Griffin cannot talk yet, but I imagine what he’d like to say to me today is, “Mom, you’re the idiot who woke me up not once, but twice today from my car seat naps, so why would you expect that even though I’m tired and cranky and seem like I want a nap, I would actually take one? It’s clearly not my fault, so don’t get all angsty on me because you screwed up. Geez. Amateur.”
But since the most effective way of communicating that kind of frustration so far in his short little life is screaming, that’s what he’s doing. In his crib. Alone.
I am hiding in my bedroom writing this post. I know that “crying it out” won’t really hurt him, but it’s a very difficult thing to endure, especially knowing what a sweet, loving, and flexible kid he really is. Sometimes, though, in order for me to be the best mom I can be, I need the time out. As I breathe and collect myself, I see the red lights on the monitor lighting up (the volume is turned down for my sanity) showing that his frustration is not dissipating. However, just this little bit of separation is what I needed to make my frustration dissolve and develop into sympathy and caring, and I’m ready to go back in and soothe my little boy to sleep.
