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ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

It's over. I mean it.

This morning I feel like you do when you break up with someone and aren't sure if you should put all his pictures away.

You see, I finally ended our relationship with the Amby bed.

If it wasn’t for the book "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child" and the thoughtful advice of some mothers from the Cry it Out clan (“Just do it! Don’t be an idiot/sucker/looser!”), we might never have made it to this point. We might actually have had to implement some of the suggestions made by my mother, Linda, who looked like she had been stabbed with poisonous daggers when I told her we were prepared to let Junior cry for a few hours if that’s what it took.

To avoid any type of trauma to Junior in his move from the Amby bed to the crib, Linda begged that we consider:

1. Going to Home Depot so we could build a bigger version of the Amby bed. (I could just see the expression on the clerk’s face when we showed him our blueprints for Amby Bed II.)

2. Buying a hammock and hanging it from some bookcases. (On days he cried exceptionally hard, I actually looked into this.)

3. Using an air mattress in the crib instead of the regular mattress. “This way he can still bounce—you know how he loves to bounce!” (On days he cried exceptionally hard, I actually looked into this.)

4. Buying a miniature water bed, to simulate the soft rocking motion of the Amby bed. (On days he cried exceptionally hard, I actually looked into this.)

5. Letting him sleep in the Amby bed until his limbs hung over the sides and he was so uncomfortable he simply had to get out of it.

Thankfully all it took was a week of putting Junior down for naps and to bed 30 minutes earlier and letting him cry a bit.

But yah, I still feel a bit like a pining, freakish dumper. I had just perfected my back-bending maneuver to get Junior’s plump 23-pound body into the swinging bed. Ditto for my mother and Charles. And to see Junior bounce on that extra sturdy spring! You could just feel the joy and exhilaration on his fat little face.

Sigh.

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