It’s been a rough landing to an otherwise smooth weekend.
It took me over an hour to get Emory down for a nap. Forty-five minutes into what was supposed to be his nap, he lost his mind. What is it with babies? They’re fine one minute, happy and playing. Nap time comes along, and then that time passes because God forbid they succumb to the hideous suggestion of sleep, and then they completely lose their mind.
I rocked him. I ran the vacuum cleaner (he finds it soothing, when he was younger, I used to vacuum with him strapped to my chest). I laid down next to him on the bed. I rubbed his back, face, scratched his head. I tickled his earlobes. I even turned on some classical music (we normally don’t use music to put him to sleep) in hopes of relaxing him. Five notes in, he looked at me, puckered up like it was the saddest, most depressing thing anyone had ever done. And then he just started sobbing. I calmed him down again but he still refused to go to sleep. Things were growing progressively worse by the minute.
What to do?
It was time to let him cry a little bit, sob even, because nothing was working and I was growing more and more anxious and he more insane.
The next five minutes turned out to be the longest five minutes of my life. After he threw an all out fit, which was broadcast over our baby monitor as well as probably a dozen Northside livery cab radios, I returned to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. I picked him up to calm him down and then put him down. I had all but written his morning nap off, the nap I call “A Hard Restart”. If he wanted to suffer a kernel panic or spiral out of control and into baby madness, I’d give him my blessing.
And then something spectacular happened. He fell asleep almost immediately.
It has been roughly 30 minutes since touchdown. In that time I have eaten, done a load of laundry, washed the dishes, fed the cats, put last night’s laundry away, and started this post, which will probably rank up there with one of the lamest, most pathetic posts ever to make its way onto this Web site.
I feel so heartless letting him cry! But if he were a daycare baby, certainly this would have happened by now, right? Are there tricks I’m unaware of? Booze in the baby bottle?