Parenthood is generally a shot in the dark—one unconfident decision after another, followed immediately by prayers for mercy. And there's no greater example of this than letting a one-year-old "cry it out."
After a year of generally peacefully nights (late night snacks and cutting teeth not withstanding), Avery decided to go on a string of nocturnal rampages for absolutely no reason. At least, that's what I hoped when I finally put my hand over Alaina on the second night, pulled her back into bed, and said, "She'll be fine." Which meant, if she wasn't fine, it would be my fault. Over the next hour of flying pacifiers and banshee wails, I followed up my motivational words to Alaina with such gems as, "If you get up now, you're only hurting her," and "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met. Use it now."
But despite my efforts, night one of "cry it out" was a failure. Alaina gave in to her motherly instincts and allowed me to get a few hours of much-needed sleep. The next night, we crept to bed and hoped for the best, but Avery was ready for round two. Again we battled it out for about an hour, and in a miraculous moment of grace, the sirens quieted…for about an hour. And the next time it was quicker. After three rude awakenings, all was still. And we slept.
And I made out like a hero. The one who stood up (metaphorically, of course), and made the bold decision to neglect our precious child for her own good. The fact that it was a complete shot in the dark and I was terrified the whole time didn't need to be discussed at the post-victory party.
A couple days later, my wife, clearly awestruck by my victory, made the decision to take away the training wheels and work on Avery's walking. This may seem a little strange for a 13-month-old, but our little super girl had much more important things to worry about than walking. Seriously, she had the balance and control. She just had no interest. She would stand until she got bored, then just sit down.
So when Alaina pulled her hands away one afternoon, we didn't expect much, but on that particular day, Avery decided it would be a good idea to walk to me instead of crawl. She only took a few steps, but apparently our squeals and cheers were enough to convince her to do it again. And again. Soon she was consistently taking eight steps back and forth, and every time we held our breath and waited for her to fall on her head and break twelve bones.
#FirstTimeParentProbs.
That's what you're thinking, right? It's cool. I get it. We're the overprotective, nervous control freaks who don't let anyone within three feet of our child at Wal-Mart. Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but yeah, this is our first rodeo. Everyone has their own opinions on EVERY aspect of parenting, and as I 've said before, I think I've heard them all. But there's a difference between education and experience, and there are times when we have to fumble through the dark (sometimes more literally than others) and hope for the best.
And let me tell you, the best really is the best. A baby's first steps. Gosh. If parenting victories feels like that every time, count me in.
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