Sleep is important. Like oxygen, and food, and Oprah. I knew when I signed up for motherhood, the remainder of my living days would be spent measuring the quantity and quality of it. Whose gettin it, whose not, how much, how little, and what absurd lengths we had to go to achieve it.
Let's talk about the law of Common Sense for just a minute before I jump into this sad sad tale o' crying. There will always be someone out there making some 'camp' look like shit for the rest of the COMMON SENSE folk. I made, and make now, the assumption that these books - their authors - and the MAJORITY of people seeking to implement their methods HAVE IT.
That means that if your child is special needs, gassy, refluxy, still nursing around the clock, sitting in a big ol stank diaper, too hot, too cold, has his head stuck inbetween the crib bars, is laying in a puddle of vomit, is hungry, teething, didn't sleep all day, is jetlagged, has a fever, an earache, or a massive boog blocking his airway, and is overall feeling like shit...ya probably might aught to help a brother (or sistah) out. Otherwise you are just a complete fucking asshole.
I also think that not all parenting decisions will 'feel' right. We make lots of decisions in life that are hard, and feel like crap, but we do them because we believe its what is best in the long run.
After you let your child cry balls-to-the-wall for a day or two (and in our case..not ever for more than 25 minutes at a time)...you will begin to have a better feel of whats right and whats not right. Contrary to what some believe, Oban did not just 'give up!' on crying because we didn't rush to his side for a few nights. We did not dull him. He does not appear to be brain damaged - his mood has been unaffected, and just to be sure I ask him how his cortisol levels are doing every morning. We're straight. And believe it or not, he still cries! We have not silenced him. Now THAT would be a cool trick. Kidding.
My mother let me cry. I axed her. And I've only needed like 2 maybe 3 years of therapy in my 31 years - so far. That's pretty damn impressive. So I have a itty bit of anxiety. Nothing a little Xanex here and there can't cure. And for the record I would bet NAF (Narcissistic Alcoholic Father) probably trumped CIO (Cry it Out) in the anxiety-inducing department. But what do I know.
Now my husband on the other hand - also a "CIO" baby - he is like the chillest person on the face of the planet. The ADD actually makes him really productive. And he doesn't even need Adderall anymore! He and his mom (the infamous Vern of blog fame) - have the greatest relationship, they're like Bonnie and Clyde. Tom and Jerry. Sonny and Cher. Are you picking up what I'm putting down?
We turned out just fine. Seriously, ask anyone - we are very cool peeps.
OMG (Becky), will I ever get to this story? This has become way more epic than it really is.
Later. Today is my day off and I have to go drive around aimlessly for a few hours. Buy a vacuum cleaner or something.
