2003-08-12 - 11:31 a.m.
Tomorrow? Hah. Try several days later.
Brief synopsis: the relationships of my sisters-in-law took big steps forward. I have two, R and S. R got engaged to someone she grew up with; oddly enough, the son of the priest who married J and me and baptized the Professor. He's a research pharmacologist out in Denver. He came back to Alton to bury his father, and the romance with R just caught fire from there. He proposed in the garden at the church where his father was pastor. They're looking at next September for the wedding.
S moved in with her boyfriend, about ten minutes away from our house. That's a big step for her; she's very independent, and likes keeping a certain amount of private space. The guy she's got is a really good one though. There may be another engagement in the future. In the meantime, it means we can hang out a lot more, which is always a good thing. (I need to learn more vegetarian cooking anyway.)
The Professor has hit nine months, which means a certain amount of separation anxiety. She doesn't want to sleep in her crib at night. J is all for the Ferber method: put her in the crib at bedtime, listen to her scream for a few minutes, go in and comfort her, then start again after ten minutes. Eventually she'll learn to put herself to sleep. Supposedly. In actual practice, she screams for hours until I break and tuck her in with us. From a very practical standpoint, if I have to be up at 5 AM to go to work, and she's up at 2 AM screaming, and J's had her fill of the whole business, then I will do whatever is necessary to quiet her down and let us all get some sleep. From an emotional standpoint, I'm a sucker. I freely admit it. I can't stand to hear my daughter cry, and frankly there's nothing like hearing her sigh in her sleep and snuggle up to me just a little closer.
(It doesn't help that she has crib radar. She can be dead asleep in my arms, and the second I get anywhere near the crib she wakes up and starts crying. I sit down in the rocking chair with her, and she's out again. I don't get it.)
J and I butt heads over this every so often. I'll start up to check on her and she'll tell me to sit down and let her cry. I go up anyway, just to make sure she hasn't hurt herself and to assuage my guilt. I feel vindicated every time I find a dirty diaper. I know I've got to assert my authority and be a parent and all that, but I also want her to feel safe. I worry so much about alienation and disconnecting, about the same problems that plague my mother and me. I don't want to make her mistakes, and I don't want to subconsciously repeat the parenting I got.
Dammit I worry too much. If she turns into an eccentric rock n' roll freakazoid like Dorkfysh's kid, I'll be proud. (seriously; she's not afraid to be different and to speak her mind. This is a good thing, in my book.)
