our gamble with parenting




gambling girl

Originally uploaded by schleifnet

So, it is somewhere between 2 and 3 am. Mike and Annabel are down for the night and I am looking for some entertainment as I pump milk. So, I blog. Annabel is 10 weeks old – and perfect I might add. Mike and I are discovering what kind of parents we are (the good kind in case you were wondering). But, if you want to know what that means – read on and I’m sure I’ll tell you something. Something someone has disliked most likely.
Parenthood is suppose to change you. No more having fun on the town with friends. No more drinking or card nights. We decided to ignore this dictum and just force our friends to abide evenings with Annabel.
Just kidding, kind of.
Our friends now come to us with cards in hand and the fun continues. Annabel even joins in. However, before you start thinking – wow, they have their own lucky charm – you should know that whomever was holding her tended to lose the round.
We decided to work Annabel into our lives instead of succumbing to her baby charms. This doesn’t mean we aren’t at her beck and call – quite the opposite – she has spent the first 10 weeks of her life in someones arms. When her pediatrician asks if she is generally a happy baby who doesn’t cry too much we can truthfully answer yes. But, she doesn’t cry much because we are always right there waiting for a gesture or glance from her to tell us what she needs.
So, you might be wondering how and when we are going to let her self-soothe or just cry it out… Ain’t gonna happen. We don’t let our cats meow for long when they are lonely or need loving. Mike doesn’t make me sit in some other room if I’m having a bad day. So why on earth would we force that on a helpless infant.
Don’t fret that we don’t know what we are doing and are gambling with Annabel’s future happiness – naysayers have already cast their negative votes LOUDLY. She is happy and trusts we’ll meet her needs. I am happy. These two things make Mike happy.
So, now that I’ve spilt the milk or beans on this philosophy of ours, you won’t be shocked if the words – family bed or cloth diapers – should come up. Hey, our cats get to sleep with us, mind you they are luckily all potty trained . But I’ll save those dreadful details for another post.

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