Have you ever wondered what a text conversation between Andrew and I looks like? Well, here's one from last week:
I can't do sleep training. I'm going to find whoever came up with it and punch them
brutally in the face. With a feather duster filled with pepper. Cayenne pepper.
Satan is the father of all lies, misery, and sleep training.
What is the purpose in abandoning your child to cry himself to sleep?
Are we trying to teach him that no one hears him or cares?
And leaving your child to sleep in a puddle of their own snot and tears seems cruel.
I bet flies and mosquitoes were in on the sleep training plotting committee. Few other creatures could be so vile and heartless.
There is no joy or beauty any more. Only sadness, tears, self-loathing, and a lot of snot.
I'm going to take one of those giant nerf guns with the big rotating rounds, and instead of darts, I'll use eclairs. Only instead of delicious eclairs, I'll make them of salt pastry cream flavored with anti-plague, and use playdough instead of profiterole. That way, when the hard-hearted stone creature who thought sleep training was a great invention gets hit with eclairs, he'll get excited and eat a bunch- and then he will be ingesting agony of the acutest sort, agony second only to sleep training. The agony of disappointed taste buds.
The church is true. That means that somehow Charlie knows that I don't hate him and the Evil One will get his just rewards. Rap, tofu, hangnails, overly scratched DVDs that won't play, and eternal spinach between the front teeth are just a few of those rewards.
The Princeling is asleep now, but I'm too emotionally drained to shower. I'm going to go undo my morning workout by drowning my sorrows in the leftover brownies. And maybe some apples and peanut butter.
If you and Hermione ever dueled, you would crush her. She wouldn't even know what hit her. She'd never stand a chance against you.
Such anger has been stirred in this mother's breast! Anger fueled by sorrow great, and woe unbounded. Anger seethed with lust of vengeance, vruel and swift. Anger shall bring this mother forth with haste, anger shall make her hunt brief in its rapidity, and anger shall make her heart deaf to the pleading of her prey. Anger shall deny her quarry of any refuge, anger shall defy her quarry's every attempt of respite, anger shall decry her quarry's infamy and disrepute. Anger shall be her release, and his captivity.
And thus we see that hell hath no insanity in pursuit of vengeance like a mother of child scorned.
All done now.
Charlie woke up again, so I ran in there, seized him to me, and now we're cuddling and eating. :)
...can I quote you on any of this?
I like cuddles.
Not too soon to ask, I hope.
Quote me? Like in a paper, or everyday conversation? Because if in a paper, we need to work out in-text citations.
So... um... how is your day going? Anything interesting happening?
Has the lad recovered from the traumatic episode? Have you?
This day will go down in history as the day we all died on the inside. In other news, yes, we are doing a little better. How are you? :)
Now for a bit of commentary:
Tashya: "I said what I said and I'll stand by it until death."
Andrew: I would like to make a few points.
First of all:
Voldemort is lucky that Tashya is not in HarryPotterLand (and as it turns out, Sauron and Middle-Earth too, respectively).
I think I now more fully understand the language of the Old Testament. It's very possible that Isaiah, Jeremiah, and others simply had children who would not sleep well.
I think the little chap is doing even better than normal after the last couple of nights of this. His mother, however, is at wit's end.
And now for a bit of art inspired by the above:
And one final note from Tashya:
Charlie really is a grand and wonderful baby. None of this is a reflection on him, of course - just the evil souls who thought up the idea of putting a baby through something like this.
I would like to give thanks to people who were willing to lend me some great books, and share some personal experience with me. Rachelle, that book you recommended was pivotal in giving some insights. It makes a big difference if you understand what you baby might be trying to tell you about his sleep needs. So thanks.
Also, Charlie did really well when we tried this at bedtime rather than nap time. There was some crying, but not nearly as much as some other babies. The only good part about this whole thing (other than finding out that I have a penchant for horrendous hexes) was waking up the next morning and seeing the Princeling's happy smile and seeing that he still loved me. Relief and happiness! Charlie is the dream first baby, and always has been. I'm so glad he puts up so well with my parental blunderings. Together, the three of us make up a happy little family, and we feel so blessed. There is more to life than sadness, tears, self-loathing, and lots of snot. Life is actually quite wonderful.