Writing Project-Day One

My little Ms. Sunshine is "sick" so she is staying home from work school today.

Yesterday she threw up in the cafeteria. No, no... nothing so much as the flu. If only it were that easy!

See, Ali is a natural vegetarian. She hates meat. Won't eat it even under pain of death. Her eyes glaze over with the sight of broccoli or corn or even green beans (half a dozen ways). But meat? NOT EATING IT. Even if that means she will be hungry for the rest of the day.

We stopped fighting that fight about a year ago, when I realized that she was not just being stubborn. (Oh, she is stubborn. But this was not part of that catalog.)

In the cafeteria yesterday, they served cheeseburgers. And they made Ali eat it. Three whole bites of soggy, greasy low grade meat was all she was able to get down before everything came right back up. After the fact, she told the lady "I told you I don't eat meat."

Being a vegetarian is not a viable option here in Oklahoma, I guess. Not for non art school majors, anyway. In San Diego, we would have been able to have the option-just not vegan. (Which is fine. I am certainly not vegan material. I like to eat things with eggs and milk too much.)

I may have to start packing her lunch again, as the school's idea of a nutritious lunch is a lot of meat, some potatoes and a tiny bit of fruit. And milk. Which Ali loves despite the fact that it does not love her back: not even a little bit.

Some years ago, Ali had such bad behavior problems that I did not sleep for nearly three years. That is not an exaggeration. Starting around seven p.m., when it was time for bed, my child began having nighttime fights. I would put her in bed and she would get up, screaming for me. I would put her back in bed and she would come find me.  I put stuff her back under the blankets with a swat on the rear and five minutes later, she would be wailing in the living room. Or dining room. Or bedroom. Or even in the bathroom if I just happened to be sitting on the pot.

Around midnight, she would sleep for a maybe an hour. Maybe even two. Then, she would get up again. And again. And again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. This was my life every night except Sunday nights, when I would keep this child up and running for the entire day so that she would crash out shortly after nine and at least sleep for a couple of hours before we started all this again.

I lost count of how many times I dozed on the floor in front of her bed, or crashed out on the couch with half folded laundry in my lap. I slept in front of the stove, while making dinner (no meat for Ali!). I even fell asleep on my feet while brushing my teeth or at work in the middle of processing an order.  If I stopped moving, even a little bit, I would just zap out in a self induced fit narcolepsy.

Coffee became my best friend. I drank so much of it that I started having palpitations. My brain cells started phasing in and out of existence. My normal speed was OMGWTF. It was insane. And then, at night? I would have to drink coffee just to stay alive. I drank coffee so much that my sweat started to take on the same acidic smell of used expresso beans.

This cycle would go on and on and on. No rest. No vacation. Not even on the weekends. I was single mother, living in San Diego. My friends and family lived in Oklahoma. I didn't have any support there. I moved back and found out that no matter how much people love you, they just aren't very supportive if that means they will lose sleep, too. So, here I was. Back in the Midwest. I found the only job I could find (I hated it.) with the longest drive I could find (I hated that.) and with the most religious, condescending, self righteous prick I have ever worked for (I hated him, too.). But, whatever, right? It was an income. And I could slip off into the ladies room (I was the only lady, but not the only bitch.) and sleep on break. Fifteen solid, sweet minutes at a time.

I would have to get up at five a.m. to take her and her older sister to daycare. Of course, Ali was already up-which made the morning dance macabre slightly more tolerable. Between me yelling and her yelling, my poor, sweet little Tina got totally forgotten. She played second fiddle to her sister for so long that it started to kill her spirit. At daycare, the staff felt so bad that Ali was so tired that they let her sleep all day and lectured me on the importance of not letting a child stay up all night. Not exactly what I wanted to hear after a solid ten hour shift.

I was exhausted and crazy. Nothing fit. Three years of no sleeping is more than enough to wreck a person's life.  I was looking at adoption, thinking that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to raise this child to adulthood. I didn't want it to be this way. My heart broke because I loved her, but I just could not keep her. I did not know what to do. Then, on Thanksgiving, I visited my stepmother's family. My Aunt Janet is something of a believe in alternative medicine, so when she suggested that Ali might have a food allergy I was willing to take her off dairy. I was willing to try anything. If I had the money for insurance, I would have already put her on meds.

Turns out that we didn't need meds. The very first night, Ali slept for a four hour stretch. I didn't even bother going to sleep, since I thought she would be up in a few minutes. Even without sleep, it is amazing what a four hours of silence will do for a person.

Three nights later, Ali slept through the night for the first time in her life. I woke up in a panic, thinking something awful had happened. I kicked off my covers and ran into her room, knocking my knee against the doorframe in the process. I came to total stop, in absolute amazement, at the sound of her snoring.

Nothing was wrong. She was asleep. Tina was asleep-it was her first night in three years not to be woken up by her sister, too. After zero hesitation,  I went back to bed and slept until seven for the first time in years only to be woken up by a very hungry and bored Tina.  Ali managed to sleep right up until she heard the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl.

When Gus moved in with me, (Gus being my current and future honey) he took on the awesome responsibility of making Ali go to bed. For Ali it was like hitting a brick wall. Someone in our house finally had more sleep than she did and was willing to stay up all night to make her stay in bed. It was like watching the lion and the eagle having a boxing match. Gus would always win although sometimes, it would take a long, long time to make it happen. Honestly, I could not care less if the fight took all night because I got to sleep while it was going on. It was such a relief.


Between taking away the dairy, changing daycares to someone who would work with us, and Gus Mom-blocking Ali all hours of the night, we got our lives back.

When it came time to try and make her eat meat, it just wasn't worth it. I know how much fight this child will put up to not do something she does not want to do. Oh, yeah. I know! Horrible Mom! I let the kid win.

You're god damn right I did.