This time, though, it's much worse than going without socks. This time, it's over something that could affect my child 'for a lifetime.' I don't know if I can even type the words, but here goes. . .
I rock my baby to sleep.
I know, I know. I'm setting him up to be an insomniac for the rest of his life, unable to fall asleep unless I'm holding him in my lap.* I mean, no mother in the history of the world has ever rocked her child to sleep. And the few stupid ones (like me) who did had children who turned into serial killers and prostitutes because of their insomnia issues caused by too much rocking.**
I may be exaggerating slightly, but I was called out yesterday on one of the Mommy Forums for rocking my baby to sleep. I was told that if I didn't let him cry it out, he'd "never learn to fall asleep on his own!" Never mind the fact that letting my child cry for even a few minutes only pisses him off beyond belief. In our house, there's no such thing as "crying it out."*** Too bad, say these Judgy Gertrudes of the Interwebz. Let him puke. It will teach him to self-soothe.
My child falls asleep every night, content in the knowledge that Mommy (or Daddy) is right there, keeping him safe and warm. And I get a precious few moments to cuddle my little boy, who is growing too fast as it is. Gone already are the days when he would cuddle in my lap for hours on end. Now, he is far too busy crawling around, pulling toys all over the living room, pulling up on the couch, chasing the dog, and trying desperately to figure out how to walk. The only time he will sit still long enough to cuddle is if he's sick. Or very sleepy.
So, I rock him to sleep, drinking in the sweet, relaxed moments with my boy before they disappear forever. Breathing in the scent of his hair, feeling the warmth of his little body curled against mine, listening to his steady, even breathing, and watching his eyelashes flutter until they close for the night. I know these moments will be gone too soon, leaving me only with the memories of the scent of his hair, the warmth of his little body, and the flutter of his tiny eyelashes. Maybe I am selfish to keep rocking him, but I am not going to stop any time soon.
And if that makes me a Bad Mommy, I am entirely okay with that.
*Which will get awkward when he's taller than me. . . or perhaps before then? :)
** I mean, what else can you do if you're up all night? I guess your options are limited to murder or selling your body for money. Or working at Denny's. :)
***There is however "screaming your fool head off until you barf," which is what usually happens in these situations.