I am not a trendy sort of person. I do not follow the latest fads. I decorate my house with whatever looks nice to me at the time (or whatever my mother-in-law pawns off on me before she gallops on off to Africa). I cook and eat pretty much the same style of food all the time. I have never gone to eat at a "hip" place and the thought of fusion food frightens me to the core. I do not have clothes that I wear before or after Labor Day. My hair has looked pretty much the same forever. My clothes are almost entirely black. I wear capri pants, not because they are "in", but because I have worn them since I was 5 because I am a freak and have a problem with things touching my ankles and any clothes I have must come well below or well above that point. I do not wear shorts, as I'm sure you were thinking I should to avoid the dreaded ankle-contact, because I have the ugliest knees and thighs to ever be seen on a human in the whole history of mankind. As far as the parenting goes, I'm pretty old school. I don't care what Spock has to say on kids (I never trust a man with pointy ears) and I will not read books on raising my children. I will subject them to the same fumbling-around-in-the-dark-in-the-back-seat-of-the-car figuring it out style of child-rearing that I was subjected to, and so were you.
In my resistance to vie nouveau, I have come across something I thought sounded like maybe it had some merit. So, we are trying this brand spankin' new thing we heard about. The idea is that you lay your kid down when they are tired, walk away and let them work out the going to sleep details on their own.
This is a brand new concept to me. I have always subscribed to the cuddle/bounce/sing-to/recite-dirty-limericks-to/nurse-'til-it-hurts school of putting kids to bed. But I have to say, this is kind of nice. We have a little routine going. We have ni-night cuddles all the way up to the room, then say ni-night to all the babies, then lay down and turn on the baby giraffe's lullaby, then cover up with the blankie, then say ni-night to each other at which point I walk away and shut the door.
Now, sometimes this works beautifully. Like naptime today. She just went to sleep. Sometimes, however, this does not work so well. Sometimes it sounds like I have ripped out all of her toenails. Sometimes she comes very close to actually saying, "Get your ass back in here and pick me up, bitch." And I know this because I have more baby monitors than you could shake a stick at. There is one in every available outlet. It's screaming, in stereo. But the funny thing is that the hellish cries of the banshee only last for 5 minutes or so and then she gives up. Big, fat faker. I haven't come around to letting her scream in the middle of the night, however, as you can read all about two posts down. It just seems cruel to the neighbors. And trust me, they'll hear it. She is so f'ing loud.
I still have a hard time imagining that washing those dishes is a more important thing to be doing than rocking my precious little cherub while she claws away at my flesh with her razor-sharp nails, while screaming at me in decibels previously believed inaudible, but I'm giving it a whirl. And my floor is getting swept fairly regularly. So I have that going for me. Which is nice.