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Mommy v Dr. Zibners: It’s Been A While

I had to have a talk a couple months ago with Mommy. We had done everything right, I mean everything, when it came to getting the girls to sleep at night. No rocking, never holding them sleeping, always encouraging self-soothing. And for the most part, the girls have slept through for nearly a year, not counting jet lag or illness. But unfortunately, for all her good intentions, Mommy messed up bedtime—the actual going to bed—badly. I mean disastrous. So we had a chat.

“You screwed the pooch, lady,” Dr. Zibners said. “This is a disaster. Nice bedtime routine. Too bad it only works if there are no other adults in the house. That’s practical.”

“But Eva wants her ‘Mommy time’ and I can’t put them down together because how can either of them fall asleep with the other making so much noise? I’m so blessed tired, it’s just easier to give in. When their father is here, he can’t stand to hear them cry. And they are only little girls!” wailed Mommy.

“Look at yourself, do you like the way you look? I mean, 7 or 8 trips up and down the stairs every evening between 7 and 8pm is one way to tone up. Nice circles under your eyes, by the way. But are you happy? Do you enjoy bedtime?” countered Dr. Zibners.

“No. Friggin dread it. And it seems the later they go to bed, the earlier they wake. I understand that science says that’s true but it seems so counterintuitive. And an 8:30 bedtime means 90 minutes of fighting, followed by a 5am wake up. I’m miserable. And embarrassed. After all, I’m supposed to be an expert!”

“Yeah, well, we always mess it up with our own kids. Don’t beat yourself up over it. But what are we going to do to fix it? This can’t go on, can it? I mean, we’re at the point where you can no longer have guests for dinner unless you hire a sitter to put the girls to bed. In your own house. While you are upstairs. That’s disgusting, woman. Oh and by the way, if you don’t act now, soon they’ll be able to get out of their bed and then you are burnt toast, toots.”

Mommy caved. Dr. Zibners was right. One child, a ranch style home? Maybe I could have waited a bit longer. But I was at the end of my rope. So I made a plan. And I stuck to it. It involved a 7pm start time, two stories, two songs and a kitchen timer. 5 minutes. Then 7. Then 10. The first night took 45 minutes. The second took the same. But then, like a miracle, Eva got it. Zoe did her best to fight it, pelting a slumbering Eva with every binky in her crib, tossing toys and her wubbie onto her sleeping sister. But eventually she too admitted defeat. And here I am a week later, with two toddlers who clearly understand bedtime. And who wake at 6:30, on the dot. (Okay, that’s a lie. 5 or 10 minutes either way. And there is a training clock involved—-another story.)

And why am I telling you this now, after I dug myself out of the miserable pit of nocturnal hell in which I have been living for months? No, it’s not to gloat. It’s to confess how bad things got before I reached my limit. Everyone’s “rock bottom” is different and I finally hit mine. And in this case, I needed to truly scrape the bottom of the ocean to give myself the strength needed for what lay ahead. But the important lesson here, besides shattering your image of my perfect parenting, was that whatever the problem, it’s never too late. No matter how deep in the doodoo you’ve gone. I’m living proof.

Dr. Lara Zibners, Aug 16, 2011

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