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An Open Letter to the Self-Proclaimed Sleep Specialist
Dear Self-Proclaimed Nap Guru,
Honestly, I’m not shocked that you’ve crowned yourself the resident sleep expert. There’s always that one parent in every group who devours a few parenting books and suddenly believes they’re an authority on the sleep habits of children. You know the type: the one who acts like they’ve got a Ph.D. in breastfeeding, teething, or discipline. The ultimate know-it-all.
I get it—you think you’re being helpful by sharing your “expertise.” But your intense enthusiasm about my child’s sleep routine is a bit unsettling. I checked out your polished website and skimmed through your tips, methods, and strategies. Not to mention your ebooks, online courses, and coaching sessions. And wow, you even have Dr. Phil’s stamp of approval! Impressive. Your sleep advice must be at Jedi Knight level.
As I watched your YouTube tutorials, I couldn’t help but notice how remarkably fresh and energized you look. (By the way, great smile!) But I’m curious—do you even have kids? Because I’ve yet to meet a parent of young children who looks as put together as you. It might be more relatable if you sported a worn college T-shirt with a splash of blueberry yogurt. Okay, I’ll take your word for it, but do you perhaps have a nanny? I need to see a hint of desperation in your eyes—the kind that leads parents to sneak away to the bathroom with a glass of wine.
I can overlook your impeccable appearance, but what really grinds my gears is your tendency to project your own experiences onto other kids as if they’re all identical. It’s enough to make me want to shoot laser beams from my eyes. Look, I’m not hostile by nature, but your so-called wisdom has me contemplating arson at the playground—after the kids leave, of course!
Since you enjoy fielding questions, here’s one for you: How do you resist the urge to toss your little one out the window during naptime? That thought crossed my mind at 3 AM last night. I searched your site, but surprisingly, you had no answers. And you call yourself a sleep guru? Really?
You might think I’m wasting my time writing this, and I admit that sleep deprivation has turned my brain to mush. Just last night, I accidentally poured breast milk into my coffee. Lack of sleep puts me on edge, tests my patience, and makes me want to snap at anyone offering unsolicited parenting advice with absolute confidence.
Why isn’t my child sleeping well? Your guess is as good as mine. We’ve established a routine, darkened the room, and even splurged on a white noise machine. In a moment of sheer frustration, I briefly considered giving my son a tranquilizer, but my partner shot that idea down.
What’s that? You think I haven’t tried your magical methods? Oh, I’ve thought about it. But do you seriously believe I have the time to keep a sleep log? I can barely find time to feed the dog and pay the electric bill, let alone document my child’s sleep patterns. You expect me to place a Bluetooth-enabled device under my child’s mattress and connect it to my smartphone to monitor night terrors? Yeah, that’s not happening. And improving my child’s self-esteem to help him sleep better? Thanks for the chuckle.
Let me share my sleep solution with you: deep breathing. When I’m tempted to hurl my child out the window, I take a deep breath. When I’m about to lose it, I safely place him in his crib and step into another room. I don’t return until I’ve taken several deep breaths. I don’t care if he’s crying. I just breathe in, breathe out, drink a glass of water, maybe eat a Hot Pocket, and wait until I can think clearly.
If I believe my child might fall back asleep, I keep trying. If not, I move on. Midnight is actually a great time to catch up on ’90s television. My son and I are currently wrapping up season two of The X-Files.
So, on behalf of all sleep-deprived parents sporting dark circles under our eyes, I must respectfully decline your sleep advice and suggest you take a break on the playground bench instead.
Sincerely,
A Tired Parent