Anyone with kids knows that getting them to sleep is no easy feat. Luckily, there are people who specialize in these things, like Israeli sleep coach Batya Sherizen. Below she takes on a question from Kveller editor, Deborah Kolben. Do you have a sleep question for Batya? Send them into email@example.com with the subject line “Sleep coach.”
My 4-year-old still wakes up and wants us to sleep in her bed every night. How do we get her to sleep on her own?
As parents, we obviously want to ensure that our children feel emotionally secure at all times. Sometimes, however, we find ourselves sacrificing that “security” at our own expense and sleep deprivation.
Your 4-year-old wants your presence to fall back asleep at night and she is developmentally at a place where she can understand cause and affect. Until now, she has learned that if she protests enough, Mommy and/or Daddy WILL come and sleep in her bed. Therefore, she has no reason to change her current behavior. In her eyes, she is getting what she wants! Read the rest of this entry →
It goes like this: Sylvie’s playing with another kid at the park. Suddenly she grabs the kid’s hair, shrieks in excitement, and pulls. The kid’s mom and I run over and pry her hands off (harder than you’d think!), mom kneels to console crying kid, I apologize profusely. And there’s Sylvie, grinning uneasily.
I know she doesn’t mean to cause pain; she’s just excited. But on some basic human level, it feels odd to see someone smile while hurting someone else. So when this first started happening I was pretty concerned. I’m still new to this whole mothering thing. Was this a developmental stage, or the beginning of a real problem? Read the rest of this entry →
Back in the good old pre-baby days, my favorite activity was going out to dinner.
As far as I am concerned, the very best part of living in New York City is having the chance to go to one of the thousands of places to eat in the five boroughs. I loved trying new restaurants, going out with girlfriends for happy hour cocktails and shared appetizers, dinner with Jdates, and then later on, sharing meals with my husband. I even enjoyed going out to eat by myself with a glass of wine and the latest New Yorker. Read the rest of this entry →
The first thing most people notice about my 2-year-old, Shaya, is his hair.
He doesn’t allow us to brush it so we have given up and allowed his crazy locks to bloom. Straight on the top and wildly curly underneath, his hairstyle encompasses his personality completely. Baruch Hashem we only have four more months till his upsheren. We joke that no one will recognize him once he looks “normal.”
Normal is all relative, especially when talking about Shaya.
The next thing people quickly notice are his clothes. Always in black and white, Shaya likes to only wear Shabbos clothes. It’s a running joke amongst our friends and family that our 2-year-old little boy is the most religious member of our brood. My husband doesn’t even wear a black hat nor does he wear the Yeshivish penguin suit. But Shaya loves to rock it out in his t-shirt tzizis and Shabbos clothes, flopping around in his one size too big Shabbos shoes. I thought my husband would have a heart attack when we bought those for him, but what could I do? None of the others were “right.” When you sit “fixing” shoes for 20 minutes until he’s okay walking in them and now you’re late for school, appointments, etc. I’ve learned to pick and choose my battles when it comes to Shaya. Read the rest of this entry →
It was one of those things I swore I’d never do as a parent–walk my child on a leash.
My child is not a dog! He will not walk on a leash any more than he will howl at passing helicopters or sniff other children’s butts. I will simply teach my child to walk alongside me, holding my hand and smiling up at me like a ray of sunshine.
The childless Bruni considers modern parenting too indulgent and democratic. His self-described parenting credential is being Uncle Frank, but the gap between aunt/uncle and parent is like that between dessert and spinach. Kids enjoy aunt/uncle’s doting; they don’t test limits. It’s different with parents. Read the rest of this entry →
The pediatrician looked in G’s mouth in a somewhat desultory fashion. “Maybe she’s getting her molars. Maybe.”
He was basically throwing me a bone.
I’d taken 20-month-old G to the pediatrician three times in the past week. Fine, that makes me sound a little crazy. Well, I’d become a little crazy. This was our “well” visit, and yet again, the doctor was telling me she was…well. Healthy, speaking well, unusually tall considering her mom’s genetic contribution. Everything was just as you’d want it to be, pu pu pu. Read the rest of this entry →
After a really fun family seder, I was beaming with pride as I cleaned up some puzzles on the floor. My firstborn was running the house naked waiting for the baby to be done in the bath. A split second later, I look up and he is peeing all over me. All over the carpet, the puzzles, my pants. FOUR CUPS OF GRAPE JUICE WORTH OF WIZ! He was laughing and wiggling around, a hose of urine streaming back and forth. At first I sat there completely stunned and then I started shouting for him to stop peeing on me and begging, “Why are you doing this? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Read the rest of this entry →
One of my favorite pictures I ever took of my daughter came during a tantrum.
She wasn’t quite 3. We were in the middle of a family party with our best friends–and their two kids, the de facto cousins. My daughter had just hit her BFF. I scooped her into my arms and carried her upstairs for a time-out. A photographer friend once advised me that photos of crying people were always good to take, aesthetically (you can quibble about the morals). There my daughter stood in her crib in a white satin dress-up princess frock. Her face, framed by tired pigtails, revealed the sadness and regret just beneath the frustrated, overtired impulsivity. Her dark eyes were slick and teary and her rounded cheeks appeared rounder, all pouty. And the camera happened to be around my neck. She was so freaking adorable I had to sneak in one quick shot. Read the rest of this entry →