October 9, 2002

Night owl bedtime ruffles feathers

By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor

Convincing a night owl to fall asleep before 10 p.m. can ruffle a few feathers - especially a fledgling wearing footed pajamas.
Restless nights are a necessary part of parenthood. When your 17-year-old is out at midnight with the family minivan, you wouldn't dare fall asleep. When your seven-month-old is bouncing in her exersaucer at this hour, sleep is not an option either. While you can take away car keys, night owl genetics are nearly impossible to remove.
Starting last month, Ella took to swimming in the Leiva late night gene pool. Unfortunately, she followed her grandfather, aunt and daddy-o right off the deep end. Now getting her to bed before the nightly news is a tough deadline.
While Ella inherited my hairline and well-defined philtrum, her mental clock is also wound the same. Which is why we both find playing with blocks during Jay Leno's monologue perfectly normal. My wife doesn't see the humor - in Jay or 'Godz-ella' knocking over downtown Tokyo after 11:30 at night.
It doesn't take genetic research to conclude that Ella was predisposed to stay up late. The Leiva's have a long history of late nights:
- My father won't set the VCR to record "Gunga Din" at 2 a.m. on American Movie Classics - he works the record button himself.
- My sister thinks nothing of starting a home improvement project - like repainting the kitchen - well after midnight.
- My family opens presents on Christmas morning - around 1 a.m. that is.
Myself, I've always had an affinity for all-nighters.
In college, staying up 24 hours straight studying for an exam was simply part of the procrastinator's curriculum. My crowning achievement was a 30 page term paper on George Orwell's "Animal Farm" written using a word processor, Cliff Notes and several two liters of Mountain Dew. This 48-hour sleepless odyssey led to my one and only out-of-body experience in the middle of Non-Western Literature class.
Working late at night, or early in the morning, is hardly new territory for me.
Several years ago, I spent 18 months stocking shelves in a grocery store. Working the 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift, my body adjusted to eating lunch at midnight and going to sleep after sunrise. However, I could never get my mind around the Muzak played over the store PA system. Nothing tests your will to live like putting up canned peas at 4 a.m. to a Muzak cover of "Hotel California."
I won't even go into laying underneath the chassis of a 3,700 pound vehicle at 3 a.m., tightening a bolt in increments less than a millimeter, your hair covered in 30 weight motor oil. It's a late night story longer than the last sentence - 19 hours to be exact.
Given my family history, I have a hard time helping Ella catch the nightly train to Sleepyville. In fact, I often unintentionally derail those efforts. I guess playing airplane or peek-a-boo isn't considered white noise advantageous to sleep. When daddy starts yawning, and baby is still bright-eyed, I know the situation is serious.
Suffice it to say, Ella won't go down for the counting of sheep without a fight. Luckily her left jab is weak, unfortunately her little lungs pack a wallop. Following the advice of other parents with babies resistant to bedtime, we should let Ella cry if her tummy is full, diaper empty and her body not physically in danger.
One problem: Ella doesn't sob, boohoo or blubber. She screams. A bit like Linda Blair in the "Exorcist," but our heads are left spinning. So proving ourselves wimpy parents, the bedtime tough love approach lasted a mere 20 minutes.
Now I'm sure some parenting expert can point out the errors of our bedtime ways. Perhaps I'll thumb through the "Help Your Baby Sleep Better" article in this month's Baby Talk magazine tonight during Jay's monologue. That is if some little night owl's talons don't rip out the pages.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com