Crying it out

My poor little Baby Bug, she’s just not an easy-to-bed little girl. She’s happy enough to head upstairs, and thrilled to be able to sit on Fast Turtle’s bed for story time (and they are so adorable sitting there together, drinking their milk, asking me to “read” a story, which really means tell them a story). She’s usually the one who decides when the story about Kah-Sharkie and his sister Cah (Jah)-Sharkie is done, and lets me know that she’s ready to go to her room and rock with mommy. So we rock, we hug kitty and pillow and 2 blankets (shades of Turtle’s old animal family, long since retired to the animal basket–isn’t it funny how siblings can be so the same without even trying?), and mommy sings the same song that I sung for Turtle back when he still needed to be rocked. But then, once my voice has nearly given out and I’m dying to escape downstairs to finish the dishes or get some school work done or have a cup of tea, I try to put Bug to bed. And that’s where–more often than not–the waterworks begin. Ever since she was born, this little one has been able to shed some tears at a moment’s notice. So she stands there, sobbing, “Where are you, mommy? Where are you? Rock me, rock me!” I stand in the hallway just outside her door, trying to determine if the crying is growing in intensity or lessening, if she’s still standing or if she has laid back down as a prelude to soothing herself to sleep.

Whoever thinks that cry-it-out is hard with a little baby, I can assure you, it’s much harder with a sobbing two year old who demands, “Come BACK, mommy, come back and rock me some more!” and then, “Wipe me, wipe my eyes, mommy, wipe my eyes!”

How do you think the story ends? I think that I spent another 30 minutes rocking and singing “Oh, B’darlin’!” until Bug was finally ready to lay down with kitty and pillow and “more blankets! more blankets!” And yet, there’s too much that goes wrong in life to really wish that the evening had turned out any differently.


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