It's not because I'm an awesome parent or because I've found the ultimate answer to the age old question - how the hell do I get these kids to stay in their damn beds all night because I'm old and tired and I hate under eye bags? It's because I'm mean and I don't care if my kids cry.
Whoa, Tonto, put down the phone, no need to call DYS yet. Of course, I care if they cry if it's important. If they're sick or in pain or terrified of the ceiling (? IT'S JUST A CEILING, THERE'S NOTHING THERE BUT PAINT). But, thirsty? Not tired? Itchy? Blankets on wrong? Hair rubbed the wrong way? Favorite sock/PJs/toy/animal/blanket/pillow/paraphernalia of any sort missing?
I. don't. care.
I had to walk up here to tell you how much I don't care? You owe me fifteen minutes in your bed in the morning. While we eat breakfast. Which means you eat a plain waffle for breakfast on the way to where ever I'm going.
That kind of includes my older babies, I admit. I hit a brick wall with "OH MY GOD I AM SO DONE WITH THIS NURSING OVERNIGHT THING, I AM SO TIRED, YOU ARE JUST PLAYING, I DON'T LIKE YOU AT 2:00, 3:00, 4:00 OR EVEN 5:00 A.M." written all over it in huge, bubble graffiti at approximately nine (Gee), okay seven (Cue), okay six (Nate) months and I let my babies cry it out.
Gasp. I know. The C. I. O. words. So blase. So years beginning of time through 1990. So cruel and heartless. Dude. Comere. Closer. Closer. Divulging parenting secret the experts won't tell you. (Whispering) it totally works.
It generally takes about forty-five minutes the first night, less from there, and after four days, with all three boys, it's been over and my life has returned to blissful well-restedness.
I'm not advocating crying it out. I'm not judging anyone who responds to every whimper until their kid is five. I don't think you are a bad parent if you absolutely can not bear the crying and you respond. I don't think you are a bad parent if you think it's important to comfort children to sleep and you nurse your three-year-old at 2:00 a.m./let your kids sleep in your bed/sleep in your kids' beds/hang upside down from your kids' ceiling until they fall asleep.
I am NOT judging sleep choices.
Flip side is: you don't get to judge me either. Yep. I let them cry. And it's not because I love my kids less than you do. It's not because my kids are less precious than yours. It's not because I'm a hard ass or I don't have feelings or I think it's fun to listen to a baby wail for forty-five minutes.
I just don't think whether or not we respond to kids at night determines outcomes. I don't think it matters, particularly, where you are on the spectrum of child raising from the most attachmenty of attachment parents all the way down the continuum to what some might call, ahem, drill sargenty. I don't think my kids will end up ruling the world because we all slept 10 hours a night and your kids will end up in jail. I don't think my kids will end up in jail because I was mean about bedtime and your kids will have six Ph.Ds. If consistency and love are there, I think it's kind of a crap shoot. Scary, I know.
Also, I am selfish and I consider sleep probably one of the top three most important things in my life along with hot showers and chocolate chip mint ice cream. I rank my sleep above causing my children mild upset/distress/discomfort. I don't put it above their health, safety or reasonable well being. I do consider it more valuable than avoiding forty-five minutes of crying at six-months-old. That's just me.
Enter Nate. Delightful, flirty Nate of the sinfully cute smiles. At three in the morning. Gah. I gave myself a concussion on that wall the week before Christmas at about three a.m. while he was gnawing on my nipple purely for entertainment and companionship and not at all for nutrition or because he intended to soothe himself back to dreamland in any kind of appropriately prompt manner and I let him cry himself to sleep three nights in a row. I nursed him down in my arms, ignored the fact that he transfers from arms to rigged chair/bassinet contraption like a hungry polar bear with a toothache, let him cry himself to sleep and then ignored his fussing/cooing/smiling ass until 6:00 a.m.
It worked. He slept better. Until he got a really bad cold the day after Christmas and yes, even heartless wicked witch me can not leave a baby wailing in his rigged bassinet when he can not breathe through his nose. I caved and now that he can breathe I'm going to have to start all the damn way over again.
I know that this second go around should involve his crib, but I don't want to make the switch because he sleeps so well in that car seat when he sleeps. I absolutely do recommend the car seat in bassinet sleeping system for small babies. They breathe better when they are upright like that and they are all snuggly in there.
Behold, the car seat/bassinet contraption of sleepfulness.
And. Bonus. For that tricky transition from arms to car seat/bassinet? I can nurse him in the car seat. That's right. I can set him in the car seat and still nurse him. I have really talented nipples.
I absolutely am. My left nipple is in his mouth. You can see his wee toes on the bottom left. I have crazy nursing multitasking skills. In just a moment, I can pop it out and leave him cashed out in the chair. Where he'll stay, sleeping peacefully for two or three hours. Unless it's the middle of the night and I'm actually trying to sleep, at which point, I give him fifteen minutes.
Nate and I went to his six month well baby check on Tuesday and my pediatrician, who has been through four babies with me and knows me well, asked me casually if he was still sleeping in his car seat.
Me: Uh huh.
Dr. Sarah: You should probably start thinking about transitioning to a crib. Or a flat surface of any sort.
Me: Uh huh. I know. I will. It's just, he's kind of a light sleeper and we just did the crying thing and then he slept through the night for like two days and then he got an awful cold, so you know. But, I will. I know I need to do it. He's starting to sit up and he's going to roll himself right out of that seat and hit the floor.
She laughed because she's awesome and relaxed like that.
Dr. Sarah: Well he'll be fine as long as it's on carpet.
Aha. It totally is. Now.
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