A little bit more of what kind of mom I am. . .I don’t do the family bed thing, but I don’t do the cry yourself into exhaustion all by your lonesome in your crib thing either. With all 3 I have rocked them to sleep until they are in regular beds, which for my first was 2 years, 2nd was 20 months, and Greta is on her way to a full size bed this weekend. She’s 19 months by the way.
So I’ve been kind of relishing the whole rocking to sleep thing with her lately. Just knowing these are the last few nights I will probably do this makes it so final. My last baby, that’s it, nada, no more, zilch, get the point? This evening I volunteered to take the girl, one parent takes the boys, one the girl and do the whole brush teeth, story, goodnight ordeal. Usually for about the first 5 minutes she is a spazz, flailing uncomfortably, talking, singing, and so on it goes. Tonight she did her usual toss and turn, nudge, talk nonsense. Then she began to repeatedly say, “hamburber”. I ignored it for about a dozen times then I realized I need to acknowledge or she will not stop.
Me: Greta. It’s nigh-nigh time. Stop saying hamburger.
Greta: Hamburber. . .Hamburber.
Me: Yes, hamburger. Now lay your head down and go to sleep.
Fifteen seconds pass. . .
Me: Greta, you don’t even like hamburgers, stop talking about them.
Again, about 15 seconds pass. . .
Greta: Doe a deer.
Me: Ok. I will sing you Doe a Deer one time. And that’s it.
My daughter thinks I have a voice like Celine Dion, and I’m not going to correct her, she’ll soon find out how wrong she is. So I go through the entire Doe a Deer song from the Sound of Music but can never get to Ti because she is anticipating the end of the song and saying again again again. I sang it about 5 times and that satisfied her.
If you’ve ever rocked a baby to sleep you recognize the heavy weight of their head lying on your shoulder, their nose nuzzling in your neck to find the sweet spot, their limbs get heavy and their movements less and less. Their breathing slows and they kind of melt into you. This is when I like to close my eyes and just rock. I’m not rocking because I like it! Of course not! I’m rocking because you have to get them into that rem cycle of sleep where you can do a successful transfer into their crib.
We hit that dead weight spot where I know she’s gone. Totally gone. I slowly rise and creep over to her crib, knowing exactly which planks of wood to avoid on the floor for fear of the creaks awakening her.
I do the swift “lift and lower” onto her blankie. She stirs, nuzzles into her blankie as I pat her back for a few seconds. I slowly glide ever so quietly to the door where I turn the knob at just the right degree to prevent the hinge from making a sound. I am about to make it, I can see the light of the TV downstairs, I reach to close the door and I hear a rustle. OH NO! I peek back in the room and don’t see anything, she probably just rolled over. As I am about to close the door I hear in a clear and distinctly devilish voice,