Despite Nelson’s health issues, little Will’s constant crying is what dominates their home. Because Nelson is throwing himself into helping in every way he knows to do, in the process he’s getting used to letting Will “cry it out.” Though it’s unpleasant, it usually works. So, to write this journal entry, Nelson has gone back to his happy place: Starbucks…or, as he sometimes called it, The Buckery.
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April 20, 2022
Letting a baby “cry it out,” which happens pretty much daily at our house, is torture for everyone. I try everything, feeding, clean diaper, lights on, lights off, cuddling, laying on the floor, in the Moses basket he really likes that Holly sent us, and of course, feeding. He drank 2 oz, which is probably enough, had a poopy diaper, and now he’s “fine” but you would think someone is stabbing him with knives.
I did it all while holding him, so now my logic is: let’s at least get something done and teach him something through this ordeal, and it’s this: He won’t die if he cries for 20 minutes then falls asleep. He can do it without help and without Annso or I intervening again and again. He probably won’t even be slightly hurt by it. He doesn’t seem to mind screaming at all. Endless energy to do it.
Annso doesn’t like it, and I can see why. She’s so much nicer than I am when it comes to that stuff, but I’m totally against mushy parenting and see the results it gets when I look around the campus. The last thing I want is a baby who is high-need, never satisfied, unable to soothe himself, and living in a constant state of discontent. “This is the inevitable result of blocking all crying all the time.”
It’s an exhausting way to start the day, all frazzled-out, feeling like you’re torturing your child, yourself, and everyone else within ear shot. The one thing I’ll say though is that it works pretty well in the end. As long as I’ve tried EVERYTHING, I can do it with a clear conscience. He just needs to cry it out. And when I know that, it’s a done deal.
Here as I type this, we went from full boar billy goat crying, and now we’re quiet. I don’t know if we’re sleeping, but we’re quiet. It took about 15 minutes. He can go quite a bit longer than that, but 15 minutes usually does it when all else fails. If I would have kept trying things, I’d be walking and pacing this place with a mildly fussy to crying baby for the next hour and a half, and who does that help? Do we do that just because we’re afraid of a little crying?
Some of the worst mistakes I have made in my life came because I was afraid of a little crying. I have been in the wrong career because of it, kept the wrong people on staff here at Hale Ola, stayed in places too long, left places too early, you name it; all because I was afraid of a little crying. We don’t like confrontation and the loudest one gets the attention.
4pm. My first time back at a Starbucks in years after they were closed forever. They don’t have brewed coffee so I got a Mocha. Mark and Brenda gave us a $100 gift card so I don’t feel bad about the $6.75 price tag attached to it. Holy Cow! They always want to give you an “Americana,” but those aren’t the same as coffee at all. You can taste that the water has gone through coffee beans.
A friend of Annso’s is at our place hanging with Will, and I didn’t know it until I walked through the door earlier. I like it best when it’s only us. Is that weird? I’m becoming more introverted as time passes, even though I would rather become more of a community-minded person, but it takes lots of work. I’m still the over-sensitive alcoholic I always have been. Annso is a saint for being with me. I have nothing to complain about. I have blessings beyond anything I could dream of.
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“There is a time to cry and a time to laugh.” (Ecclesiastes 3:4)