weird things letting baby cry

weird things

letting baby cry
that’s some biblical-sized guilt
even with big hugs

Before I address the haiku above I want to say that I was cutting my fingernails this morning (a prophylactic measure to keep me from gnawing them off) and a shard of fingernail flew from the clipper straight into my nose. Thankfully my nails are pretty much already chewed to pieces so it was a small shard, but still. It hurt. And it was hard to get out. And I must have looked like a moron as I squinched my eyes closed in pain, pinched one nostril shut and blew frantically out the other. I freed the shard, though. And my nose is fine.

It’s a haiku worthy story, so feel free, budding haiku-ists… make one up for me.

On to the haiku above…

I had a dream last night (don’t roll your eyes, don’t “ugh,” I’ll make this short – I know reading about other people’s dreams isn’t nearly as fulfilling as the dreamer wants it to be).

I dreamt that my son got a letter. It said something to the affect of:

Dear Wee One,
We know that your mommy has resorted to letting you thrash and cry at night when you want to nurse. She’s telling you that you’re a big boy now and don’t need milk at night. Son, your mommy is right. You can buck up and make it through this tough spot. You’re mommy is letting you cry for a good reason. It will build your character.

Here’s the kicker: the letter was signed by George Dubya Bush and that chick who is grinning and giving the thumbs up in all those horrifying prison pictures from Iraq.

Now, I know that not letting my son nurse at night isn’t going to cause him any major emotional damage. Especially with me cuddling him, offering him a drink of water and explaining why it’s time to stop nursing at night. But, seriously. I don’t think my subconscious understands at all. Apparently it believes I’m torturing my kid. It kind of feels like that when he’s screaming for milk. And maybe I should let him keep nursing. But I just feel like after two years of nursing at least three times a night I’m ready to not be doing that anymore. I’m ready for a full night’s sleep. And I’m going to try not to let dreams about Dubya and Psycho Lady bully me into feeling guilty.

I can do that all by myself. Sheesh.

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