Let me tell you a story about a mattress. This story begins eight years ago, but I'll keep it short. Way back then, Dan and I moved into his parents' house. They were moving out, and they left several pieces of furniture, including their bed. This was really convenient, and we were grateful.

As the years went by, the second-hand mattress became less functional. It's an old Sleep Number job, and it started deflating at odd times. In general, it wasn't ideal. Lucky for us, Dan's parents offered us a like-new organic cotton mattress from a guest bed they weren't using in their condo. They've become our mattress suppliers. Plus: "It's organic!" my mother-in-law said. I guess non-organic mattresses are basically environmental and health disasters. So, that's something to consider.

In any case, we emptied the miniature van and went over to Dan's parents' place to get the mattress. We lugged it to the car and then up the stairs to our room. I made the new bed, and then I lay down on it, ready to bask in its luxury environmental-friendliness.

You guys.

It's rock hard. I'm talking ROCK. HARD. It's like camping in our bedroom. There's no way my wonderful in-laws have ever tested that bed. Or, they have tested it and found themselves high-fiving as we removed it from their home. Dan has had to take Advil to deal with the effects of the mattress. While I used to look forward to retiring to my bed, I'm now happy to stay on the couch longer, as I can sink into it. Mac ran into our room the other day, ready for a story. He leapt on the bed, only to find himself the victim of a dull thud. "Whoa!" he said.

Whoa is right. I googled the benefits of a very firm mattress, and it's true there may be some. But, this weekend, I'm buying a memory foam topper. It probably negates the environmental health benefits of the organic mattress, but I fear my hips and shoulders are becoming bruised. There's only so much I can take.

You were probably wondering about the latest in the sleep situation at our house. Well, let me tell you: it's been a full queen bed around here lately. But don't feel too badly for me because sometimes I can convince one of them to camp out on the floor. That way they're NEXT TO my bed, instead of in it.

My latest spate of Internet research turned up a sleep solution that worked for a couple of days, wherein I would go check on Mac every fifteen minutes, but only if he was quiet. The problem with this strategy is that you have to go up there every fifteen minutes and the kid doesn't actually fall asleep for hours. Because I guess it's a lot of fun to wait for the checks. I still haven't completely given up on this strategy, but I've added another component:

Tonight I tried a very special sleeping medicine that I whipped up and administered via syringe. I made a big deal out of this placebo. What happened? Shef read for an hour in his bed and then fell asleep. Mac cried for an hour about how he couldn't sleep. I told him the medicine only works if you lie in your bed and close your eyes. In the dark. He didn't really buy this, but eventually he did get in bed and is now sleeping.

I'll probably try everything again tomorrow night.

After he got out of the bathtub, Shef told me he "didn't want to be one of those guys with the big nipples." So, I didn't ask too many questions about that.

Later, when Mac got out of the bath, we took this picture:



See those dark circles under my eyes? That means somebody still isn't getting stamps on his dog chart. COME ON, MAC! Think of the puppies!

When Mac started crawling out of his crib, we got him a nice little toddler bed and a gate for his door.

This has been a total nightmare, pretty much. We have to sit with him while he falls asleep and then visit him and rest with him in his TODDLER BED many times during the night. If we don't do these things, hours of screaming ensue.

"Mac," I said to him this morning, "why won't you sleep in your bed all night long by yourself?"

"Ummmmm," he said. "Bug in my bed."

"There's not a bug in your bed," I told him.

He shrugged and walked away.

I read a review in The New Yorker of a play about Mark Rothko. The play sounds riveting, and I'd love to see it.

I marked up the review for my juniors to use as a model to use in writing about their choice plays on the wiki. I wasn't so impressed by their first wiki check. Part of the problem is that some groups just didn't do their assignments at all. I have hope that they'll do the assignments this week. Why not? I might as well hope.

I'm also holding out hope that I'll be able to see plays again someday. Someday when the children are a little older and don't require me to lie down with them for 45 minutes per evening.

This has been a tough week because I've been working really hard at school, Dan's been working really hard at his job, and it's been nice outside. So after those hard days at work, the kids want to go outside to play. With us. After dinner.

Also what makes me tired is Mac not sleeping; however, tonight he did put himself to bed after a few minutes of crying. I am praying to Mary for a full-night's sleep. I always go with Mary because she was a mother, too. Even though sometimes she fails me, repeating those Hail Marys gives me something to do while I'm waiting for the sleeplessness to end.

Anyway, you can tell I'm tired because a) I just look tired in this video that also has weird lighting; and b) I call the April blogging challenge the August blogging challenge. Twice.


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After Mac climbed like a ninja from his crib the other night, we had to revamp bedtime. Now, he is sleeping on his crib mattress on the floor.

The problem with this is that he can just stand up, walk to the door, open it, and scream loudly that he's displeased with his situation. However, I've found that if I lie down next to him, he'll be quiet and pretend like he's going to sleep.

About 45 minutes after I arrange myself on the crib mattress, he's ACTUALLY asleep; and I can sneak out. If I try before that, he wakes up and comes to the door and registers his many, many, many complaints.

I would have read some parenting advice websites about this problem if I thought they could help. Sadly, I've had the hope of better sleep beaten out of me, and I don't really even try anymore.

I did read the opening of Sherman Alexie's young adult novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. It seems good. I bet some other challenge participants have read it already.

Ever since I wrote about Shef’s recent success at sleeping through the night, he’s only slept through one time.

Last night, he woke up claiming starvation at 2:30. I actually thought this was plausible, since he hadn’t eaten much lunch or dinner.

While he was wolfing down half a bagel, I had a talk with him about how it would be great if he would go back to his own bed after he ate.

“No,” he said flatly, “I’m coming to your bed.”

“Well, how will you ever get that Hot Wheels track?” I asked, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

“I’ll get a quarter the next night.”

“But that’s what you said last night [when you slept until 5:40, but still refused to stay put for the required twenty minutes to achieve pay day].”

He was unmoved.

I also threatened to call Dr. G. next week, who can play a pretty good Heavy, but this was ineffective. Then, I tried to explain that 90% of four-year-olds have already mastered the skill of sleeping alone, but this got no reaction whatsoever.

Dan, Shef, and I each have our own twin beds on this trip. The twins are lined up in a row. Shef’s is on the floor, while Dan and I have frames; but we all know how unlikely the kid is to stay-put in the evening hours, especially when there are other warm bodies in such close proximity.

Anyway, there’s a small gap between Dan’s twin and my twin, and last night, one of the things that was keeping me from resting well was the thought that Shef would get himself lodged in the gap and that this would have dire consequences. I actually had kind of a fight with him at about 2:30 because I wanted him to get his legs out of the gap and move over by the wall, for god’s sake.

Fortunately for both of us, at about 4:00, I completely stopped caring about him dangling his legs in the gap; and just felt unbelievably lucky for each additional minute of blissful slumber.

Shef viewed access to the gap as a victory, and announced proudly at the breakfast table that he had “slept in the crack hole.”

This is something I definitely shouldn’t proclaim out loud.

Instead, I’m going to whisper it really really quietly:

Shef has slept in his own bed all night, every night for the last three nights.

I don’t know why he's doing this, and I don’t dare expect it to last. But still. I do appreciate his willingness, however fleeting, to accommodate my recent spring-induced rash of exhaustion. When I collapsed at 8:30 last night, the kid was dozing as well; and when I woke just once at 12:15 to rub his back, he was snoring again before I made it back from the bathroom.