When they say "cry it out" do they mean me? 

As I write this Finley is screaming in his crib as I am "teaching" him to go to sleep without the comfort of my bosom.  So if my post reads disjointed, scrambled, or generally insane, it is because your own baby's cries have a link to your brain that makes you crazy. 

This week was a roller coaster of good and bad.  I am going to focus on the good, because while you might relate to my misery, who wants to read about that!!!  No Debbie Downer here.

Picture this:

Three kids packed like sardines in the back of a compact SUV each with pink  fingers, sticky, shiny, pink  faces, each with their sleeping heads bobbing up and down rolling in different directions.  Necks crooked, sweet faces.   

               Peace.
                                                             Quiet. 

The smell of cotton candy takes over your senses.  Lucy is even dressed like cotton candy in her pink  princess costume dress.  The mental Polaroid of them riding giraffes on the carousel is dancing my my head. 

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE

 

 

I successfully entertained them into exhaustion.  I love our children's museum.  We are so lucky to have such a wonderful one here in Indy.  And the Barbie exhibit...don't get me started. . .

That is my good mommy moment for the week.  We are going to try to forget that the other moments even happened.  (Like Lucy taking off her seat belt and pulling my hair all the way to school while screaming like a maniac then refusing to get out of the car for school, peeing in her car seat...again, oh and it took us 3 hours of arguing and 7 wardrobe changes to get Lucy to the car to go to the museum in the first place...) But we will focus on the rose and not the thorn...cue Bret Michaels. 

By the way, I got Finley up three paragraphs ago and he is now nursing on my lap.  One hour of crying and my head is spinning.  WHO DOES THIS   "CRY IT OUT"  THING SUCCESSFULLY?  Don't tell me if it's you. 

~Evan James Lange~

LOVE, B