Go The F*#k to Sleep

I recently received a wonderful gift from a friend that truly gets me and my experience as a parent. The gift was a book entitled “Go the F*#k to Sleep” by Adam Mansbach and it is an irreverent and painfully accurate glimpse into getting your kid to go to sleep.

 The book is full of sweet little rhymes - descriptions of kittens snuggling and lambs resting – and visually arresting illustrations by Ricardo Cortes. The author resorts to all the standard efforts to coerce a child to sleep, but updates the plea with the lament, “Go the F*#k to Sleep.” I repeatedly laughed out loud as each page reveled increasing frustration and vehement requests to the listening toddler to just go to sleep – something I know quite personally.

 The Pie's nighttime ritual is pretty much the same. Dinner, a little play time, bath, teeth brushing, story time and bed. Every night she attempts a negotiation as if she is dealing with a hostage-taker. “I will play for 1 minute and then go to sleep.” When I say, “No, it's bedtime,” she tries a different approach. “Mama, how about I watch a movie and then go to sleep?” I just stick to the script and say “no” to everything, which turns bedtime into a stressful and raw experience. Mansbach must have obviously placed cameras in my house, because I am certain I have mumbled some of the pleas more than once. Verbatim.
 When I finally get out the door, after chanting the requisite bedtime words, I take a deep breath and wonder how long I have until she comes out of her room waving her sippy cup or claiming she needs to use the bathroom, or suddenly needing to share a thought she had four days ago. It's usually between 20-45 minutes. But on very special nights, if she's sick or just exhausted, when I put her to bed and hear not a peep until morning. Those are the nights that God smiles on me.

There is a line in the book that totally captures the essence of my nightly struggle:

“A hot crimson rage fills my heart, love.

 For real, shut the f*#k up and sleep!”

I get so angry at this adorable angel that I nourished in my body and gave breath to that I am tempted to punch a hole in dainty shelf near her bed. How can she do that to me? More importantly, WHY do I let her do that to me? By there time her bedtime rolls around, I am spent. Goofily, swaying from room to room, picking up toys and shoes and clothes. Gleefully giggling to myself that I might actually get some quiet personal time. Oh, what a cock-eyed optimist I can be. No, what I should do is don my armor and prepare for battle!

Let me be clear, I do not in any way recommend you read this book to your child. While it masquerades as a childrens' book, it contains adult profanities that you probably don't want your child knowing at this tender age. “Go the F*#k to Sleep” is a work of inspired genius for every parent – whether of one child or ten – and can help us all, at least for a moment, laugh at ourselves.

Now, I need a sequel for advice to get her to take a F*#king Bath!