Everything I needed to know, I most certainly didn't learn in Kindergarten.

I’m convinced that the predominant reason that people have a second child is to prove to themselves that they know how to deal with a baby. Even though Zack and I are dead set on only having Maeve, I find myself constantly in an internal dialogue about what I would do differently the next time.

1. I would have swaddled less… Maeve is seven months old and can’t sleep for more than an hour if she isn’t bound up in the Kiddopotamus SwaddleMe Wrap, aka, the baby straightjacket.


2. We would have stayed away from the swing as a sleep device… Maeve will only sleep in my arms, the car, or that damn swing. She’s so heavy now that we burn through eight D batteries a week.


3. I would have offered a pacifier much, much earlier… Maeve won’t take one at all but needs the breast or my finger off and on all night, making sleep a bit of a joke.


4. I think I would have introduced co-sleeping earlier… Maeve isn’t interested in sleeping in our bed. I would love to have that option as a last resort.


5. I would have gotten Zack more involved in the nighttime and naptime routine… Maeve falls apart if I’m not there.

That said, there are many things I would repeat with this imaginary second baby. In particular, I’m very proud of the fact that we don’t let Maeve cry it out. I know many will say that her sleep problems are attributed to the fact that I go to her every time she cries in the night. That may be true, in fact, I’m sure it is! But lets examine what’s at stake here. Why does Maeve cry? Because it’s her only method of communication and simply because she needs something. She’s too cold, too hot, uncomfortable, hungry, wet, frightened, or just plain lonely. And don’t tell me that she’s manipulating me. She can’t even make the connection between pain and whacking herself in the face with a block and you’re going to tell me she’s working some calculated scheme to get me out of bed at night? Come on, people. Anyway, by letting her cry it out I’m not teaching her how to make herself warmer or cooler or more comfortable. She won’t learn to straighten her blankets or change her diaper. No matter how long I let her sob alone she will never just get up and get herself a snack. And although, if left long enough, she would likely get too tired and too frustrated to continue feeling frightened or alone, what am I really teaching her by letting her cry it out? That I’m not coming. That’s it. I’m teaching her that although I know she’s crying in an attempt to ask for someone’s help, no one is coming. I don’t see that to be a valuable lesson.

The whole principle behind attachment parenting is that it fosters a very confident child. If she knows you’re always there we she needs you, she is more confident and therefore more comfortable venturing out alone when she is older. This makes true, intuitive sense to me. I will admit that at 9:45, 11:10, 12:40, 1:22, and 4:30 this morning my theory felt a bit shaky but I really feel like I’m doing the right thing.

On a lighter, messier note, Maeve has entered the fabulously colorful world of finger foods. Enjoy…