Dear Self-Proclaimed Sleep Specialist,
I find it amusing that you’ve taken it upon yourself to be the designated expert on sleep. Every group seems to have that one parent who skims a few parenting books and suddenly believes they are a guru on all things related to children’s slumber. You know the type—the one who acts like they have a doctorate in baby sleep strategies, breastfeeding, or discipline. The all-knowing figure.
While I appreciate your intentions, your intense enthusiasm about my child’s sleep habits raises an eyebrow. I took a look at your polished website, explored your advice, and even peeked at your eBooks and online courses. And let’s not forget that glowing endorsement from Dr. Phil. Wow, your sleep techniques must be out of this world.
As I watched your YouTube tutorials, I couldn’t help but notice how rejuvenated and composed you appeared. (By the way, great smile!) But I have to ask: do you have kids? Because I haven’t met a parent who juggles little ones and looks that well put together. It would feel more authentic if you were wearing a worn-out college T-shirt with a yogurt stain. Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t help but wonder if you have a nanny. I’d like to see that look of desperation in your eyes—the one that comes from sleepless nights spent hiding in the bathroom with a glass of wine.
Your flawless appearance aside, what truly frustrates me is your tendency to project your experiences onto every child as if they are all the same. It honestly makes me want to shoot laser beams from my eyes. I’m generally not hostile, but your so-called wisdom could ignite a flame on the playground—after the kids leave, of course.
Since you love answering questions, let me pose one: How do you resist the urge to toss your child out the window during naptime? This thought crossed my mind at 3 AM the other night. I checked your website, but I didn’t find any answers. And you think of yourself as a sleep guru? Really?
You might assume that I’m just wasting time writing this letter. I confess that sleep deprivation has led to some odd thoughts. Just last night, I accidentally poured breast milk into my coffee. Lack of sleep has me on edge, drains my patience, and makes me want to snap at anyone who shares parenting advice with such certainty.
Why isn’t my child sleeping well? Honestly, I don’t have a clue. We’ve established a routine, darkened the room, and invested in a white noise machine. In a moment of frustration, I even considered giving my son a tranquilizer, but my partner shot that idea down.
What’s that? You think I haven’t tried your special techniques? Oh, I’ve considered them. But do you truly think I have time to keep a sleep log? I can barely find a moment to feed the dog or pay the electric bill, let alone track my child’s sleep patterns. And you expect me to place a Bluetooth-enabled gadget under my child’s mattress to monitor his night terrors? Umm, that’s not happening. Do you honestly believe that boosting my child’s self-esteem will improve his sleep? That gave me a good laugh.
Let me share my own sleep strategy with you: it’s called deep breathing. When I feel the urge to throw my child out the window, I take a deep breath. When I reach my breaking point, I safely place him in his crib and step into another room. I don’t return until I’ve taken multiple deep breaths. I don’t care if he’s crying. I breathe in, breathe out, drink some water, and maybe snack on a Hot Pocket. Then I decide whether to keep trying for sleep or move on. Late-night TV is a great distraction; right now, my son and I are binge-watching old episodes of The X-Files.
So, on behalf of all the over-caffeinated parents with dark circles under their eyes, I kindly decline your sleep advice and suggest you take a breather on the playground bench.
Warm regards,
A Sleep-Deprived Parent