Damnit Scott! How am I supposed to put my contacts in while I'm crying? I'm trying to get ready for work.
You really should collect these nuggets of wisdom into a book or something once your kids are older. Every time I start to get frustrated or doubt myself as a parent you drop a newsletter that reminds me that I am not alone and that I need to cherish these times. Thank you.
I really don't know what I am suppose to feel with this, it's like Scott decided to be Oprah and "everyone gets feels." I started with oh, boy here is what I have to look forward too, yes I can definitely commiserate with the Go The F to sleep (wonderful book), and man the gut shot with "this too will all pass" and I know I will want it all back. I already had to give up the nap time rock, thanks daycare, but I am fighting tooth and nail to hold onto the bedtime rocking.
I look at when our parents come and its magical for them again to read the books, do the bath, and rock her to sleep and not care the time it takes. While Mom and I are like we have to get this done by this time if we are to have some time tonight.
I know this, but my daughter has developed a routine over the past year that gets longer and longer. After a bath, sorry, and hugs, she then needs “airplane,” a carefully placed Minnie, and the right code words to fall asleep. If I don’t say “close your eyes” last before walking away then it was all for naught.
First off, I didn't see the knife twist coming, you bastard.
It's crazy how quickly (but also very slowly) things go away, never to return. For the first few months of my daughter, my Friday nights were cutting out of work a half hour early, cuddling up and letting her sleep on me with Guy Fieri's dulcet tones in the background. Now I'm lucky to get one cuddled nap a month. Soon, I know it'll be one a year. And then she'll never nap, and I'll be old and sad (Guy will never age, and will still be rollin' out)
Dead solid perfect, sir. Once in a while, I foresee the day when my Grover voice can be brought out of retirement for "The Monster at the End of This Book." (Mrs DG doesn't find it nearly as amusing as the DCs used to.)
The thing I love about parenting so far (and I am not very far in yet) is that there are baby steps that transition you through the changes. Currently, when we put our almost 2 year old to bed, she lays there quietly, sometimes for as much as an hour, and she will occasionally be heard singing songs or talking to herself or her stuffed animals, or kicking her headboard before finally falling asleep.
But she is still in a crib. She can't quite open doors yet. Both of those things are going to change soon and the game will change with it, but I've been sitting there, within earshot, for months learning what her strategy will be. I'll be prepared for this song and dance. And then I'll find out that I'm not prepared at all. And then we'll be on to the next change.
Damnit Scott! How am I supposed to put my contacts in while I'm crying? I'm trying to get ready for work.
You really should collect these nuggets of wisdom into a book or something once your kids are older. Every time I start to get frustrated or doubt myself as a parent you drop a newsletter that reminds me that I am not alone and that I need to cherish these times. Thank you.
I really don't know what I am suppose to feel with this, it's like Scott decided to be Oprah and "everyone gets feels." I started with oh, boy here is what I have to look forward too, yes I can definitely commiserate with the Go The F to sleep (wonderful book), and man the gut shot with "this too will all pass" and I know I will want it all back. I already had to give up the nap time rock, thanks daycare, but I am fighting tooth and nail to hold onto the bedtime rocking.
I look at when our parents come and its magical for them again to read the books, do the bath, and rock her to sleep and not care the time it takes. While Mom and I are like we have to get this done by this time if we are to have some time tonight.
Talk about perspective.
I know this, but my daughter has developed a routine over the past year that gets longer and longer. After a bath, sorry, and hugs, she then needs “airplane,” a carefully placed Minnie, and the right code words to fall asleep. If I don’t say “close your eyes” last before walking away then it was all for naught.
Thanks, Scott— I really needed to tear up right at the start of the workday. Much appreciated.
whew. should’ve seen that ending coming.
First off, I didn't see the knife twist coming, you bastard.
It's crazy how quickly (but also very slowly) things go away, never to return. For the first few months of my daughter, my Friday nights were cutting out of work a half hour early, cuddling up and letting her sleep on me with Guy Fieri's dulcet tones in the background. Now I'm lucky to get one cuddled nap a month. Soon, I know it'll be one a year. And then she'll never nap, and I'll be old and sad (Guy will never age, and will still be rollin' out)
Dead solid perfect, sir. Once in a while, I foresee the day when my Grover voice can be brought out of retirement for "The Monster at the End of This Book." (Mrs DG doesn't find it nearly as amusing as the DCs used to.)
The thing I love about parenting so far (and I am not very far in yet) is that there are baby steps that transition you through the changes. Currently, when we put our almost 2 year old to bed, she lays there quietly, sometimes for as much as an hour, and she will occasionally be heard singing songs or talking to herself or her stuffed animals, or kicking her headboard before finally falling asleep.
But she is still in a crib. She can't quite open doors yet. Both of those things are going to change soon and the game will change with it, but I've been sitting there, within earshot, for months learning what her strategy will be. I'll be prepared for this song and dance. And then I'll find out that I'm not prepared at all. And then we'll be on to the next change.