Long Awaited Dreams

So this is The Boy fast asleep with his weighted blanket.  I realized it really made a difference the other day when I needed to wash it and he didn't have it.  The Boy was up ALL NIGHT LONG.  From 12 am - 2 am with The Husband.  And then from 4 am with me until he went to school.  

See how peaceful The Boy looks.

BUT wait!  It totally works for husbands too.  :)  

Dream Catcher (Weighted Blankets) Giveaway!

If you've been following us for a while, you know that we don't get much sleep.  The Boy tosses and turns, wakes up often, staying up for hours and almost always finding his way into our bed.

It's exhausting.  I'm exhausted.   

Anyway a few weeks ago after a FB status update proclaiming another sleepless night...the amazing woman behind Dream Catcher Weighted Blankets reached out to me.  And she was sweet enough to offer The Boy a complimentary weighted blanket.  (I had been thinking about buying a weighted blanket but not sure whether or not it would be helpful.)

The weighted blanket sent to us is well made, durable, comfortable and a beautiful bright blue (they come in an assortment of colors, sizes and fabrics).  I was really impressed with it.    

Now that we've been using the weighted blanket for about a month, I'm happy to say that it's really made a difference.  We use it throughout the day.  If The Boy's sitting in his beanbag reading a book.  At night, when I'm reading The Boy a bedtime story.  Sometimes I roll it up like log and place it over his lap or wrap it around his shoulders while he's sitting on the sofa watching TV.  And there are times when The Boy isn't using it, that I like to snuggle up with it, it really is relaxing.   

The Boy still wakes up in the middle in the night.  But on the nights he does, he's not as frantic, running around wildly.  He'll walk into our room, climb into bed and go back to sleep.   (That's fine with me, so long as I still get my sleep.)  And sometimes, The Boy will bring his weighted blanket with him.

For more information on the Dream Catcher Blankets click on the following links:
Who do they help?
How do they work? 
How to use? 

Would YOU like to WIN a 

Dream Catcher Weighted Blanket?

Yeah.  I thought you would.

How to Enter and WIN: 

Mandatory entry:  Leave a comment below. Feel free to share why you would benefit from the weighted blanket.

Additional entries:

1.  Follow this blog

2.  Follow me on twitter - @LaliQuin (and don't be shy - say hello) 

3.  “Like” the AutismWonderland Facebook page

4.  “Like” the DreamCatcher-Weighted-Blankets Facebook page

Every time you enter, you MUST post a comment. It is very important that you post a comment* for each entry.  If you are already signed up for any of these, no problem. Just post a comment and you’re in the giveaway!

This giveaway will end Sunday, October 2nd at 11:59pm EST. Winner will be announced on Facebook & Twitter on Monday, October 3rd.  I will contact the winner via email and you will have 24 hours to reply. 

Feel free to contact me at autismwonderland@gmail.com with any questions.

*Comments will be numbered in the order they are listed and a random number generator (random.org) will be used to select the winner. If you combine entries into one post, you will only have one chance to win rather than up to three. Give-a-way is open to U.S. residents only. 

**Dream Catcher Weighted Blankets provided me with a complimentary blanket.   The opinions expressed are my own and have not been influenced in any way. 

Just One of Those Days

I've been up since 3 am (It's 6:27 pm right now).  If you regularly follow this blog, you will know that I do not sleep.  The Boy does not let me.  But this last week has been out of control.  Every single night, he's been up at 3 in the morning - dumping out Lego's, turning on lights, ransacking the kitchen.  

I'm TIRED.  And maybe it's my fault.  Maybe instead of staying up until 11 o'clock watching The Food Network, I should have been asleep.  (Damn you Guy Fieri & The Best Thing I Ever Ate!)

So this morning as I stood waiting with The Boy for the school bus (that came 15 minutes late), I burst into tears.  For no reason other than sheer exhaustion.

And then there were train delays.   

And then I got to work and just had a bad day.  

And then there was a torrential downpour.  And I had no umbrella.  So I took an alternate route and met The Husband at work so he could drive me home.

And in my alternate route, I yelled at a lady sitting next to me on the train.  (Because I'm tired and cranky.)  In my defense she was drenched from the rain and brushing the mud and other god awful city debris off of her - in my direction!   

And then while driving home with The Husband - there's traffic.  Due to the torrential downpour.  

And then I get criticized about how I make chicken by my mother.  Who also wants to criticize the new OT therapist but I had to cut her short.  Because I've decided, she just doesn't like male therapists.

But all through this crappy day, I kept thinking about The Boy.  

As I lay in his bed last night/early this morning, with one eye open I heard him playing.  Pretend playing, using his imagination, creating a dialogue.  And then he's standing beside me, singing "If you're happy and you know it..."  He sang the whole song.  Clapping his hands.  Stomping his feet.  Saying "hooray." 

And even at 4 am, in my sleep deprived state, I appreciate it. 

I remembered when we first started teaching him that song, 3 years ago - when he first started ABA therapy.  At the time he had no language, so we sang the song for him.  We had to hold his hands to make him clap.  We had to move his legs up and down so he could stomp.  We had to lift up his arms and say "hooray."

I was so tired, trying to sleep with one eye open, I can't remember whether or not I said, "good job."

I've been thinking about how far The Boy's  come in the last three years - all day long.  I've been thinking about how he resisted his hands being clapped.  I've been thinking about how stiff his little legs were, as we tried to move them up and down.  I've been thinking about how  heavy his arms were as we said "hooray."  I've been thinking about how as he developed language, the words and movements were difficult for him to do simultaneously.

As I write this, I realize how silly this may sound to some parents.  How some parents may be so sick of hearing or singing - "If you're happy and you know it..."

But I'll never get tired of it, no matter how tired I am.  And while I'm happy I can appreciate The Boy's achievements, I just wish that I didn't have to appreciate them at 4 in the morning.             

    

Sleep Issues, Bedtime Routines and Special Needs

Best of the Best, Edition 8: Sleep Issues & Bedtime and Special Needs 

"Over 20 bloggers have shared their personal experiences, provided sleep resources, and outlined tips for helping children, teens, and parents find sleep. This incredible group of bloggers have experience with many different invisible special needs, such as ADHD, anxiety, sensory processing disorder, and autism. There’s something for everyone!" 

I have to say this is my favorite edition so far.   I loved reading everyone's experiences, especially the older kids.  It gave me an idea of what's in store.  I also picked up some great tips and techniques.  Not sure if it will work but it's all about trial and error with our kids.  

Hope you all have a good night's sleep tonight!

Lisa Quinones-Fontanez presents This Bed Ain’t Big Enough for 3 posted at Autism Wonderland. Prior to becoming a parent, Lisa had many ideas, “One of my ideas was: I would not let my child sleep in our bed.” Discover why Lisa has changed her belief on this idea and what her evenings often look like.

Bed Hopping, Pretend Playing and Other Wee Morning Hour Shenanigans

Sound sexy?  It's so not.   

After yesterday afternoon's public meltdown I assumed The Boy would have a good night's sleep. 

Hahaahahhaaaaaaaaaaa!  I am a foolish woman.  I guess all the little changes (a week off, new classroom - HHG summer session, and yesterday's cancelled OT session) have thrown him off of his routine.  And whenever there's change in routine,  that's usually when our sleep suffers.

I say "our" because when The Boy's up - we're all up.  Well, last night it was just me.  The Husband slept through it.

At about 2 am - I hear The Boy talking.  I open my eyes and realize the hall way light is on and he's sitting there with Linny, Tuck and Ming Ming.  (The Wonder Pets.)  I scoop The Boy up and take him back into his room.  I get into his bed, hoping he'll fall back asleep.  But somewhere between the hallway and The Boy's bed, Tuck has fallen.  And The Boy needs all three.  So he crawls over me and finds Tuck. 

"Go sleep in Mommy's bed,"  he says.          

So I get up and follow him into our bed with Linny, Tuck and Ming Ming too.  After 20 minutes of The Boy rolling around.  He gets up and goes back into his room.  I hear him start pulling out toys.  I hear him talking to himself.  Pretend playing with his Wonder Pets.  He is reciting lines from "I Was So Mad"  and "Toy Story."  There's also some spontaneous speech thrown in.  "Rise and shine.  It's time to go to school." His words are clear and his voice has emotion and kind of sing songy.  And part of me, doesn't want to disturb him; he's playing so appropriately.

But it's almost 3 am.  And I'm tired.  Exhausted actually.  And The Boy has school.  And I need to go to work.  So I get out of bed and go into his room.  I give him the look  and he hurries into his bed.  I climb in next to him (again). 

"Okay Norrin, it's time to go to sleep."
"We have to go to school?"  He asks.
"Yes.  First school.  Then Grandma.  Then Miss Natalie."  I say.


This continues for the next 2 hours.  Hopping between beds.  The Boy pulling out toys and books, playing and reciting lines.  Me, drifting in and out of a light sleep.  The Boy walking throughout the apartment, turning on lights.  Me, getting up and turning them off, kicking legos to the side, trying not to slip on toy cars, ushering him back into his room.  I've given up on getting him to sleep but I at least try to contain him in one place.

By 5 am, The Boy is still up and my alarm goes off.  The Boy is starting to calm down, he's getting sleepy.  I can tell by the way he's sitting and staring off.  I know he'll go to sleep only to be woken up by 6:45.  And I really haven't slept.  Remember the kind of day I had.  Momma had to pull out the Jeremiah Weed Sweet Tea (vodka) and make herself a serious glass of mommy juice.  And I didn't got to sleep until a little after a 11.

And then I thought about that article - about how the "GTF to Sleep" book isn't funny.  I've read the book.  It's funny.  Hilarious actually.  And obviously, I know enough not to read this to The Boy.  And I am the kind of parent who reads every day to their child.  So I'm allowed to think this book is funny.

You know what isn't funny?  Waking up at 2 am and staying up.  And I can't even tell you how many times I wanted to just scream "Go the F--k to Sleep."
 
Well, maybe I yelled it once - around 4 am - but without the F-Bomb.           

Here's hoping tonight is a better night.  And if it isn't - The Husband will not be sleeping through it.    

This Bed Ain't Big Enough For 3

Before I became parent, I had all these fancy ideas of the kind of parent I would be.  Of the kind of child I would have. 


One of my ideas was: I would not let my child sleep in our bed. 


I stuck to this during the first 2 years.  Even on The Boy's first night home, I gave him a bottle and put him in his crib to sleep.  I was setting a precedent.  And for a while, it worked.


Then, shortly before his 2nd birthday we converted his crib (after he learned to climb out) to a toddler bed -The Boy FREAKED OUT!  I mean - hysterics.  I couldn't understand what the big deal was.  This was before the diagnosis.  We tried everything to get him to fall asleep by himself.  Looking back, it makes sense - we changed his routine. 


The Boy would fall asleep after a few hours of crying, but always wake up in the middle of the night and wander into our bed.  We used to fight it.  Or rather, I used to fight it.  Walking him back to his bed 4 or 5 times during the course of the night.  I never really succeeded. 

And once we got the diagnosis, all of my pre-paternal parenting ideas needed to be modified or thrown completely out window.

The Boy reading a bed time story 
in OUR bed

It's three years later and The Boy has a twin bed.  But still every single night, he'll wake up and come into our bed.  I don't even fight it anymore.  Because on those nights where I fought, neither one of us got any sleep. So when he comes into our bed, I just make room.

The Boy will sometimes lay down across the bed at our feet.  Which means, I have to pull up my knees so that I don't kick him off.  It's not comfortable.  And The Husband often falls asleep on the sofa, so that he stretch out his legs without worrying. 


But last night, The Husband fell asleep in our bed and The Boy climbed in between us at about 3 am.  He's a big kid.  He takes up A LOT of space.  His size 13 foot is in my back or his legs across one of our stomachs or his hands on my face or arm across my neck. He kicks and squirms and steals the blanket.  Our queen size bed seems to get smaller and smaller every night.

I am hoping that eventually, The Boy will no longer be comfortable sleeping in our bed and stay in his own.  Because I certainly cannot afford a California King.        

Norrin the Night Owl (1/25/10)

1:00 am
The boy pounces on our bed and wriggles his way between me and Joseph. I open my eyes and he is staring at me – his brown eyes wide open. “It’s Mommy,” he announces and squeezes my face against his. This isn’t a sign of affection as much as it’s the deep pressure touch that he craves. I cover him with the blanket and tell him it’s time to go to sleep. I’m hoping that he goes to sleep quickly. I calculate our hours of sleep – the score is five to three, in the boy’s favor.

It’s rare for him to sleep through the night. Some nights, it’s easy. He wakes up, comes into our bed and goes to sleep right away. Other nights, he’ll stay up two or three hours before going back to sleep. (And no, it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s taken a nap during the day.) But the way he is talking so clearly, I know that it isn't going to be an easy night. For some reason, he’s always the most vocal during the early hours of the morning.

2:00 am
The boy is still rolling around in our bed and it’s time to switch strategies. I kick Joseph awake and tell him to take the boy into his room. Sometimes the boy will go to sleep quickly with Joseph. With them gone, I lay in bed facing the door ready to jump out of bed at the slightest noise. I close my eyes, but I’m not sleeping. I know better. After a while it’s quiet and I think to myself, he’s asleep. But just as I’m about to turn over, the boy is back in our bed. With Joseph asleep in his bed, the boy has more room in mine.

(NOTE: I just want to mention that I do not approve of Norrin sleeping in our bed. As a baby, Norrin always slept in his crib – even though it killed me to hear him cry, I stood my ground. But I guess a baby in a crib is much easier to control than a 4 year old in a twin bed. And at this point, do I really want to argue? It's about choosing your battles.)

“Time for sleep,” the boy says before throwing himself on top of me. I can feel that his pull-up is wet. I’ll need to change it. For a second I think about just letting it be. But I know that if I don’t, I’ll probably have to change his pajamas and the sheets. I change him quickly, hoping that he’ll go to sleep now that he’s dry and possibly more comfortable. But instead, he walks back into his room. I am foolish enough to think it’s to go sleep in his bed.

3:00 am
I hear the contents of the boy’s trains being dumped out on the floor. I pull myself out of bed and walk into his room. Joseph is half asleep. I tell him to go back to our bed – he’ll need to get up for work soon. The boy, oblivious to the time, is happily putting the train tracks together and pushing Toby and Bertie along. He presses the button of the musical caboose and the Thomas the Train theme song fills the room. I know that once he’s started with that caboose – he’ll keep pressing that button over and over and over again. I snatch the caboose out of his hands and hide it. “It’s time for bed.” I pick him up and put him in his bed. And then he says “Pee pee in the potty.” Of course, at 3 am he tells me he has to use the potty – he never finds it necessary to tell me at 3 in the afternoon. I sigh and I’m so tempted to just let him pee in his pull-up. But since he never tells me, I drag myself out of his bed and walk him to the bathroom. And he actually pees! Normally this pee pee in the potty act is worthy of the “Good Job Norrin” song and dance – but not at 3 am. I whisper good job and he looks kind of disappointed that there is no fanfare. Oh well – sorry kiddo – try me after my first cup of coffee.

We get back into his bed and just as I lay down, I remember that I really hate sleeping in his bed. (If I knew then all the time I would spend sleeping in his bed, I would have spent a lot more money on the mattress.) I push him toward the wall and cover him (again) with his blanket. But he’s still not sleepy – not even close. He's just talking and talking. He crawls over me and goes back to his trains. I get up and bring him back to bed and I hand him a train, thinking that would get him to go to sleep. But no. He climbs out of bed again and goes for the trains. I have had it. I pick up all the trains and take the box to my room and shove it in the closet. I go back into his room and say very firmly, “No more trains. It’s time for bed.” He starts to cry and raises his hand and hits me. As he hits me, he says “Don’t hit Mommy.” Dizzy with exhaustion and frustration, I smack his hand and say “You don’t hit Mommy.” I feel bad that I’ve hit him and he starts to cry louder. I’m almost tempted to say “You wanna cry? I’ll give you something to cry about.” But I don’t. Instead, I pick him up, toss him into his bed, cover him with his blanket and tell him to go to sleep. I go back to my room and lay down. He doesn’t come into our room and he doesn’t get out of his bed. I have won.

4:00 am
I am dreaming. It’s a strange dream. I’m holding two pies of Singas pizza and waiting on line at the nail salon. Why am I standing on line at the nail salon – who knows? But how sad is it that I am dream of getting my nails? The last time I had a professional manicure was sometime over the summer. Anyway as I’m standing on the line, I hear something in the distance. I wake up because I realize the boy is ransacking the kitchen. I get up and walk to the kitchen and sure enough there he is – drinking juice and eating sliced cheese. Caught, he quickly closes the refrigerator door and follows me back into my room. He climbs into the bed, in between me and Joseph. I don’t even care anymore. I just want to sleep and I hope that he'll want to sleep too.

6:30 am
The alarm goes off and I hit snooze. Norrin is sleeping peacefully next to me and Joseph is long gone. I feel as if I haven’t slept – which technically I guess I really haven’t. I think about how tired Norrin must be and I almost feel bad sending him to school. Almost. I pounce on top of him and shake him awake. “Wake up! Wake up!” I yell. He rolls over and motions me away with his hand. I pull him up out of my bed and stand him up on the floor. His legs go limp but I keep standing him up until he stands on his own. I remind him that he was the one who wanted to play with Thomas and eat cheese at 3 in the morning. He says nothing. He knows I’m right. Or he’s too tired to fight me.



Norrin the night after - exhausted.  Thank goodness!