Sandman (with dustbuster)

In a previous post, I wrote about how Violet was approaching the age when she could begin to understand cause-and-effect relationships in the world around her. She is now at that age, and already I can see her testing things out. Not in the ways I want her to, of course; she doesn’t appear to understand that if she kicks the upright support on her rainforest play mat that a song will play, but tonight, when we put her to bed, we did so while she was still awake. (She is, at this stage, supposed to be learning to “soothe herself.”) Instead, she started yelling as soon as I placed her into the bassinet. Not crying, mind you, but a yelling, bullshit sort of crying – the kind that says, “I don’t want to go to sleep, and if you were any sort of parent who loved me, you would come and pick me up right now and make me feel better.” I’ve read and been told by other parents to “just let her cry,” and I did. Three minutes went by. Four minutes. Five minutes, and I wrestled with going in, not wanting to set the idea in her head that “They put me in bed. I cry. They come get me out.” Still, the yelling continued. I crouched down (not wanting Violet to see me) and went into the bedroom, intent on starting the bassinet rocking, and wondered to myself if Violet was capable of smelling my presence, or if she could equate the shadow moving on the wall to my entering the room. Maybe I gave her too much credit, but the yelling continued. In the end, I brought in Linda’s iPod and slid it into the bassinet, letting the recorded sound of our dustbuster lull Violet to sleep. I felt a little defeated, like I gave up Poland a little too easily, but I didn’t have to pick her up once I put her down for the night. So that’s something.

101 days old