development.

"Before you say anything else or tell me about his verbal skills, let me tell you what he should be doing. He should be saying 3 words. Probably Mama or Mom, no, uh-oh, or something along those lines."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Camden does have 3 words, and he demonstrated just how well he can use "Mom" in context when Dr. Wonderful was trying to take his measurements and he reached for me while screaming, "Mooooooooooooooooooom!!!!"

He did say, however, that he should have 12 words by his 18 month appointment. So, based on a fantastic mom blogger's recommendation, I ordered him some First Words Flashcards and we're going to read and practice and read some more. I want to do everything I can to help him get there.

And, just because it's been such a popular topic in my posts, I'll give a weight update: Camden has gained a pound and a half since his one year appointment. He is weighing in at a whopping (ha) 20 lbs, 8 oz. He's still holding steady in the 5th percentile for weight and has been consistently following his own curve for months now. My skinny guy is tall, though: he continues to be in the 75th percentile for height. After taking his measurements, Dr. Wonderful looked at Matt and said, "He's built just like you. He's going to be able to eat whatever he wants and not gain a pound." Must be nice!

Overall, it was a good visit. Dr. Wonderful declared Camden to be "perfect" before saying his goodbyes. My goal is to walk into his 18 month appointment completely relaxed, my stomach void of those familiar knots. I'll just have to remember to leave the Crazy at home that day.

The Lunacy of the Early Days

My earliest days of parenting still make me laugh.

I don't care how many books you read while pregnant or how prepared you think you are---nothing prepares a first-time mom for the earliest days of motherhood.

I think we all start off pretty confidently. When I started to get nervous about impending motherhood while pregnant, I'd simply remind myself how much experience I had with children:

• My brother is 8 years younger than me. Growing up, I did a lot of caring for him while my parents were at work.


• During my summer breaks from college, I taught a 3-year-old preschool class.


• During high school, I tutored elementary & middle school students in reading & math.

See?! No need to worry! I was going to be a pro, I just knew it.

Only, I overlooked a few flaws in my logic. Having your kid brother tag along with you on dates? It's nice and all, and probably not something a lot of teenage girls would be up for, but it hardly qualifies as parenting.

And, when considering my preschool teaching days, I conveniently overlooked the fact that newborns generally don't pop out of the birth canal potty trained & with a fairly extensive vocabulary. I mean, mine didn't.

I don't even have to explain why my "But I was a tutor!" reasoning was flawed. For some reason, helping an eighth grader solve an algebraic equation doesn't really translate to helping a screaming newborn learn how to latch on to nurse.

So, as prepared as I thought I was, I just wasn't. At all.

Two experiences in particular illustrate the incompetence of my early days with Camden better than I could try to explain in words:

When Camden was only a couple of weeks old, a construction worker in our neighborhood cut an underground power line. It was winter, it was freezing outside, and we lost power. Matt had gone back to work. I was alone with a newborn & my house was freezing. Enter: Panic. I bundled Camden up and huddled under a blanket with him on the couch. Surely, the power would come back on soon. Only, it didn't. I watched as our thermostat dropped from 70 to 67 to 58 degrees.

Now, this might prove to be a very tough situation if we had been snowed in. Or, if I lived in the middle of a hundred acre farm with no neighbors or relatives for miles & miles. Or, if I didn't have a car. None of these obstacles existed. In fact, my parents are only a 30 minute drive away. And my sister? Well, she lives a few houses down from us. And she hadn't lost power that day. So, why was I panicking? Hormones, I guess. And new motherhood.

I called my mom who instructed me to walk down to my sister's house. I very clearly remember crying and telling her that I couldn't get Camden and myself ready ALL BY MYSELF! And then, because she is fantastic (and because she was probably a little concerned about my mental state), she drove all the way to my house to drive Camden & me to my sister's house-- just down the road. Ridiculous, I know.

And, my second Early Days Parenting Fail:

Camden was probably 3 weeks old. He was sleeping on my chest while Matt and I watched TV. All of a sudden, he sat up, turned bright red and gallons of projectile spit up came flying out of his mouth. I screamed. And handed him to Matt. And then screamed some more. And yes, I asked Matt if I should call 911. Can you imagine how that call would've gone?

Dispatcher: 911, what is your emergency?

Me: It's my son! A bunch of white stuff just came flying out of his mouth!!! SEND HELP IMMEDIATELY!

Dispatcher: Ma'am, are you telling me that you need an ambulance because your son just spit up?

Yes, motherhood is tough-- especially in those earliest days. It doesn't matter what titles you've held on your resume in your previous life. And it doesn't matter that you spent your entire pregnancy engrossed in "Babywise" and "The Happiest Baby on the Block". It's still a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, trial and error learning experience.

But it's also the most amazing, fulfilling, rewarding, and humbling experience you'll ever have.

A Hodge Podge of Busyness

When Camden passed out in his crib tonight, I have no doubt that it was due to sheer exhaustion.

Simply put, we have been B-U-S-Y. I've always considered there to be two types of busy: good busy and not-so-good busy. Being busy with errands and cleaning and homework? Not so good. But being busy with friends and family and travel? It's a very good thing.

And, fortunately for us, we have been good busy.

My parents recently purchased a lake house on the border of Virginia & North Carolina. Matt, Camden, & I took a little road trip this weekend to help them move some furniture. (Actually, Matt helped my dad move a mattress into the house and then the rest of the time was spent helping them relax, play with Camden, drink wine, go out to dinner, and take walks outside. We're generous like that.)

Camden loved being at the lake. He operated in one speed all weekend: turbo. He ran from room to room, inspecting the house and slamming doors. He ran up and down hills outside. And then, when we went out to dinner, he ran around the restaurant, pointing to anything & everything, making friends everywhere he turned. We were all looking at each other like Who is this kid? Has this whole shy thing been an act all along?!

Another thing happened at the lake later that night: I solidified the end of my co-sleeping career. Though Camden has been in his crib at home for a few weeks now, we shared a bed at the lake. Maybe Camden forgot how to have a bedmate. Or maybe I just got used to having my own space to stretch out. Whatever the reason, very little sleep was had that night. Camden tossed and turned, finding it impossible to fall into a deep sleep. I stared at the ceiling while being kicked in the ribs by tiny arms and legs, flailing about in frustration. So, goodbye Co-Sleeping. It was fun while it lasted. But we are over. For good.

After a sleepless night, we headed home early the next morning. We unpacked our bags, attempted to squeeze in a quick nap, and then got ready for a visit from a childhood friend of Matt's. His friend was stopping through town with his wife and 5 month old son and we decided to take them out for an afternoon at our local Life & Science Museum. We checked out the butterfly exhibit, watched some bears rolling around, were grossed out by the roach display, & watched Camden laugh his head off at a duck bobbing around in a small pond.

Enjoying the museum with Daddy:

Truth be told, he probably had the most fun just going up and down the stairs at the museum. Over and over and over again. Mommy's thighs were burning at the end of the day.

So, yes. We were busy. And now we're back home and the company is gone and we've returned to our normal routine. But this week? We're going to have spring-like temperatures. So, I do forsee some more Good Busy in our very near future.

And, just because it was brought to my attention that I've been somewhat slacking in the picture department, I'll leave you with a couple of recent pictures:

Those top teeth were a nightmare and a half while they were coming in, but they sure are darn cute!


Any day that it's not unbearably cold, we play outside. This boy is an outdoor kid through and through. It doesn't matter what we do-- play ball, take a stroller ride, run around the front yard, or push one of his walking toys-- as long as he's outdoors, he's happy.

It's like being with a celebrity.

Going out in public with a baby, I'm convinced, is like going out with Oprah or Brad Pitt. People are constantly stopping me to comment on Camden's shirt/hat/hair/face (seriously, one lady at Starbucks told me he had the "greatest face" she had ever seen. Wow!). Today, Mom, Camden and I were at Starbucks (yes, I do spend a lot of time there, if you hadn't figured that out already) and I was stopped by 4 different people the minute we walked in the door.

"Aww, look at him!"

"A little Redskins fan!"

"What's his name?"

"How old is he?"

I practically answer on auto-pilot now. The attention doesn't bother me. I appreciate that everyone thinks I have a cute kid. Cleary, I agree.

BUT in addition to being cute, Camden is also very shy. For a long time, I chalked up his hesitation around new people to stranger anxiety (and I'm sure that's part of it) but I've come to realize that this is also simply his personality. He's a shy, slow-to-warm-up kid. Rumor has it that his mom was the same way.

Around people, Camden typically behaves in one of three ways:

• He loves you, and will give you a big toothy grin and shower you with attention OR
• He tolerates you, and might stare at you with curiosity or just kind of ignore you altogether OR
• He avoids you like the plague. And if you try to approach him, he clings to me and cries.

The latter behavior mostly applies to strangers. Even well-meaning ones like the friendly people in Starbucks.

So, not surprisingly, Camden detests the attention that's showered on him when we're out in public. And it puts me in an awkward situation when I'm trying to acknowledge compliments and be polite but I'm also trying to respect my son's needs. Lately, I'll say a quick word of thanks while Camden clings to me tightly and then I'll walk away to redirect his attention elsewhere.

I came across this article about toddlers with the Shy Personality Type and one line in particular made me laugh and nod my head in recognition & agreement:

"By age 9 months, many easy babies will smile at strangers, but shy kids will frown & cling...they will also study, with intensity, how a game is played before jumping in. Their motto is: 'When in doubt, don't!'"

While Camden is spirited and adventurous around the house (running everywhere, climbing up the outside of the stairs, yelling, laughing, & making his Mommy worry that he might grow up to be a Stunt Man), the second we set foot in our weekly Story Time session, he sits in my lap and observes or stands against the wall and watches the teacher with shy eyes. It's like a totally different kid than my Wild Man who runs throughout the house all day.

I guess if he was an actual celebrity, Camden would be the kind that wears big, dark shades and oversized hats pulled down low over his face so that he's not recognizable to the paparazzi.

It's tough work being a cute kid.

The Perfect Gap

Yesterday, it was almost 70 degrees here on the second day of February. Camden and I were quick to take advantage of the brief reprieve from the cold weather and headed out to the neighborhood playground for the better part of the afternoon. I pushed Camden on the swing while making small talk with a father there with his two small children.

"How old are your children?" I asked him while Camden squealed and pointed out each passing car.

"3 years old and 18 months. They're a year and a half apart," he answered.

"Wow," I said simply.

"Yeah," he replied. "I don't recommend having kids that close in age. It's tough."

An older lady who was standing close by playing with her 2-and-a-half year old grandchild chimed in. "Even 2 years is not enough space! My daughter has her 6 month old son at home and she needs me to take this one a few times a week so she can have a break," she said while gesturing to the little girl next to her.

Now, I only take unsolicited advice with a grain of salt. But I have to admit that this conversation got me wondering: is there an ideal age gap between children?

Camden is 14 months old now. A toddler. I'd be lying if I said the conversation about a sibling for him hadn't come up a time or two in our house. I'm not ready yet, but we have been thinking quite a bit about timing lately.

Only, for us, there are obviously some special circumstances involved in our planning. We're not like the average couple that can say "let's do this!", have a glass of wine, jump in the bed, and stand beaming down at two pink lines on a home pregnancy test a couple of weeks later.

Instead, we have to think about things like will we try on our own? If so, for how long? Will we consider fertility treatments again? What kind of treatments? And for how long?

So, even if we were given an elusive formula to calculate the magical, perfect age gap between siblings, there's certainly no guarantee we could get the timing right anyway. It might take us 2 months to get pregnant. It might take us 2 years.

It's a lot to think about, but not in a negative way. It's still exciting. And so I ask you this: in your experience, is there a Perfect Gap? Or is it simply one of those things that depends on the temperament(s) of your child(ren), your parenting style, your financial stability, and just your overall personal preferences? Please advise, so I can take my official findings back to the playground soon.

I have a fantastic husband.

When it first became clear that it was taking us longer than the average couple to get pregnant, I instantly panicked. I jumped right on Dr. Google and started to come up with all kinds of scenarios about what was wrong with us (kind of ironic, though, that endometriosis never crossed my mind back then). Matt took a much different approach. He was disappointed each month when it wasn't THE month for us, but would always say, "Well, we'll just time things a little better next month. I think we're getting close." At the time, his optimism and calmness was frustrating to me. I wanted him to jump on the Panic Bandwagon so we could get some help. But now, looking back, I know his approach was what I needed at the time-- a rational, calming presence to even out my over-the-top hysteria.

Obviously we did eventually get pregnant (a miracle that I still thank God for regularly). However, being pregnant opened up an entirely different can of worms in my Crazy Kitchen. First, there was a valid reason for concern-- my hCG levels were not rising properly. From the moment I found out that the rise was considered "less than ideal", I threw in the towel and felt defeated. I sulked. And sobbed. I just KNEW the pregnancy was ectopic. Matt, on the other hand, took an entirely different approach. When he read the email from our RE that said that my pregnancy "might still be normal" but it was less likely with the strange rise in hCG levels, Matt focused only on the might still be normal. For me, it was like those words didn't even exist in the email. For Matt, those words were all he saw. The optimism, yet again.

But it's not just his optimism that I admire. It's the fact that he doesn't quit anything, even when things get tough. He frequently reminds me to focus on the "bigger picture" instead of the here and now.

Silly as it might sound, I am in awe of the way he has handled sleep training. Camden had a particularly rough night a few nights ago, where he was awake and crying off and on for 2 hours. Matt stepped out of Camden's room in frustration, after his many attempts to comfort him resulted only in Camden shoving his face out of the way each time. Camden was angry. Matt was starting to feel defeated. I was disappointed, but resigned myself to the fact that this was likely the end of sleep training. "Just go get him & bring him to our bed," I told Matt.

But after a 5 minute breather, Matt headed back into Camden's room & started soothing him in his most patient, loving voice. And you know what? Camden calmed down and eventually went back to sleep. And each night since then has been better & better-- that's all a credit to Matt's optimism ("He'll get this") and persistence.

Matt initially worried that Camden would be mad at him for being the sleep trainer. Each morning, he'd ask Camden semi-jokingly, "Do you still like me?" The funny thing is, Camden seems even MORE attached to his daddy now. He runs to him with outstretched arms when he gets home from work. And he loves to sit on the couch with Matt while they read books together. It's like he wants to tell Matt "I know I'm not always easy to handle in the middle of the night, but thanks for sticking this out with me."



So thanks, Matt, for being a fantastic husband & an even better father.