Last night was a tough night.
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve bathed Cara and after a bit of playtime, have told her that it’s bedtime and to find Ugly Dog and to head on into her room.
She fusses and bitches, but follows me into her room, nonetheless. I nurse her and lay her on her velour crib sheet. I kiss her forehead and wish her a good night.
Since she was about six months old, I’ve employed the “Ferber Method” – something that I thought that I would never do.
I bought Dr. Ferber’s book and followed that thing to the letter. And, it’s worked for us. In fact, I’d almost go so far as to say that it changed my [and her] life.
But, I’ve written about all of that before, so why go into that again.
Anyway, back to last night.
Tucker had to work and that always puts Cara in a really foul mood. To distract her, we went to the tennis courts to burn off some steam.
She played and obsessed with the stairs for a good hour. Then, it was dinner while we watched the rest of Clifford and then bath time.
Cara should have been so tired that she didn’t make a peep. When I finally put her to bed, she bitched for about five minutes and then was out.
…for all of twenty minutes.
And then she started shrieking.
She wasn’t hot. She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t hungry. She was just royally pissed off at me, the fact that she was in her crib and the world in general.
When I checked on her the first time, she reached out to me and it utterly broke my heart. I wiped the snot from her hair and cuddled my precious baby.
But, it was past her bedtime and she was beyond tired.
I laid her back onto her mattress and she wailed a heart wrenching wail. All I wanted to do was grab her out of that crib and make it all better.
The only remedy though was sleep so I kissed her forehead, patted her back and shut the door.
Cara finally greeted the Sand Man an hour past her bedtime. She had fought the good fight, but sleep finally won out.
I never, in a million years, would have guessed that putting your child to bed could be so painful.