Hudson and I have a very different relationship in comparison to what Carter and I shared; I now see that maybe my urge for him to grow up and experience things overcame the loving and bonding we could (or should) have shared. Maybe I could have held him more, even played together more? He’s a completely healthy, outgoing and super independent toddler that I don’t think I would do anything differently.

But once night would fall, I couldn’t think of anything else but getting some alone time before I went to bed. Once 9pm came I was done but all he wanted to do was cuddle and be held, all I wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch some mindless television.

By four months we had begun The CIO Method.

Yes, Ferberization, The Ferber Method… Cry It Out.

In less than 2 weeks, Carter was sleeping through the night and is still a great sleeper, minus some nights of bad dreams and needing to pee, of course.

Hudson is a completely different story which I could kind of sense from day one. He’s emotional, craves touch and very mellow. He’s very much a sensitive soul.

This has brought on Attachment Parenting - the holding, the wearing (only sometimes though since I don’t really enjoy it), the tenderness, the constant cuddles and the co-sleeping.

(We did and do use Attachment Parenting with Carter just not to the extreme I’ve noticed with Hudson.)

What could you hate about that you’re wondering?

Well, I don’t really hate; in fact, I kinda like the loving, cuddly happy baby part, but the co-sleeping? I could totally do without.

I am in no way knocking those who do, nor those who have a family bed. It’s just not my cup of tea is all: I like my space when I’m sleeping and having a baby in the bed freaks the shit out of me to be frank. We tried the bassinet beside the bed thing and it wasn’t working; it’s come to the point where I’ve put the guest bed in the nursery and moved in with Hudson where we sleep together.

(Sounds so wrong. Hi, I’m 12.)

But I don’t sleep well because I am afraid of rolling and smothering baby forgetting that he’s in the bed with me (which has nearly happened already!).

For the most part, it’s working alright I just miss being in my bed with my blanket stealing, kicking and snoring husband.

Weird. I know.

I’m ready for Hudson to be in his own bed and me in mine, but I need help getting there.

I know how to do the crying it out thing, that’s not the trouble. But what I don’t know what to do about is teaching the baby to cry it out with a toddler sleeping in the room adjacent to the nursery. Carter’s a decent sleeper, but I know if he heard his brother losing his shit next door, he’d be up in a shot.

Enlighten me with your assvice.

(Guess it’s not really assvice when I ask for it, is it?)

But! I don’t want to hear about how he’s too young to cry it out and how mean it is, because it’s not and it works and we’re happy with it and I’m hating co-sleeping: I’d rather my baby cry then be rolled on.

Now play nice.

I am not one who can function well on little sleep. No amount of caffeine can alleviate the wanton urge to close my eyes and drift off to a peaceful slumber. Not even the loudest most irritating alarm can get me out of bed on time. I am grouchy, impatient and often agitated easily when I’m tired. There really is no consoling me aside from just letting me go to sleep.

That? That doesn’t happen with children.

I was hesitant about having children for that very reason. I would have to forgo sleep for an unknown number of years.

Petty right? Don’t have children because they affect my ability to sleep in. Yup. Selfish.

Carter was a great sleeper as an infant. He’d wake to eat, then right back to sleep; he was the baby of my dreams. But as a toddler? He rises and falls with the sun. There isn’t enough coaxing in the world to get that child back in bed once he’s opened his eyes and seen even the faintest amount of light peaking from behind the blinds.

Doesn’t bode well with a person who loves to sleep.

Then throw an infant into the mix and I’m a walking zombie most days.

Every morning Hudson wakes at 6:30am; I quickly gather him from his bassinet (STILL IN OUR ROOM because Mike isn’t ready for him to move into his crib. *sigh*) and pull him into me as my lay in my bed, hoping not to stir Carter just yet, I quickly shove a boob in his mouth to smother his coos and squawks for food.

But my efforts are usually futile since Carter has hawk like senses and is up and jumping from the bed before Hudson even gets a latch. Seriously, that kid could hear a penny drop about 6 blocks away.

The door opens with a creak from the years of paint on the jam: then silence. Waiting for another sound, he stands in his doorway. As soon as he hears something, anything he comes running to my room, It’s wake up time Mommy! he states. Every. Single. Morning. Then he questions, Where’s Daddy? I don’t know if he expects that the answer will differ each day; but without fail, he asks.

I fade in and out of consciousness as I try and play defense. Keeping Carter from poking and tickling (which is more like shoving his needle-like fingertips into your gut) Hudson while he eats is like trying to separate a PMSing woman from chocolate. I try to coax him from the room with Hot Wheels waiting for him in the living room, or sending him to go pee - just to buy myself a couple extra minutes; but he is relentless.

I’m up. I’m up!

Once Hudson’s finished we all make our way downstairs. Hudson gets placed in his swing, the television is tuned into Dora, orange juice and Nutrigrain bar are distributed while the coffee brews. I plunk myself down in the overstuffed arm chair waiting for that sweet beep telling me my lifeline is prepared for injection. Sweet delicious coffee.

As I sip my coffee and peruse The Blogs while we relax, I peek over the top of my laptop to see Carter sitting peacefully on the couch, fingers threaded behind his head, lounging back on the sofa: the baby seeing his fingers for the first time, mezmorized in his swing.

They ain’t half bad these early mornings.

:::

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