Week One Day 5: Cry baby

Tonight's the night. Right this very minute my wife is putting Gavin to bed without a swaddler and without rocking him to sleep. And by rocking him to sleep I mean holding him vertically so he falls asleep with his head on my shoulder or on Stacy's chest (she's taller than me so can hold him lower. I am not explaining this well. Hey, I'm not a physicist). I'm not going to lie, I am feeling really nervous about this. Very anxious. I mean, I know it's for the best or whatever all of the sleep books we've read say. But I can't help but ask myself, "How did it come to this?" Over and over again the books (we read a LOT of books) told us not to establish a routine that will become unworkable once your baby is the size of a large Thanksgiving turkey. The Baby Whisperer's advice, "Start as you mean to go on" might as well be carved inside my brain. And yet every night for months we've rocked him to sleep to the same Carla Bruni CD. I'd say "Carla Bruni song" but it always takes more than one song. And sometimes it takes the entire CD. It's a good workout, but unless we create some kind of pulley system in his room to suspend him, it just can't go on.

My wife and I are not not bodybuilders. We are not huge people. Gavin will probably be taller and bigger than us by elementary school. I've heard my dad saying to Gavin, "One day you'll be big and strong and then you'll show them," them meaning us, me and Stacy. I'm not sure what this means. Is my father predicting that once Gavin is able to he will kick our asses? I can't help but recall the story my dad told me years ago about the mentally ill son who shot his parents in their eyes because they always said, "We're watching you." Did I mention that my dad is a criminologist and that he buys me murder books for Christmas?

In any case, waiting for Gavin to go to bed I'm sweating like a whore in church (an expression I learned from my father). Last night I was thinking this would be easy. After all, part of what stresses me out so much when he cries at night is that I often don't know what's wrong and I have to fix it. In this case I will know what's wrong, but have to let him fix it himself. This is going to be painful for all of us. I probably won't cry, but I guarantee that Stacy will.

By the way, today marks the end of Stay At Home Mama D Week One. Gavin is still alive (see above photo from today). I'm still alive. So far I'm ruling it a success.