First Stab at Babyproofing
Last weekend Henry promised that we would babyproof the apartment but that never happened. So yesterday Mom and I spent some time in Lucy’s room. We traded the dresser in her closet with the one she was exploring last week.
That small dresser was from when I was a little girl. It is pretty lightweight with sticky drawers. One good tug and the artwork I have propped on top was about to come crashing down. Fortunately I was there to catch it. Plus my little glass knobs easily come off in your hand.
This ebony dresser from West Elm doesn’t have any handles. Hence, nothing to swallow. We inherited it in the purchase of our home a few years ago. It has returned to its original spot and I must say that I like it there.
Plus now we have room for more items in the closet. Isn’t that what closets are for?
We have been spending more time in Lucy’s room per the suggestion of No Cry Sleep Solutions. After swearing off baby books, I downloaded this ebook to read on my iPhone. First of all, I love using the free Kindle app. Especially the dark background with light letters. And second this book seems like it will work for me.
Unlike the author, I think it is okay for Lucy to cry. But I came to the conclusion that you have to be consistent for the Cry It Out Method to work. Every Monday, I spend the day trying to recover from the weekend. The No Cry book requires you to be patient. I have plenty of patience. Remember the whole breastpumping debacle? I survived that. So we can survive this. Plus I already intuitively had a lot of her suggestions in place.
As for the consistency issue, it reminds me of one of my mom’s favorite stories. When I was in early elementary school, first or second grade, I was having a tough time waking up from a nap. (Seriously, Henry and I were both champion sleepers. I don’t get it.) The teacher, maybe my aunt Karen, said something about me being slow. I replied, “If you think I’m slow, you should see my daddy.”
If you think I’m inconsistent, you should see her daddy. I have had to yell at him to get out of the bed on a Saturday before naptime rolls around. We haven’t even gotten up yet! Maybe it’s from the years of sleeping in as a little boy. Neighbors would knock on the door to play and Martina would say, “He’s sleeping.”