A few years ago I wrote about the moments that matter, one of those moments was rocking Teebs to sleep each night.
"I sing into the back of his neck. Rock-a-bye Teeber, in the treetop. And he becomes a lump of loving weight in my arms. When the wind blows the cradle will rock. And with each word my breath whispers against the hair on his neck which tickles the inside of my nose. When the bow breaks the cradle will fall. And in between every third word or so I break to give the fat on his neck kisses. And down will come Teeber cradle and all.
I sing it twice, because once is not enough, and because he lets me. And sometimes on the second time around I substitute "in mommy's arms" for "cradle and all" because I want him to feel safe. When I'm all done we sway in silence for a few moments and I hold him so, so tight. I tell him I love him and usually he's quiet for a moment until he responds with his deep "ha ha" chuckle. And I lay him down."
Those moments, when Teebs was still a bulky baby bundled in my arms, were some of the best. I've been waiting for those same moments with Scooter, giving a clean baby wrapped in warm pajamas one last squeeze and song before bedtime, but he's had other ideas.
Until a week ago Scooter's crib resided in the corner of our bedroom. I know, I know, I was setting myself up for failure. He would fall asleep around 9pm, and I would catnap until he woke up again at 10:30. Then catnap until 12...2...3:30...you get the picture. It was driving me crazy, and during those dark late hours I would say through gritted teeth I can't do this anymore. Then somehow in the morning his glittery little eyes would pop up over the railing of his crib and I'd decide I could stick it out a little longer. It was a phase, it would pass.
But it didn't pass. One day last week I was just a shade more exhausted than normal and I got a screwdriver and took the crib apart piece by piece. I drug it across the house to Scooter's room while he watched from his jumperoo with his mouth literally gaping. He knew.
Ooh he knew. And he wasn't happy. I put him in his crib in his room at nap time and he screamed. Screamed. For over an hour he screamed. And even though he's my third baby it doesn't make it any easier to listen to. I sat in the living room fidgeting, rocking to the rhythm of the wails until slowly...they...started to...fade. And silence. It was beautiful.
We repeated the process everyday and little by little he spends less time crying before giving into sleep. Finally, after months of I can't do this anymore teeth grits in the dark we are both sleeping through the night again. A few nights ago I was squeezing and rocking Scooter before laying him down and I breathed softly into his fat baby neck, rock-a-bye Scooter in the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, when the bow breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come Scooter in mommy's arms. He stared up at me with round eyes that tried to say "but I'm not tired..." and he let out a hearty "ha ha" chuckle. Ten minutes later the house was quiet. Sleep. And I looooove sleep.
Read more from Jessica at bubandteebs.com