Wednesday, January 7, 2015

The Trouble with Spoiled Babies

I'm about to be in big trouble, y'all.

Today is Harper's 316th day on this planet, and I am still rocking her to sleep every day and night. Every. Single. Time.

It can't be anyone else either. It has to be me. It has to be mama. Because she needs me. Because no one else can possibly know how to do it right.

Soon after Harper was born, a friend told me that in France babies sleep so much better, and are overall better babies and perfect little darlings because their parents start making them cry it out in the night at 4 months old.

What?! French people sound evil. 4 months old just seemed entirely too soon to me. I never started to make my babies tough it out until they were at least 7 months old. And apparently this time around I let that 7 month mark fly by. I'll stick it to those French folks. Show them how compassionate this little Virginian is.

But seriously. I keep rocking her, because she could be our last baby. She could be the last one who needs me like this.

The trouble with spoiled babies is that they don't know that they are being spoiled. I rock her to sleep every night thinking to myself "ugh, this little stinker." But the real stinker is me. I'm putting off her independence. Her ability to self soothe. Her knowledge that she does not, in fact, need me to put her to sleep. As much as I wish she did.

This weekend I'm going to really start Ferberizing my sweet little angel. And it kills me. But I know it's the best for both of us.

In the long run, we will both get more sleep, because she'll know how to put herself back to sleep without me. And I will have a little more freedom. Ken and I have not been on a SINGLE DATE since before she was born. We're still husband and wife, but it would be really nice to reconnect over a nice meal in which food is not flying everywhere and one of us is begging the children to just eat nicely.

Pray for us.

The trouble with spoiled babies, is the longer you spoil them, the harder it is to stop.


Cleaning and scrubbing will wait ’till tomorrow, but children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow. So quiet down cobwebs! Dust go to sleep! I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep. – Ruth Hamilton



1 comment:

  1. I'm right there with you, friend. Opal won't take a bottle or go to sleep for anyone other than me. Sigh.

    ReplyDelete