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The boys are both in bed and it’s not even 9 o’clock.  And instead of playing silly games or watching mindless riff-raff, I am here with you dear reader. 

Don’t you feel special?!?

So this going to bed thing.  It’s quite divine.  In fact, I am, yet again, celebrating the silence.  This time I’m trying a coffee laced with dark rum.  It’s pretty disgusting.  But if it makes me feel warm and fuzzy and all happy to be alive then I’ll try it. 

I should state that I do celebrate without the use of alcohol.  On occasion.

So, this beddie bye thing.

For about a month now night time has been a slippery slope into insanity.  Silas simply would not go to bed. 

Well, that’s a lie.  He did sleep. 

I should say that he did not go to sleep on his own and he did not go early.  No, instead, after hours of coddling and endless cups of milk, he would eventually drift into slumber stretched out to his maximum wingspan in our bed, kicking and shoving the whole night through.  We’d try to get him to bed around 8 and then would sigh with relief when he finally started in with the ole lazy eye around 10:30.

This might not sound like a big deal.  But, oh, it was.  Two to three hours of every evening were tied up with cooing and reading and shushing and snuggling and still the boy wasn’t getting enough sleep.  I was starting to feel highly inadequate.

So, against my husband’s wishes– in fact he called me a night-time nazi and referred to me as Ms. Rigid-Rules-and-Shit and yes, I’ve forgiven him– I employed the ole cry-it-out routine.  Again. 

And this time, like last time, it worked.

The recipe:  simply go through your pre-established bedtime routine, place the child in their crib or bed, then listen to them scream at the top of their little lungs for an undisclosed amount of time.  If necessary repeat until you have achieved the desired effect.  Chef’s Tip:  Turn the TV up to its maximum decible level to drown out the screaming.

Now do I sound like a heartless, alcoholic psycho-mama?

Good, that’s what I was trying for.

Just kidding.

So, I guess I’m making light of this shrieking routine.  It is awful.  And, while many experts claim that it is a boundary setting exercise in which children learn to soothe themselves, I am not quite sure that it isn’t more like torture.  Do what we say or the screaming will persist!  It’s like breaking a wild stallion.

Still, it works.

And here lately, I’ve been a big proponent of “whatever works”.

Recently, I spent some time with a couple of moms from a group I joined when Silas was still a new baby.  I hadn’t seen these mama/babies in awhile and it was immediately noticable how much the babies had changed.  Almost as quickly, I noticed how much I had changed.

When I was a new mom and a stay at home mom, I believe that I was deeply intense about doing things the right way.  I studied up and was really very anal.  I prided myself on homecooked baby food and reusable diapers.   I wouldn’t have the TV on if Silas was in the room and I seriously debated the long term effects of using a pacifier.  I was super uptight.  And, even worse, I was kind-of a poser.  I mean I was inauthentic.  If I strayed outside the lines– say, gave Silas a generic brand white flour biscuit– I would cover it up.  Pretend that I was all holier than holy. 

I have written about this before and I may be exaggerating a bit, but the above does describe how I felt.  At least with other mothers. 

Since then,  I’ve come clean. 

While I still try to do the right thing, I’m not all Ms. Rigid Rules.  On our last plane ride, I admittedly gave Silas Dum-Dums before take off, gave him juice (dear God, not juice!) on the way up, then popped a DVD in our portable player for the ride.  I probably would have given him Xanex if I knew it would keep him quiet.  (That’s a joke.)

But, seriously, it worked.

And, I’m proud of myself for admitting that to the other mothers.  I also shared that on the weekends we put a movie on in our bedroom and let Silas watch it while we continue to sleep.  And, I fought the urge to feel guilty when we were discussing the importance of proper shoes and I had Silas in a pair one size too large. 

These, really, are all small things.  But under a certain micrscope, they can seem astronomical.

I mean, I do what I can.

(I’m also proud that I decided not to drink the spiked coffee.  It may not seem like it, but I’ve been cutting way back.  Yay, me!)

So, back to this crying it out thing.  I refuse to analyze it.  I did it.  It only took one night and it worked.  Silas has been happily going to bed– at 8:30, in his own bed– for almost a week now.  And while it may have been the inconsistency of our traveling and vacation that knocked Silas off center initially, I refuse to feel guilty and I had to reign it in.

And, of course, I can gloat in front of my husband.

That alone makes it all the worthwhile.

So, now, dear readers, I raise my arm in triumph and with confidence to salute myself for my honesty and my sensibility and to pour this crap coffee down the sink.

Until tommorow…  or at least until very soon.

–Yours Truly

This entry was posted on Monday, August 10th, 2009 at 9:44 pm and is filed under On Competitiveness, On Sleep Training and Sanity. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.