The "Lost" cure

I'm desperately trying to catch up on "Lost."

But when can a person watch TV with all of these people never sleeping around here? I can't very well plunk Chebbles down in front of abc.com and treat her to a bunch of violent hollering and gunplay.

But I'm terrified that someone will tell me what happened in Thursday's season finale.

I've missed the last five episodes because I was, well, busy. But that can no longer be an excuse. I must make time to fit "Lost" into my life or someone's going to blow that finale for me. (Yeah, I'm talking to YOU, Contra Costa Times.)

Luckily, Baby V seems to find "Lost" soothing. I won't let her look at the screen, but perhaps because I watched the first three seasons on DVD while I was pregnant with her, it's as though the theme song touches some deep fetal relaxation reflex for her.

Maybe there is something about Sayid's pretend Iraqi accent, or Kate's wheedling fakery that makes her go to sleep. I don't care WHAT it is, we're going to keep plowing through these shows in hopes that I catch up and she keeps up the sleep.

Using the "Lost" technique, I cradled her through a whole episode-and-a-half last night. Then she went down with nary a whimper at 9pm. People were getting killed with knives and she was just nodding off throughout the action.

Maybe I can find some sort of "Lost" white noise machine, that combines bits of dialogue, the theme song, and the mysterious jungle whispers, and play that all night long in her nursery.

Because yeah, she woke up again at 1:30am, 4am, 6am then 7am then 8am. But that is an improvement over last week. So hit it, Dr. Shepherd and Hurley, put my baby to sleep.