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The Goddess Speaks Laurie Okawa Moore |
Motherhood means
never sleeping aloneI have discovered the perfect method of birth control. It's not a pill or a piece of strategically placed latex. It is a 3-year-old daughter who refuses to sleep alone in her own bed.
When I was single and childless (in other words, a naive know-it-all), I stated that children should absolutely never sleep in their parents' bed. This emphatic declaration sent my married-with-children friends into fits of uncontrollable laughter. (I got the same response when I foolishly opined that couples should have sex at least five times a week, baby nurseries should be sound-proofed so parents can get some sleep, and children should not be allowed on airplanes.)
Bedtime battles at the Moore residence center on Mikaela, a tiny girl with a big attitude, and her parents who are too darned tired to put up much of a fight.
This is our exhausting nightly routine: Just as I am about to slip into the all important REM stage of sleep, piercing wails of "MOOOOOMMMY!" shatter the nocturnal silence. This is followed by the urgent patter of little feet wending their way through the darkened house. Sometimes it's too much of an effort to scream hysterically, so Mikaela simply climbs into our bed where she squirms, kicks and takes up three times as much space as a 30-pound child should. On many mornings I awake with a tiny leg flung across my neck or a soft round head burrowed into my armpit.
Admitting defeat and feeling the need for professional intervention, I consulted our pediatrician. I was searching for some glimmer of hope to be gleaned from many years of clinical experience. After outlining several solutions, each of which I checked off as "been there, done that," our dear doctor -- who is the most wonderful pediatrician in the world -- sheepishly admitted his own daughter slept in the parental bed the first seven years of her life.
ONE DAY, Mikaela saw a beautiful (and expensive!) Cinderella canopy bed in a catalog and decided that this was to be her next birthday present. She carried that catalog with her everywhere and even slept with it tucked under her blanket.
Seizing an opportunity to apply the time-tested method of bribery, my husband, Bill, made a deal with Mikaela. If she could sleep in her own bed by herself all night for a whole week, he would buy her the Cinderella canopy bed. (That's what second mortgages are for, Bill explained to me when I balked at the price of this "reward.")
Excited by the thought of sleeping in luxury just like Cinderella, our self-proclaimed princess made a gallant attempt at solo slumber. "I sleep by myself tonight," she proudly informed me at dinner. When it was time to brush her teeth, her resolve crumbled slightly. "You stay with me a little while?" she asked pensively. By the end of the bedtime story, her bravado was completely undone. "Mommy, you sleep with me!" she insisted in a way that commanded compliance. Our home has yet to be graced with an overpriced Cinderella canopy bed.
All of this left my 7-year-old son, Alex (who has slept alone in his own bed since birth), unimpressed and a little confused. "Why would Mika want a can of pee anyway?" he asked with disgust. I was too weary to answer.
Laurie Okawa Moore is director of communications at the Hawaii Credit Union League.
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