I once heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing, the same way, and expecting a different result. I don’t doubt it. This past week, Evan decided he did not want to go to bed. I don’t mean just at 8:00 – I mean at all. It was his master plan to just skip the whole sleep-nonsense-thingy in its totality.
Allow me to backtrack. Evan sleeps in the bottom bunk; Ben in the top. Ben graciously gave up the bottom “because it is bigger, and you (Mommy) can lay down with Evan like you did with me so he won’t be afraid.” Our bedtime ritual has been that we brush our teeth, enjoy a book, and go to sleep. This past week, Evan blew that train right off the track.
Why sleep? We would get to the point of lying down, and then Evan would launch an escalating campaign of blended harassment and deceit.
“Ooh, Mommy is falling asleep…what will happen if I blow in Mommy’s face? How about if I touch her nose? Stick my finger in her ear? Wow, she does not look happy. Look – she’s falling asleep again…I will sneak out of bed and get that toy. Darn, I didn’t know that toy made noise! Uh, oh! ….”
This went on Monday, and Tuesday…by Wednesday night I was so sleep deprived I told Ben to ‘get his pop-tarts out from under the table.’ The problem is I meant to say flip-flops. I could not take it anymore. Wednesday night the blitzkrieg persisted… 9:00 – 9:30 – 10:30…. I began to understand why parents flip out and snap… I yanked Evan out of bed and gave him a time-out in the hallway…back to bed. No effect. I lay in the bed stewing, thinking of all the work I had to do and how tired I was. I thought, “This kid has no idea of what I do all day, every day.”
Then, a stroke of genius (or so I thought) lit upon me. I will put his energy to use. “Ah hah, I thought -- you want to stay up and you are not sleepy? I will show you what it’s like to be an adult.” I pulled him out of the bed and into the kitchen. I was angry. Evan looked scared. I pulled the step stool over to the sink where I had left a pile of dishes for the morning. I hate doing dishes. I signed to Evan to start washing. I wanted to see shock. I wanted to see reluctance. I wanted to see pouting. Evan broke into a huge grin.
We stood in my kitchen as the clock approached 11:30 and Evan washed every dish, pan, and piece of silverware. I watched (hoped) for a sign of fatigue. Nope. I was torn between a silly-joy of not having to face those dishes in the morning, and indignation that my “punishment” backfired and I was no closer to solving our sleep dilemma. I was not yet willing to accept the fact that my psychological trick was not having the desired effect. Still trying to be the “mean task master” I pointed to the mop and bucket and told him when he was finished, I was going to make him mop the floors. Evan looked thrilled, showed me his muscles, and I felt like a Giant Idiot-of-Parenting. Sure, my house would be cleaner, but I did want to go to bed at some point.
We did not mop the floors. When the dishes were done, I told Evan he had to go to bed. He was not happy – like I had broken a promise. I was exhausted.
The next morning I decided I had reached the point of absurdity and I needed to wave the white flag. I told Ben I would not lie down in their room that night. I needed my sleep. If Evan wanted to stay up all night, so be it. I didn’t want Ben to suffer as Evan bounced around their room, so I told him if Evan didn’t settle down, he could come and sleep in my bed.
That night, we repeated our usual bedtime ritual. When it came time to lay down with Evan, I kissed him on the forehead and said, “Good night.” He looked puzzled. I point towards my room and told him Mommy was tired and since he didn’t want to go to sleep, I was going to sleep in my room. I turned out the light. Five minutes passed. Ben walked in my room with his pillow. Moments later, Evan followed and I told him to go back to his room. I told him we were tired and wanted to sleep. Evan looked bewildered, then intrigued. I’m sure the word “FREEDOM” blinked in big neon letters in his brain.
I laid awake for a short time, listening to the sounds of Evan playing. Around 10:30, I woke briefly and could tell he was still going. (Mind you, this was a school night!) After midnight, I heard sounds coming from the living room. I walked down the hallway and found Evan, still awake, hands folded behind his head, watching some black-and-white movie on T.V. I was over it. Off went the T.V. Evan gave me a surly look; I snatched him up, and let him know, “Enough was enough.” I put him back in his bed, told him to go to sleep, and turned the light out. Evan must have passed out then, because I didn’t hear anymore from him.
As it usually does, morning came. Six o’clock is early for most children, especially for those who choose to party half the night. I woke Evan. His eyes were red. I dragged him out of bed and pulled a uniform shirt over his head. He tried to go back in the bed. I smiled. Vindicated.
When Evan was fully dressed, I sat him at the dining room table in front of his breakfast. He put his head on the table. I told him, “See what happens when you don’t go to sleep?” He nodded. He sat in my lap and put his head against me as we waited for the bus.
Evan survived the school day. I felt better than I had all week since I had gotten a full night’s sleep. Bedtime came. I went to kiss Evan’s forehead and he looked at me and patted the bed next to him. I signed, “Are you going to go to sleep?” He nodded. I didn’t really believe him, but I got in the bed anyway. Evan fidgeted for a few minutes. “Here we go, I thought.” I looked at him and signed, “Sleep.” Seconds later, Evan snuggled close to me and hooked his arm around my neck as if to say, “You’re staying right here.” We fell asleep like that.
Extras:
I have discovered the hard way that a slow drain in the bathroom sink and a deaf kid are not a good match. Evan cannot hear the water running, so he sometimes forgets to turn it off after he washes his hands or brushes his teeth. This has resulted in a flooded bathroom twice. Now, Ben or I will check behind Evan to make sure he has turned the water off.
Evan is doing well in school. Behavior is still a challenge, but he is having more good days than bad. Straight-faces and sad-faces on the behavior chart means no T.V. at home, so Evan tries to do the right thing.
Our communication is improving. Evan’s signing vocabulary is passing mine now, so I have to catch up! We can now have small conversations. Evan has been pulling out his photo album from the orphanage in China
My big shock for the week is that I discovered just yesterday that Evan knows some MULTIPLICATION. We were working in my classroom and he was on the computer. Ben said, “Mom, look, Evan’s doing multiplication.” I said, “No, he’s not.” I walked over to see Evan moving an 18 over to a box that said 6 x 3 = ? and the 15 over to the 5 x 3 = ?. I could not believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t get him to show me more. At home, I tried to get him to do it again on my computer, and he showed a solid understanding of the zero and ones table. Beyond that, it looked like guessing, but I am going to look into this further. Sometimes, I think the only thing about Evan that is 6 years old is his teeth. He looks like Leon Spinks lately – all his front teeth are coming out.
Oh, and by the way, Evan has been doing the dishes now every day! :)
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