Ain’t no rest for the whiff-less. (So sport this scented mask to sleep.)

So… we’ve covered face covers that blind you at bedtime.

And we’ve covered aromatherapy that lulls your olfactory bulb to slumbertown.

But tonight, none’a those au naturale means of getting to sleep are working anymore.

So, why not wed the two?

Why reach for a pill to mask the symptoms when a mask that’s scented will do?

Somehow, despite my championing of both blinders and aromatherapy, it’s never occurred to me to try a hybrid of the two. I mean, the scented pillows and candles are great, but they just end up respectively falling off or lighting your house on fire. (Both of which will just wake you up. Hopefully.) With this fitted fragrant, veil, however – you can literally be rest assured zero of that’ll happen. On the contrary, you get the benefit of blocking out the light pollution leaking in through your blinds plus a constant aromatic stream cascading down from your shuttered vision organs and into your neighboring face holes. Plus the thing moves right along with you if you (like myself) whirl like a horizontal Sufi on your mattress all night. Plus no fires. (Which, as we’ve established, are also inconvenient when you’re trying to sleep.)

And why bother with this odored optical cover? Why not just buy regular blinders?

Isn’t this smelly stuff just a bunch’a hippie nonscents?

According to the dudes who do science, not so.

Aromas (particularly those like lavender) can have a powerful effect on our nervous system, relieving those nagging anxieties and even the physical pain that’s often the insomnia instigator. In fact, they even did this one study pairing the perfumed oil with an actual mask. The results? In cases of chronic pain patients (suffering everything ranging from slipped discs to C sections to period cramps), the therapy had a significant impact on their ouch levels. Or at least the pain in these peeps happened to be greatly reduced in those who happened to be subjected to the stuff (I have to add that bit in ’cause technically correlation doesn’t equal causation).

Per NCBI:

It has been shown that lavender aromatherapy through an oxygen face mask with two drops of 2% lavender oil can be used to reduce the demand for opioids in twenty-five patients after immediate postoperative period of breast biopsy surgery.

As for testing the stuff on actual insomniacs? The lavender did not disappoint there, either.

In fact, they even tried replacing tranqu’d out subjects’ scripts with whiffs of this deliciousness. And, initially, of course things were worse (because: withdrawal). But, once they’d quit and their bodies stopped being dependent on the chemicals, everything alleviated. And, suddenly, sleep was no longer some elusive, un-catchable white rabbit. (Which was probably what they really saw when they were on all those slumber drugs.)

All thanks to some “airy fairy” aromatherapy. (#hatersgonnahatewakersgonnawake)

So before you hit up the pill mill? Or granny’s cabinet?

Mayhaps try a dose o’ nose glee via your sight concealer instead.

Are airborne alien invaders the reason you can’t sleep?

Why do I have such terrible sleeps in my own bed?

Compared to those comfy hotel ones?


“Maybe it’s because I know someone who isn’t me is gonna be making this bed when I’m done with it.”

For ages, I blamed it on every potential culprit I could conjure up:

From the mattress itself and EMF waves… to alien invaders.

And, according to science, I’m not far off with my body invader theory. Or the mattress for that matter.

Granted, these unwelcome tenants residing in my body hotel might not be extraterrestrials. (There’s your good news. Now for the bad…) But what they are can be any number of any other inimical things floating in the periphery and waiting for our nasal passages to Hoover them up at night. And that list comprises everything from dust mites and mold spores to viruses, bacteria, and whatever’s living on on your shih-tzu’s fur. Hey, here’s a fun bedtime tale: we spend all night unknowingly inviting in droves of these sorts’a creatures through our face caves. The end. (Is it any wonder you don’t feel ‘yourself’ in the morning when your soul’s been supplanted with and possessed by these clouds of demonic dust?) And how’s the mattress factor into this? Well, because it’s like a big, endless, dirty, Burning Man party for particulate matter to play in. Your mattress, that is, and your pillows. And he electronic collection hiding under your bed. And whatever else lives in your room that’s covered in a rug of dust because you’re too lazy to clean. So, how’s that affect sleep? Well, when you’re laying there, marinating in subconscious reverie, and suddenly you wake up for no reason… often that’s ’cause you can’t breathe. Or how about all those mornings you’ve woken up stuffy, voiceless, and hacking up green gunk?


“Eric, darling, be a lamb and give us a dose of ‘tussin..”

That’s right. You can thank your fleet of airborne friends for that.

If you’re like me, though, you may not have time to keep up with all that cleaning. Wielding a wand of feathers just isn’t in my game plan. Not when I’ve got endless laundry to do and an athletic addiction to manage. So, what’s a good fix between my annual seasonal cleaning? What else can I do to clear my home so that I’m not home to micro-monsters and their chemical friends? Why, beat my own face to the punch, of course. By enlisting a machine to suck them up before my nose or oral cavity can.

Enter: the air purifier.

Per a Harvard study, these machines can have a dramatic effect on rest and respiration:

“The Harvard study was able to demonstrate that as air quality decreased, the severity of SDB symptoms increased. In fact, obstructive sleep-apnea sufferers were 13 percent more likely to experience a 10-second interruption during peak pollution periods. Although this does not prove a direct causal relationship, it does establish an undeniable association. The likely reason for the association, according to the lead researcher, Diane Gold, is that the pollution particles are affecting the central nervous system and thus exacerbating the symptoms. She also stated that the particles may be causing upper airway inflammation.”


(If you’re not searching for the R2D2 of dust suckers, then a simple one like this HEPA’ll do.)

Sure, you can go all out and get the ones that make white noise, dehumidify, or fart out essential oils into the air. However, if you’re a basic bish like me (just looking to stop waking up with NASA level snot rockets every morning. Or just stop waking up every hour every night because: suffocation), a plain purifier might be your best bet. So, if you’ve exhausted all possibilities for why you’re exhausted, maybe getchyou one’a these things. It’ll vacuum up all those mites, bacteria, and Scientology volcano aliens, so your face won’t. And then you won’t have to wonder anymore what makes hotel beds or strangers’ places so much more tranquil for turn’t down time than your parasite air palace.

In fact, that must be a slogan for at least one brand of these things:

“Let us suck …so your sleep doesn’t have to.”

Bath salts that *keep* you from being a zombie (by morning).

Some bath salts turn you into a zombie.

And some keep you from being one come tomorrow morning… by giving you a great rest tonight.

Today we’re gonna bring back to that relaxing meaning – for the sake of sleep.

(And this sexy retro Suvari still to keep your attention for the next 30 to 45 seconds):


“Deep tubtime thoughts: never shave in salt bath lest you emerge looking like the surface of a basketball.”

But instead’a snorting or smoking or whatever it is you do with the other substance, we’re gonna drug up with the safe kind – by absorbing it into our skin. (Which we won’t be gnawing off later because – despite the same names – it’s not the same thing as the synthetic drug kind in which our infamous Southerly cannibal dabbled.) In fact, this’s all stuff you can buy right off your local supermarket shelves. The ingredients? Morton’s natch epsom salts, baking soda, and you. Super simple. And, to be honest, I’ve heard of this before. However, what I’ve never asked is: how? How do these things I’m meant mix in that giant oval cauldron my body goes in… help me fall asleep? Is it a placebo effect? Confirmation bias because I wasted money on this so it better work? Wait… is this actually heroin in here and you guys just lied to me?

The truth is, there’s actually a science to this slumber stew you simmer in.

For one, the epsom salts work ’cause they’ve got magnesium sulphate in ’em. To those of you cocking your head to the sides confused-dog style, magnesium’s good for bad nights because it’s a natural muscle relaxer. What it does it usher calcium from your muscles, back to the blood, and let it move elsewhere. It also helps regulate glucose metabolism. All of which are vital in allowing for muscle relaxation. And, while that explanache alone may’ve put you to sleep (win-win – right?), the reason any’a that matters is because relaxing muscle tension means your body gets to turn on the “relaxation response”. (Yes, that’s a thing. And, yes, we need that toggled on for power-down time.) And why’s the blood-sugar management stuff matter? Because otherwise your hormones’ll go cray while you’re comatose, making you do things like wake in a daze at 3 A.M. on a Saturday, thinking you’re late for work, and rushing out the door with a Louboutin on the left foot and a Puma on the right.

Great… but how about the baking soda? What the fizz does that do?

This one’s a brilliant yes-and to mix with Morton’s because it’s also a doozy for snooze time. How? Because it “supplements the body with extra CO2 to be absorbed”, as one blogger puts it. See, while you’re sleeping, the flesh satchel you live in regulates your carbon dioxide levels and drives ’em higher. Especially during that deep REM sleep when all your body’s building blocks get on the grind to undo your daily destruction of them. (Thankless bastards that we are.) It’s like a nocturnal santa’s workshop of somatic mending in there – all happening while you’re zonked. Cellular repairs initiate. Stem cells multiply. And that magical damage control factory all runs on CO2. The idea, I suppose, is to kickstart this process via baking soda. Which leads some to ask: why not just eat it? And, yes, you can do that. Indeed, everyone has their own way of adding in the baking soda component. Some prefer to mix it with water. Some people prefer to mix it with vinegar. Some prefer sponging it up in a tub.

As for me?

The latter in a bath with chammomile and epsom… seems far more relaxing than ingestion. Or foaming at the mouth.

I mean, if I wanted to do that instead’a nap…. I’d just take the other kinda bath salts.

Stab myself to sleep? Challenge accepted.

Tossing and turning again?

Well, then, mayhaps you’d fancy a poke to help you get to sleep.

No, no, no… Not in the sexy English sense. I mean, while late night boot knocking might be a fantastic fix for insomnia, we’ll cover that in another article. Someday. If my overlords let me. However, the type of poking we’re gonna discuss today is a bit more literal: Acupuncture.


(Can we load mine with Botox and benzodiazapenes today please? No? That’s not a thing?)

What this practice is, essentially, is an ancient Chinese tradition that focuses on alleviating ailments by addressing these things called your meridians. Don’t know what a meridian is? I didn’t either, when I first tried this for back pain a while ago. So, I looked it up. And I learned that they’re basically energy highways in your body. According to Chinese medicine, we’ve got about twelve of ’em, and each of our organs are associated with different ones. When we’ve got mind or body issues, it’s kinda like having and accident on these meridian freeways. Things move at glacial pace. Flow of traffic’s impeded. Your chi’s too busy rubbernecking to get to its destination and back. What the needles do is come in like a medivac, ambulance, and towtruck team to clear shiz away so everyone can take their feet off the life brakes. And, fear not; it’s not like some deep stabbing pain. I’ve laid there before, all quill-ridden in a patient gown with these things sticking outta my azz and back meat. At worst, it feels like a brief tingling pinprick upon entry, then nada while you lay and wait for them to do their work.


(Often on totally different parts of your body than the piece they’re impaling.)

And what kinda success does it have?

Despite the lack of scientific evidence about “meridians” or “chi”, this is one of those self-experimentation things I highly encourage trying before knocking. Much like meditation, prayer, or yoga (or anything else that works while we dunno why), chi energy altered through other means is an utterly transformative experience. Unfortunately, we’re floating around in an age where current science (which doesn’t include all the phenomena we’ve yet to understand) reigns as god and open-mindedness to science that hasn’t been understood yet, often gets shut down. (I know – ’cause I used to be among this lot of folk.) This is a mistake – especially when it comes to our well being. It’s what turns us to pills and spending money on shiz we don’t need. Just because we can’t quantify something, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist or work. I learned this the hard way – after trying everything wrong for chronic pain – and then coming to rely on intrinsic practices like these. The moment you realize you’ve mitigated some somatic malady or emotional issue simply – sans doctors, scripts, or waiting rooms – it almost feels like you’ve gotten the cheat codes for life. Could it be this simple? Could I avoid dependency and side effects? Could “energy” based practices truly work for everything from sciatica to insomnia?

The answer, according to many, is yes.

In fact, while there may be no scientific proof of these chi freeways in your meat sack, there have been scientific studies done to see how well acupuncture functions for sleeplessness. The results? Firstly (for my worriers), there were no adverse reactions to acupuncture. Secondly (and what we’re all here for), it indeed proved effective in treating insomnia across different experiments. There was a Chinese study done with 3,811 patients in which it proved useful as a snooze inducer. Then there was also German research performed with forty snore deprived test subjects. Finally, there are innumerable testimonials out there as well from peeps who volunteered to be human dartboards and found sweet reprieve from evenings of restlessness as a result.

Thus, the next time insomnia’s got you wanting to stab yourself…

Maybe let someone else do it instead.

(Preferably someone who’s qualified in the art of Asian medicine.)

In “light” of this sleeplessness, I’m going on a “blind” date

When I was little, I’d watch my mom nap after a long night in the hospital.

And she’d always sleep with these peached colored blinders.

I couldn’t help but compare myself. I mean, terrified mini me required a night light when it was dark. And here she was blocking out any peripheral light – on purpose. She wanted it as dim as humanly possible. It would take a while before my fear of the dark morphed into more so fearing sleep deprivation. (And thusly jettisoning the bedtime lighting.) But I’m definitely there myself now. And I’m also thinking maybe mom had the right idea way back when (especially seeing as a decent barring of ambient light helps melatonin levels – the sleep bringing hormone). So, I wonder which kinda sight shades would be a good fit for me. Do they really work? Will I really get an better slumber? And – twenty-five years later – how much have they improved from those things that look like a pantyliner made of silk and lace?

Here are just a few I’ve got my unfettered (for now) eye on:

This one, called the Escape Luxury Travel Sleep Mask, not only has eyeball holes (so it doesn’t rub my mascara on those days I wanna nap sans removing my MAC mug.), but it also comes with earplugs. Much like a sensory deprivation tank, going sightless and soundless is a great way to fall into slumber undistracted. I’d say the carrying pouch is a bonus too, but let’s be honest, here. We all know I never put things where they belong. This’ll live on my bed, next to my contact case, Invisalign, and twelve bottles of partially drunken water.

Next is the Sweet Dreams Sleep Mask.

Yes. I know. But while it looks like a barely there boob covering tube top of sorts….

…that’s just ’cause it’s contoured for full luminosity blocking.

Bonus? Its lightweight nature does make it feel barely there.

Finally, is the Dreamer Sleep Mask:

Soft and cottony, this one’s indeed a fave among blinder owners. Bonus? Aside from optimal obstruction of light, it’s also got this flexible strap on it that won’t wiggle – even when you do through the night.

And the verdict?

I tend to like the sight/sound sense-stifling combo of blinders and earplugs. By blocking out sight, you sense pure darkness. But by also hindering your hearing, you’re inducing that sleep state even quicker. And, lawd knows, after holiday madness and wonky sleep patterns, a fastforward button on my mattress that propels me into delta wavery would be excellent. And this accessory seems as good a means of doing that as any. However, there are two kinds of blinders in life. Escape Luxury Travel Mask blinders… and the free ones I just found in the bottom of a bag earlier this morning when I was cleaning. Funny, I think they were actually given to me by – who else – but my mom (who inspired this article.) And, TBH, I’d be lying if I said the less high tech ones didn’t still excite me beyond words. In fact, although I’m meant to be going out tonight, I think I’mma have to stand up everyone and trial this sexy, mysterious pair of soft goggles in lieu.

Expect a review in the coming days on my “blind date”.

Are EMF’s effing up your sleep?

By now, we all know the detrimental effect late night phone play can have.

In fact, any blue light is to meant to be eschewed once dusk arrives. (Yes, I’m bad at this practice, too.) Your phone. Your ipod. The soft, azure glow of your T.V. The idea is that blue light interferes with the release of melatonin (which helps you sleep). The result? A night full’a flopping around like that bagged fish from the fair you dropped when you were six. (Oh. That wasn’t you, too? Just me? Okay. Moving on.) However, there’s yet another evil your electronic devices might be doing. Another way they’re out to destroy you when you try to retire for the night.


(Aside from this.)

EMF. Or: Electromagnetic Field.

The idea is essentially that, when you sleep next to radiation emitting devices (be it your phone or your wifi), the waves coming outta all that stuff can interfere with your own body’s chemistry. Two of the main ways they do this? Melatonin suppression and oscillation rate. Much as with the blue light issue, some claim that melatonin can be suppressed in the same way by EMF exposure at bedtime. To make matters worse, it’s said that contradictory oscillation can also stymie sleep. How? ’cause the signals vibrate at a higher number of cycles, while your bod’s is calmer (or meant to be, at least) when at rest. This creates a clash you can sense – because your mind organ wants to match up to that higher level (smart people call that entrainment).

The result?

No nodding off for you. And, I’d dismissively say this is informational dog diarrhea, except for the fact that I have experimented with (and felt the effects of) similar things like binaural beats, isochronic tones, and brain entrainment in general before. Skeptically, so, I might add. The first night my ears mainlined something called a “Brain Qualude” beat, however, I realized I’d entered a whole ‘nother world. Likewise, there are a bunch’a other resonances can leave me feeling a bit jittery. Power of suggestion? Maybe. But I’m not ready to knock a prospective remedy just because some study funded by god knows who is telling me to. Especially when I’ve got nothing to lose by testing the theory for myself. After the past few sleeps, I’m up for trying anything that’s side-effect free.

However airy fairy it may seem.


(Why? Because the aliens are sending us telepathic cappuccinos. Duh.)

Which leads me to my next point.

You’ll note (at the beginning) I’ve said this invisible enemy “might” be smiting your night’s rest. And that’s because the concept of EMF’s effect on sleep isn’t widely accepted across the scientific community. Honestly, it may or may not have any impact on shut eye. I haven’t got the means to measure it for myself. But, what I have got is curiosity. And, as a result, I’ve come to question everything even more as I enter my third decade of living. Even research. (Which can be – and is often – skewed, depending on who’s funding it.) Also, there seem to be enough people out there claiming they notice an improvement by diminishing the amount of EMFs surrounding their slumber chambers, that it seems worth listing as a possible last resort if nada else. Because, the way I see it is this: if you unplug all your appliances this week and magically have the best sleep you’ve had in years after doing so…

…then does it really matter what the experimental results were?

In a group of lab rats?

Who aren’t you?

Keep your CAR from running on post-snooze fumes

Running on fumes each AM?

Then it might be time to tuneup your CAR.

That is… your Cortisol Awakening Response.

Good, Alice.

’cause once you also see how it plays into you feeling less White Rabbit and more Red Queen every morning, it’ll make you wanna change a few habits. You see, this CAR system’s essentially an intrinsic one we’ve all got wherein cortisol (you know – that hormone that both affects stress and helps us bad azz through the day) kicks in each morning. What generally happens is that it comes on kinda soft – slowly pulling us out of our sleep pits, like a weak cup of Wawa coffee. Then… Bam! A wave of it impales our final remnants of slumber like an adrenaline needle to the cardiac cavity. Then, that’s it. We’re up. Awake. Hitting the ground like Fred Flintstone would in his own car. That is, for “normal” people. For some of us though, the motors in our CARs are slow to start each morning. And why? Because we’re feeding our body automobile the wrong kinda fuel – and while sometimes that metaphor means the obvious (like eating bad shiz) – it can also mean what we’re feeding our brains during the day. Like extra stress. As mentioned, cortisol does indeed play into stress and sleep. For example, if we’re stressing ourselves out of all day, then cortisol will run high right up until bedtime. What happens then? Essentially, an attempt to compensate for it – compliments of your body machine. Because the hormone’s been high all day long, your CAR gets stymied by sunrise. And, for you, that means a sluggish departure from dreamtime.

So how can we recalibrate our CAR?

How can we make it more reliable? So it can better get us around til sundown?

According to the experts – there are a few things you can do. Firstly, as mentioned, food is indeed crucial. Flavanoid rich eats, for example, can help curtail cortisol’s climbs during the day which are effing up your engine. Need a diesel grade recommendache? Try on for size a breakfast of berries and green tea. (Peppered with protein, of course, if you’re an A.M. aerobic rat, like me.)

And even before that, as you get out of bed, try some light. ’cause natural photon exposure can kickstart your consciousness too. Sure, things like dawn simulating alarm clocks have been suggested. So has the idea to “check your phone” (because of the faux light exposure it also imparts). As for me personally? I champion the old-fashioned way: getting off ya azz and opening the blinds. Half of what you want is to wake up, yes? So why not make like you are by getting out of bed and acting alive?

(Also: Far too easy to get stuck in bed lost in emails and interaction after you “just check your phone”.)

As a yes-and to that, something that might inspire you to do that moving is another personal fave:

Having a mission.

Per research done in Psychoneuroendocrinology, consciously prepping for “big days” issues a boost like none other for people coming outta their nightly coma. And, much like the healthy breakfast suggestion, I can attest to this one. I’ve never felt more awake and ready to go than the morning of my first race a couple months ago. (In fact, I’m pretty sure I was up a couple minutes before my alarm even went off. But that might just be because I’ve started to hate the sound of it so much that my subconscious developed next level chronoception to beat it to the punch. I digress.) The real lesson here? We should make every morning matter. If you have a job where people hold you accountable, then great. That’ll help heaps. But if you’re suffering because you work from home only, do what I do on days when I write from my own abode (a tip which I acquired from people smarter than I am): set a day itinerary the night before. And schedule it around something interactive. Whether it’s a yoga class in the morning or Toastmasters meeting at night, knowing that you have somewhere to be can help rev your dawn o’ clock engine and make you more productive in the interim.

And then, finally, know when to stop being productive. An hour or two before jumping under your covers, it’s suggested that you eschew work and wind down. The logic here is that if you’re doing things that are excessively stimulating, then those cortisol levels’ll spike anew at night – inducing the same thing that happens when you’re stressed out all day: a suppressed CAR come wake-up time. (I tend to think that staying up late and watching titillating dramas can’t be helpful either: Hashtag: Guilty. Hashtag: IntoTheBadlands)

All of this advice that comes from the pros is excellent. However, unlike an actual car, when it comes to our CAR, there’s a relevant disparity. And that’s the fact that we’re all blessed with unique cerebral-somatic connections that tell us what’s right or wrong for us respectively. So my advice (which for once I’m going to take myself) would be for you fellow fuel guzzlers coming up short in the mornings to try one or two of these things at a time for several weeks. See if they work. And if they don’t? Then throw ’em out and try filling your tank with the next grade o’ energy petroleum. Still got problems? Maybe take that whip your spirit lives in to a health specialist.

Best of luck, bishes.

See you at the starting line.

Can this alien looking plant help you sleep?

After a to-do infused day, your body’s finally ready for sleep.

But not that organ incarcerated in your cranium. It’s wide awake, ready to solve riddles, and ceaselessly issuing you useless stress inducing information (like the fact that you forgot to turn on the dishwasher before burying yourself under the softest fleece blanket in the world). The barrage of bullets your brain’s suicidally delivering itself’s almost enough to make you miss that prescription for those pills with all the horrible side effects. Almost. For those of us who avoid the pills (or who’ve trialed and errored them before avoiding them), sometimes white noise, meditation, or playing Yanni on loop just isn’t sufficient to elicit the kiss of the Grim Reaper’s cousin. On nights like these, sometimes something supplemental (but natural) is entirely welcome. And bit by bit, I’m slowly learning about a ton of these little known cures for your hyper head at bedtime. Wild lettuce, for example, is one highly celebrated remedy we covered on this site not long ago.

And today’s nighttime herb?

Passionflower.


(Tell me that doesn’t look like it should be cornering Sigourney Weaver in a spaceship…)

The way this stuff works is by upping the level of a chemical in your brain called GABA. See, when GABA’s on the rise, that means all that cranial combat we just mentioned above finally can diminish. For that reason, it’s a formidable foe of insomnia and a fantastic friend at rest hour. And, as for research on the stuff? Much as with wild lettuce, it’s not always easy to find facts on stuff that companies can’t profit off (because they can’t patent natural herbs in their products). But it definitely exists.

Per studies done Dr. Michael Traub under Gaia herbs, the stuff had a significant impact in the lab:

“The efficacy of P. incarnata tea on sleep quality was measured by an Australian team in a controlled fashion in a study of 41 healthy young adults, using sleep diaries validated by polysomnography plus an anxiety inventory. Subjects with a history of sleep disorder were excluded. Participants were exposed to 1 cup of either Passionflower or placebo tea (Parsley) for one week, followed by a 1 week ‘washout’ period, and then crossed over. Sleep quality was significantly better (p <0.01) for those who drank Passionflower tea."


Indeed, the pros propose taking it in tea form. (Perfect hair, lighting, and face-posing optional.)

And, now, we end on a bit of duh-but-necessary-to-add-in advice:

Don’t take this stuff if you’re pregnant or breastfeeding. Ask your doctor first if you’re one of those people who’s allergic to everything or prone to psychosomatic reactions. (We all known at least one.) And, finally, just ’cause it came straight outta mother nature’s womb, doesn’t mean it can’t bring about harm should you overdo it. Anything that alters your body chemistry at all – from herbs to the chemical turds big pharma shizzes out – can potentially be detrimental if not moderated. So, restrict your intake, say the experts. Save it for those bad nights – and you’ll be good in the long run. As for me, personally? The only thing that makes me raise and eyebrow is the fact that it must taste like parsley – seeing as that’s what they used for the placebo during the research.

But if that’s the worst bit about this twisted flower reminiscent of an alien preparing to pounce?

Then hand my fried mind a cup five minutes ago.

’cause parsley’s still a better slumber love story than pills.

Fixes for the adorable barrier between you and sleep

“Once upon a time (this morning, actually), something dawned on me about dusk…”

When the sun sets, and childless folk like myself are all toddling off to bed, toddlers and newborns everywhere are keeping poor snooze deprived moms awake. You see, I’ve written a great deal on here about everything from extracts to mantras that’ll help you doze off. But what I always also say is to look for the underlying issue (be it stress related or poor daytime habits). However, what I forgot, is that sometimes the underlying issue is less about stress than your yawnless spawn, failing to differentiate between day and night. Sometimes, the force to be reckoned with is the size of your forearm. But, whether you’re getting a 2 A.M. “can’t sleep” door knock or a horror flick level guttural howl sounding off from the sentient potato in the crib next door, know that these fleshy alarm clocks can be retrained.

That said, as someone who’s childfree (and intends to remain as such), this meant I had to do a li’l delving into the professionals’ kinder corner of the interwebs. If nothing else, I figured, boning up on baby stuff would prepare me well for the next nugget my brother’s wife bears in the coming years. And what did I learned from my musings? Well, that mini-humans are a lot like mythical monsters from those stories we heard when we were their age. (And also refusing to sleep.) You know? The sleeping creatures the hero would have to skillfully avoid waking up in order to escape a cave sans being eaten? According to the pro’s, some key do’s and don’t’s can salvage sleep time. For the both’a you’s.

And there’s a bit of a formula – starting with baby formula (or food). What the experts say is to keep consistency with this. Make feeding time, if you can, around the same time before bed. In fact, it’s suggested that for babies and slightly older young’n’s alike, a ritual be ingratiated, if you can manage it. And not just for food, either. Maybe it’s a bath, booktime, or backrub. Maybe it’s debriefing the day’s highlights. Whatever you do, though, avoid turning this nocturnal turn down practice into a Barnum ‘n Bailey’s floorshow. That’ll just awaken the beast and make ’em crave more. Same goes for when your younger ones wake up. Once they’re about two weeks old, you can start associating the diff between day and night. How? Make the days superstimulating, the nights super quiet, and any witching hour wakeups devoid of light, levity, or lingual interaction.

Something else that’s overstimulating? Exchanging optical contact with an infant.


(“It’ll eat your soul!”)

One loving look from you can stir the demon to its very depths. Signs of affection drive your baby nuts. Since they don’t have the capacity for language yet, your micro-expreshes are all they have to go on. And if your eyes are adoringly saying, “Ah, look at this magnificent pile of flesh I half manufactured”, they’ll catch on. But they can’t read minds. So they can only assume it means what it usually does: time to cuddle and share your affection. And while their response may turn your blood pumper into melted butter, it won’t help you tomorrow A.M. when you’re tapping your tourniquet strangled limb and prepping to inject hot java intravenously.

But, while that morning java may be hot, your pint sized crying machine’s room shouldn’t be at night. The body needs to be cool during down time to power off. Thus, somewhere in the ballpark of 65 to 70 degrees is what I tend to keep seeing as far as recommendations go. In fact, a stuffy room’s no good for a human at any level of their growth – whether you’re a seedling or a few moonrises away from lumber status.

And the best time to usher them off to their chilly dream quarters? That “routine” advice comes back into play here. They say to set it somewhere betwixt 7 and 8, for the slightly older kids. ’cause the thing about kids is that the world’s still new and exciting and they like being stimulated by it. Much like we delay delta wave surfing in favor of our interactive phones for an hour past shut eye o’ clock, they wanna put off shut eye time, too, to do the same thing in their own way. But since the world’s still so enthralling, that means that it doesn’t matter whether it’s 7 P.M. or midnight.

Nothing’s enough to satiate these bloodthirsty creatures who feast on entertainment and your attention.

So you might as well schedule bed early – and consistently so.

Unless it’s an infant. They always require a little workaround. So, for them (and actually, this applies to older kids too), it’s suggested you note the signs. Being the intuitive mom or dad that you are, you pro’lly already know what they are for the toddler and above age range: crankiness, fussiness, stealing eachother’s drool spattered handheld gaming consoles… And for the wee bits? Around 6 to 8 weeks, it’s suggested that you actually put ’em down when they’re rocking that drowsy nod – but not yet knocked out. Why? Because if they get used to falling asleep in your arms (being rocked or whatever), then they’ll come to depend on that. Which is fine if you don’t mind the hateful task of habit breaking later. But if they acclimate to falling asleep solo, then the idea’s that they’ll do that on their own sooner.

In the end, there’s obviously a few caveats.

First, there’s probably a handful I missed that you’d like to either add or know about. (Respectively feel free to do that in the comments or click the links dispersed throughout this article to do all’a that.) Also: not everyone’s gonna agree with these suggestions. And that’s alright. They’re not ideas I made up, so I won’t feel badly about that. I’m not a mom, so I can’t intermittently interject my “I concur” or “This’s horseshiz” filter into these shared musings from the self proclaimed pros. In fact, as with anything I’d issue health-advice wise for you personally, I highly suggest you peruse far more than some kid-less chick’s research on the matter for your own flesh ‘n blood. Finally, as a yes-and to that, I champion you using your parental powers. As someone who actually gave birth to that thing who won’t doze off tonight, don’t be afraid to also use your god given sixth sense and intuition I’m told new human owners are gifted upon evicting their offspring from their bodies.

Best of luck to you and your lovably sadistic sleep stealers.

“…and they all slept sporadically ever after…”

Can the mattress be your classroom?

If you’re anything like me, your brain’s cravings for stimulation don’t end just ’cause the day does.

Long after sunset, I’m watching documentaries or reading. Any 24 hour period sans some sort of an educational or “aha!” moment just feels like a wasted one for me. Even when my head’s uncooperative and fatigued, I climb into bed, thinking, “I can’t just end on this note, can I?” Maybe that’s why I so frequently turn to technology – specifically recorded hypnoses – to try and pawn off my self betterment quest as homework for my subconscious. The nice thing about that practice (for me at least) is that, allegedly, it means I get to be both lazy and learn. Change my mind’s bad thought habits somehow. Retrain unhelpful mental loops. Learn how to human better. All while I’m K.O.

But I’ve always questioned it: does the stuff really work?

Can I truly get schooled whilste I snooze?


(Hey, it worked for Franco.)

According to my “experience”, I can’t aptly answer that. Because, as a restless headed person, I always wanna try something new. I’ve never made the commitment to listening to the same hypnosis (which is supposedly what you’re meant to do) for an extended period. Thus, I needed to turn to some pros and their published findings to discover whether or not hypnosis can David Blaine your brain into something next level, like some Matrix-ian reprogramming.

And what’d I find?

That hypnosis isn’t simply effective at helping you get a better sleep.

It also can effect you on a deeper, sensory level. Mere associations can get so driven into your skull that they remain once rest has ended. In fact, some Israeli research done a few years back observed exactly this when they exposed slumbering subjects to sounds coupled with scents. If they played a tone with an odor that was unfavorable, then they’d shorten their respiration when they heard the noise alone. Likewise, a nice aroma juxtaposed against another noise yielded the opposite results – when they heard the tone alone, their breathing deepened like a basic white girl walking into a Starbucks. And, while this association was, of course, initially ingrained while they were snoring away, it was surprisingly still there once they awoke and were subjected to the auditory stimuli all over again.

This is kinda mindblowing, when you consider that associations like smell are closely related to emotion. It also means we’re so suggestible in our sleep that we don’t even need actual directions to sponge up ambient information. The pairing of other simple stimuli – like smell and sound – are enough to implant a Pavlovian type response in us that carries over into our waking world. In a way, that makes me really regret all those years I slept with the T.V. on while my logic were centers off. In a way, that makes me not want to listen to any hypnoses at night anymore. What if my brain hears the words wrong? And learns a bad assoche that I have to live with forever?


“Did she say you are one with the cosmos at all times? Or you really wanna cosmo… with fresh lime?”

(And, in another way, it makes me think that a fantastic million-dollar idea would be an aromatherapy-hypnosis package I sell to unassuming souls, pairing the scent of their favorite childhood comfort food with a strong desire to buy all the useless paraphernalia I’m pushing as they tell everyone else to do the same.)

But, despite my newly acquired apprehensions, I’m admittedly still intrigued.

Hey, maybe I can find one to teach me how to unplug and pause my noggin for seven straight hours.

(Right after it teaches me Mandarin.)