twotothree

What a little monster Gloria was tonight.  We haven't  had one of these days in so long, I forgot what it was like.  Nothing made her happy, she screamed for the bottle, contentedly ate for twenty seconds, pushed the bottle away and screamed some more.  She wanted to be on  her back.  No, she wanted to be on her stomach.  No, she wanted to be sitting up.  My house smells like the cabbage that I had for dinner, and that I didn't have time to clean up.  The house is going to continue smelling like cabbage until tomorrow.

Her bedtime routine, which is usually a peaceful and easy transition, was a disaster.  She wouldn't stop crying,  She got herself so worked up that she puked down my neck.  (Another thing that I'm not washing until tomorrow ... I'm exhausted.  Enjoy, Mike.)

Her doctor, whom I greatly respect and agree with on just about everything else, endorses the "cry it out" method of "sleep training."  While I don't believe the questionably scientific studies that claim "cry it out" creates long-term anxiety disorders and psychological damage, and I will never judge another parent for making a choice that feels right to them, I just can't get behind that method for myself.  I feel that if a young baby is programmed to scream for its parents, there's probably a biological reason for it.  (Though I can understand using a little proverbial tough love at bedtime when they're older and you can communicate better with them.)  Mike and I tried cry-it-out a couple of times, out of desperation for sleep, and Gloria screamed until she was so upset she vomited.  I never felt so guilty in my life.  It just feels wrong and unnatural to me, so I suppose I'm doomed to sleepless nights for a few more months.  Bring it on, I now drink coffee.

Yesterday I was showing Mike my long-term knitting goal - baby beard hats.

His response was, "Oh, you're going to be that kind of embarrassing mom.  So I don't ever have to worry about Gloria dating, huh?"