Coney Island Meltdown

OK, I know that many of you are gonna blame what I am about to describe on Greta’s lack of normal sleep the past few days, and you might be right, but I am laying the blame squarely in the terrible twos category. That said, let me tell ya what happened.

It was day two of our adventures in NYC, Greta and I got our usual late start, grabbed some breakfast and then hopped on the subway’s N line to the last stop, Coney Island! Mrs. Yeti didn’t have any real interest in coming with us — and, I’ll admit it, the hour-long train ride there is no picnic — so, we planned this adventure for a day when she was working.

And what an adventure it was, chili dogs and fresh lemonade at the first Nathan’s Hot Dog stand in the country, cotton candy, kiddie rides for $3.00 a pop, and all the beautiful, old-school boardwalk and beach you could stomach. It was awesome! Yeah, some of the neon is definitely faded and the place is a little sketchy in spots, but, the people working there were great and we had a blast. Until the sun started going down…

I dunno what happened to her, but, after one final ride on the merry-go-round, Greta went, I believe the clinical term for it is, ape-shit crazy. She started screaming that she wanted to ride more rides (which was literally impossible since I had no more cash on me) and then ran off in the direction of the Bumble Bee ride, which was her favorite.

I picked her up, she hit me. I threw her over my shoulder to carry her, she kicked me. It was crazy, but, it was getting dark and I knew we had a long-ass train ride back to the city, so, I needed her to behave. Of course, that’s what made her more determined than ever not to!

So, we start heading to the subway station, her screaming bloody murder, me trying to stuff her into her stroller and all of our crap toppling over every time she kicks herself free of it. And for the next five or ten minutes on that boardwalk, I was “that Dad” and she was “that toddler”, duking it out like a couple of wild, red-faced hillbillies.

I swear to God, EVERYONE within listening distance stopped to watch the bad dad trying to get his hell child to bend to his will and obey him. At one point, I literally did not know what to do. She had knocked my hat and sunglasses off, the stroller was laying on it’s side and she was kicking and screaming so wildly that I almost couldn’t hold her. I’ve been at “this job” for two-plus-years now, and trust me, I’ve never seen a meltdown like this…it was brutal.

I tried reasoning with her, I tried spanking her, I tried changing the subject — you know, talking about the good times we’d had that day, her favorite movies, how nice our male maid was at the hotel, anything — but, nothing worked. And then, I spotted a “Dunkin’ Donuts” across the street and in a desperate, last-ditch effort to change the subject, I found a subject we could both agree on. “Hey, you want a donut?” I panted as she flailed in my arms.

Suddenly, she stopped cold and said, in a totally calm voice: “Yes, I want a donut.” And just like that, the tears and craziness melted away. She sat down in her stroller (even buckling herself in) and we crossed the street and got a donut for her and a big-ass iced coffee with extra Valium for me.

Whew…what a day…

A slight delay…

OK, so, aside from an awesome detour to sample the wares at the legendary Grilled Cheese Truck, we spent all of Saturday packing for our trip to NYC.

And as anyone who has a toddler knows, we travel pretty damn heavy these days. Carseat, stroller, two backpacks, two carry-on bags, two checked bags and Greta’s cute little backpack full of stuffed animals. And I thought we traveled heavy before she came along! Yikes…

Anyway, got all that shit together, hopped in a taxi to the airport Sunday morning — got there on time even! — only to be told by the dude at curbside check-in that our flight had a “slight” three hour delay because of thunderstorms in New York. Grrr…who calls three hours “slight”?! Total suckage!

Surprisingly though, the time sailed by thanks to one glorious invention — and a last-minute addition to our luggage — our amazing, portable DVD player! That thing kept Greta smiling and happy the whole time, and when we finally did get on the plane, she fell into a deep, restful sleep. It was so damn awesome…

She also stayed in her carseat the whole flight and didn’t cry once — which was even more awesome! — so, i just gotta say…if anyone out there ever doubts the value of technology in the toddler years…DON’T! Technology is a parents best friend, amigos, especially when traveling.

All hail, the portable DVD player. Oooo, and those little TV’s in the seats on Jet Blue didn’t hurt either. I got to watch a really juicy  “The Real Housewives of New Jersey” marathon and the time just flew on by. So rad!

Troubled Sleep II: The Revenge

And…just like that, they’re back. That’s right, amigos…the sleepless nights have returned to our house. I dunno if it means she’s getting ready for another growth spurt or what, but, Greta just will not go to bed. We tried putting her down earlier, we tried later, and last night, we tried really, really late (not by choice, I might add) but nothing is working.

Complicating matters even more is the fact that ever since we came home from Oregon, she will not go to sleep in her own bed. It’s “Mommy’s bed” or nothing for her and seeing as we are about to spend ten days in New York City, where we will no doubt be sharing a bed, it seemed kinda pointless to break her of the “Mommy’s bed” habit now. Or was it? I mean, should we have forced her into her own bed for two weeks between trips? I dunno…all I know is that I’m so fucking tired I needed toothpicks to keep my eyes open today. Seriously, I look like a sleepy-eyed dog cartoon character…

The one good thing is that once she falls asleep in our bed, she stays asleep, even when I move her back to her bed before I go to sleep. Of course, last night, that didn’t happen. I did the swap out from our bed to her crib, then about half an hour later was awoken by the sound of her SCREAMING. Holy shit, I just about wet the bed. So scary! Especially amplified over the video monitor. Yikes…

So, I run back in there and she says there was a bug buzzing in her ear and that there were bugs all over her comforter too. Hmmm…if that’s true, then Daddy is grabbing you and running the other way, I think to myself. But, like the brave Daddy that I am (ha!) I check her bed for bugs and, thankfully, find none. So, guess where Little-Miss-Vivid-Nightmares ended up sleeping? That’s right…squished between me and mommy in “Mommy’s bed”.

Oh, and here’s the best part, she woke up way earlier than normal this morning in a horrible, spitting-mad mood. Ah, the joys of parenthood…

“Grey Gardens” Greta

Spent most of the morning trying to convince Greta that her gigantic, two-and-a-half-year-old noggin is just too big to fit into her favorite 6-12 month-sized dress. And lemme tell ya, it was brutal. Tears, yelling, throwing, more tears, and that was only on my end. So, finally, I give in and let her wear her favorite dress exactly the way she wants to.

And this, my friends, is what it looked like. Eat your heart out, Little Edie!

The cure for troubled sleep?

OK, so, we’re only a few days into our vacation up here in Oregon and suddenly Greta is sleeping like a dream…actually, better than that. What’s better than “like a dream”? Um, like two dreams? I dunno, but, the point is, she is sleeping like crazy and it is totally awesome.

I don’t know if it’s the fresh mountain air or that hideous sleeping bag of hers, but she falls asleep and stays asleep almost the minute her tiny head hits the pillow.

Who knows, maybe she needed this vacation as much as we did? Either way, sleep has made a very welcome return to our lives…yay!

Troubled sleep…week two!

I dunno what sort of developmental phase she’s going through right now, but we just finished our second week of major sleep issues with Greta. Lately, it doesn’t matter what time she naps (early, late afternoon, no nap, we’ve tried them all), when the time comes to go to sleep, she WILL NOT SLEEP.

And I ain’t talking delicate, little, “Let me just lay here for a while Daddy, I’ll fall asleep eventually.” I’m talking, screaming, shreiking bloody-murder, Gandalf-esque “You shall not pass!” refusals to even try to sleep. It’s insane. And, as you can imagine, it has done wonders for the sleep patterns of the other two people who live in this house.

It got so bad tonight that my wife actually threatened to leave if it didn’t stop. No word on where she would go (for the record, she is not a great planner on little or no sleep) but she did promise to leave a note when and if she does leave us. And, if you think I’m kidding, you obviously haven’t dealt with a surly, sleep-deprived two-year-old…or her surly, sleep-deprived mother. Yikes…

Short of spiking her last sippy cup of the night with Jim Beam, anyone have any ideas to help out? I was kidding about the Jim Beam (we’re more of a tequila household these days), but, we will seriously try anything at this point…so, please, comment away!