Saturday, June 13, 2009

A new party trick for next time your power goes out

So E, with her sensory sensitivities, has been having some struggle with sleep. I confiscated her flannel bedsheets a few weeks ago because she sweats a lot in her sleep it's June already and it was time for them to fly North hide in the linen closet for the summer. (And not just because they're covered in a snowmen motif.) Well, now that she's back on percale she has trouble falling asleep. She says her sheets are too itchy.

We've always known E would have a full-sized bed and for the past two years or so, I've established a cute collection of girlie full-sized sheets based on the "fashion" bedding sales at Target. At the end of every pattern showcase, the sheets go on sale for $14.98 and I've bought sheets for my future full-sized-bedded girl. So now she has all these adorable sheets but they're of utilitarian-grade percale. They don't bother me at all to lie on them but with every movement of her body she feels another scratchy scratching. We're about to have the best-dressed pull-out sofa bed in Maryland.

I found a pair of 300-count sheets in purple at a reasonable price and brought them home but I made her feel them before I took them all the way out of the package. Still scratchy. Not very scratchy like now, but still not nice. She doesn't lie on her sheets at all right now, sleeping instead on top of her comforter, so I nearly convinced myself she doesn't need sheets at all. But then thank goodness for Target, it always comes through for me. This week they had a sale on bamboo jersey sheets. It took me three Targets to find them in stock in full size in purple, but I brought them home and they past the touch test: ooooh!! Really, really soft! The kid now sleeps on nicer sheets than we do.

Compounding this week's sleep troubles, E had a mosquito bite on the back of her arm. The bite itself didn't faze her terribly but in the aftermath of its healing there was, for a few days, a raised dry spot of skin. The dry spot was unbearable for her as everything brushed against it in her sleep. Three nights in a row she woke up crying about it. The first night we changed her shirt to long sleeves. The second night, for which she had refused to go to sleep in long sleeves, she asked for a damp washcloth to hold around her arm. On the third night she wanted another washcloth but I said no, for very, very early that morning she had awoken complaining about the wet spot in her bed. I offered, instead, to put a bandaid over the dry spot. This was very enticing because I usually enforce a "no blood, no bandaid" rule. She wanted a pony bandaid. She wanted to know which color she was getting. I refused to turn the light on to find out. That was when we saw the prettiest thing: if you open a bandaid in a pitch-black room the ungluing of the outer wrapper perimeter lights up with static electricity. It happens again when you lift the little protective tabs from the two adhesive ends of the bandaid. In that moment, when I dispatched a whole line of fairy twinkle to shelter her aggrieved arm, I thoroughly reinforced in her mind that yes, Mama really can make everything okay. One more crisis averted. Pin It