It's 7:41 p.m. As I write, Ryker is screaming in his crib at the top of his lungs. Judge if you will. Don't feel guilty about it. I judge all of your parenting skills. Isn't that what mothers do to one another? A way to justify the other morning when I accidentally snipped his finger when clipping his nails? It helps boost our own motherly esteem, inching us closer to earning the 'World's Greatest Mom' coffee mug.
I'm the mom, when asked the ever popular question that goes hand in hand with, "Are you nursing?" and "Is he teething?"... "Is he sleeping through the night?" My response since he was six weeks old came in an apologetic (with hidden graciousness and a wee bit of conceit) tone, "We are so lucky. He has always been a good sleeper."
Well, I have untaught the act of soothing himself to sleep... (I just caved and went up to read him a couple of stories) He is still crying, doing what I wished he would - Crying when I put him down and holding his arms out for me. Be careful what you wish for.
As I tried to rekindle those snuggles I feel I was cheated in those early days because he slept well on his own, I realize it isn't all it's cracked up to be. That's an understatement.
In an act to reclaim my infant as a newborn, I lost my will to leave him be at the slightest peep. Selfishly wanting to run to his rescue, scoop him up and smother myself in his needing his mommy. Well, it worked and now I kick myself in the ass and as he's left up there "abandoned" as I once again enforce that "bedtime is sleep time" - The lesson we studied and passed months ago.
Why would I do this to all of us?
(Wait... he stopped. 8:03 p.m.) Exhale. (Heading up to have a peak to make sure everything is OK. You always check in when things go quiet.)
So it's really not bad. I can say that now, right? Because he is asleep.
Phew. Now I can be that mom again. Ask me if he's sleeping through the night.
"Well, he's having a hard time getting to sleep lately, but we're so lucky he sleeps through the night."
I couldn't resist.
2.8.12
In those times you're supposed to be asleep...
Did I mention how I embrace the moment in the glow of the hallway light when you rest your head on my left shoulder and then bring your arm up to grip around my other with your tiny, warm hand?
3.8.12