After a brief period of sleeping through the night, Kenny went through an even longer stretch of waking up at 3:30 in the morning, having a quick snack, and then resuming his somnolent status. Not long ago, in what I believe was can only be described as the “wee hours of the morning,” Overboard locked her bloodshot eyes with mine and declared, “this has gotta stop.”
My sleep-deprived bride then proceeded to rip through all of her many baby books, while I prayed for a miracle breakthrough and that the Thrashers would win the Cup. This, of course, is why I’m not in charge of these kinds of decisions.
After reading through the books and consulting with fellow parenting friends, Overboard announced that we would be utilizing the Ferber Method to help curb Kenny of his early morning cravings, and instead, sleep peacefully through the night.
According to the good folks at Wikipedia, the
Ferber Method is based around the concept of “progressively training children to put themselves to sleep autonomously.” Basically, when the spud starts fussing, we go in and soothe him for a brief period of time, say 30 seconds, without picking him up.
This soothing consists of some gentle back rubbing, and soft whispers of, “Yes, I know you’re feeling peckish, but think how good that bottle will taste when you have to wait another two and a half hours.” Well, either that or, “Kenny, if you go back to sleep, Daddy will buy you a Lamborghini when you turn 16.”
After the initial soothing, you leave and wait five minutes before going back in to check on him again. Then, you wait ten minutes to check on him next, 15 minutes after that, and so on. The idea is to get him to understand that you haven’t forgotten about him, but he needs to go back to sleep on his own.
Now, this is all very good in theory, but what it leaves out is that your child will be wailing like a bedeviled banshee the entire time, and most likely cursing you in his high-pitched squeals of infant anger.
In between soothing visits, Overboard and I lay in bed trying to block out the shrieking that emanated from the room down the hall. Desperate to get her mind off of the thought that her baby was incredibly upset with her, Overboard went so far as to ask me about my hockey game earlier in the evening. While I was a bit saddened that it took such extreme events for Overboard to show interest in my games, I jumped at the chance to recap the entire match for her in detail.
Even after giving the extended play-by-play, our pudgy little poltergeist was still at it.
It took Kenny TWO HOURS to exhaust himself and pass out. Yes, that was a fun-filled TWO HOURS of Kenny screaming bloody murder, while we debated whether or not we were, indeed, the meanest parents ever.
The following evening/morning was marginally better, as Mr. K awoke like clockwork at 3:27am, and demanded to know where the hell his bottle was, and what was with him lying in bed with a diaper that was over three hours old?
Overboard went in and tried to reason with him, but Kenny was having none of it, and proceeded to attempt and get his point across by increasing his volume exponentially.
When Overboard stumbled back into bed, feeling defeated, we discussed the possibility that the Ferber Method of checking back in on him might actually be backfiring. It seemed that whenever Mr. K saw us come back into the room, he amped up the volume, whereas, if we let him cry it out, he got things down to a soft whimper. Either way, we felt horrible, but sometimes you have to choose between the lesser of two evils, as it were.
I would like to take a moment here to address any and all national security agents who may be reading and encourage them to incorporate the Ferber Method and a teething baby into their interrogational arsenal. It may not be covered under the Geneva Convention, but if I’m any indication, a normal person will break down under this kind of duress and agree to anything. All I’m saying here is that it’s a good thing my child is non-verbal as of yet, or I would probably be bankrupt and forced to sell the house to pay for a lifetime supply of Wiggles CDs (or whatever it is the kids are into these days).
So, to recap, the Ferber Method as written was not exactly going according to plan, so we decided to use the program more as a jumping off point, thus saving us from jumping off of the roof in frustration.
With our new, “only go in if it sounds like he’s about to sell our internal organs on the black market” strategy, the following two nights actually went somewhat smoother, with the crying jags reducing by about a half hour each night.
Of course, the other morning before heading out to work, Overboard informed me that I had, hours before, stood in Kenny’s room somewhere around 4:45am, and asked her if I was awake or dreaming. She had apparently told me I was dreaming, and that I needed to change Kenny’s diaper and then put him back down. “That’s, like, one of my least exciting dreams ever,” I replied.
I am happy to report, however, that after less than a week of agonizing “soothing,” Kenny has now slept all the way through the night for three nights running. I only hope that I haven’t jinxed it by typing that sentence. You know, like talking to your pitcher during a no-hitter or something.
Keep your fingers crossed…
