O-mama - Opinionated Moms

• By Amanda Noll • 10 Comments
• Tagged in: For Kids

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I went through a period of about 18 months after my second daughter was born when I never really slept for more than 3 hours at a time.  I had a crazy 2 year old that never napped and a newborn with some health issues and strange, erratic nursing habits so I spent many long nights carrying her around, rocking her, feeding her, burping her, suctioning her nose, etc.   Then during the day when the baby would sleep I would desperately try to give my kooky toddler some attention: color with her, potty train her (lost cause),  play on the carpet with blocks for hours and hours, watch the same Barney episodes over and over and over.   It was a strange dark period with fantastic and beautiful highly concentrated moments of great joy but mostly I remember feeling vaguely psychotic a great deal of the time. 

Radical fatigue is almost like being on really powerful hallucinogenic drugs (so I’ve heard.)  I always felt a bit like I was observing myself and my life and not entirely living it.  People and trees and normal objects took on a glossy shimmery sheen—colors either looked too bright or not bright enough.  I probably aged 10 years in the span of 3. 

I had another insomniac period during my 20’s –pre-marriage/kids but I guess because I was, in fact, younger, it didn’t seem to affect my ability to cope or function quite as much—though those things never seem as glaring when there aren’t small people counting on you for food, shelter, and basic care.  It was even sort-of fun at the beginning; I did a lot of painting and writing…none of it very good—a fair bit of smoking (don’t tell the kids).  But I do remember eventually starting to feel afraid as the sun would set and I knew I was in for another long night.  The nights became these giant, dark canyons of time, and the days just these tiny slivers of light in between.

Now I just need a decent book and a semi-quiet room and I can usually get at least 6 or 7 hours in on a weekend before someone starts hollering or singing or running the blender or what have you.  On school days I have to set my own alarm then go rouse the girls who are literally in HARD CORE REM states of sleep.  I feel awful having to wake them up.  They sleep like animals especially now that they don’t share a room.  One likes windows closed—the other…wide open.  One likes a sound machine…the other needs it silent.  One likes it pitch black, the other needs a crack of hallway light.  You get the idea.  The little OCD one needs 4-5 chapsticks lined up on her bedside table right next to her glasses case.  The big one is not so anal but does need to read a bit before turning off the lights.  And I’m not sure what she dreams about but it must be very active stuff because in the morning she’s likely to be completely turned upside down in her bed—and every now and then I find her sound asleep on the floor.  The little one wakes up in the exact same position she fell asleep in, so all she has to do to make her bed is pull one corner of the comforter back up to where it was when she got in.

But she does have bad dreams which she sometimes remembers but not always.  She always comes to our bed and I always let her in. I had pretty intense night terrors as a kid, so I have tremendous sympathy.  My nightmares were filled with monsters and ghosts and sometimes just bad feelings that you can’t explain.  I used to have one where I was just shrinking and shrinking until I just disappeared.  Hello, Dr. Freud???  I also had the classic fear of the monsters under the bed which must be fairly universal.   The author of our featured monthly book obviously had the same fear.  I was convinced the long armed whatever was under there,  so I would take these flying leaps from the center of the room to my bed, so I wouldn’t have to expose my ankles to any grasping talons or bony, scary hands. 

My daughter’s dreams tend to be more reality based, sadly—things she hears on the news—bad guys taking little girls away from their families.  Horrible stuff.  Real life nightmares.  I just keep telling her that we’re here to protect her forever, that all the doors are locked every night and that her fiercely loyal dog would never let a bad guy in.  I let her conveniently forget that the dog is ancient, wildly arthritic, and pretty much deaf, but I do believe that he would do his damndest to protect her.

Amanda Noll has written a hilarious book  which turns the tables on all the monsters and features a different sort of a kid who actually needs his monster at night and panics when he thinks the monster has gone on a fishing vacation.  The book flip flops the classic and all too familiar “there’s a monster under my bed” fear, and turns the monster into the friend—the comforting blanket, binky, or sound machine that you need before falling asleep.

Ethan is the funny, quirky little boy, and his monster’s name is Gabe—which is a great—and very much not scary—name for a monster.  When Ethan realizes Gabe is not around, he interviews some substitute monsters—none of which have just the right “stuff” to replace Gabe.  Ethan likes certain kinds of claws and tails, and he likes his monsters to make very specific snorting noises and for their drool to be nice and green and slimy.

The illustrations are glossy and bright—each picture looks almost like an animation cel.  All the monsters are colorful and polite—nothing scary at all; mostly because Ethan’s attitude is so positive toward the whole monster program.  Thematically, the plot seems to be demonstrating that old adage that the best defense is a good offense.  If you can’t be scared by a monster, they won’t come around.  You can’t scare someone who can’t be scared…where’s the fun in that?

The lesson there applies to the playground too…bullies don’t generally bully kids who refuse to play the victim.   Again, where’s the fun in that—for the bully?  And don’t we all need a big scary monster on OUR side sometimes?

Ethan finally falls asleep happy in the knowledge that his friendly  and loyal monster, Gabe, is snoring AND SNORTING under his bed.