Jay and his bright ideas....

This cry it out sh*t is for the birds.

Last night Griff was exhausted (presumably from going to the pool with Jesana) and could not stand himself. He started wailing and flailing about 6:30 and we could not get him calmed down. So we proceeded on with bath, book and "cry it out" time. Which lasted For.Hell.And.Ever. Jay kept saying "he's fine" -- then realized that he had pooped. Changed him. Put him back. Crying, crying, crying. Go back in and check. Vomit. E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. Sheets, floor, covers. Change him. Exchange glances. Fine, if you poop and vomit, then Momma can rock you to sleep. New rule.

Tonight was Jay's night out. Don't undo everything I've accomplished, he cautioned, put him to bed and let him cry it out. Mm-hmm. Got it. Like you don't undo what I've accomplished when you churn up everything in the laundry basket? Similar to that? Or more like when you track dirt in across the cleanly mopped floor? Is it more like that?

So we make it through meal time, but Jesana warned me that Allan had thrown up after every meal today. Didn't really act sick, but kept throwing up. Which he promptly did on me after dinner. All down my front. Great. Changed shirts. Gave the boys a bath, read a book, Griff was drifting off, snuggled next to me. Allan was doing his level best to keep his brother awake, but had settled down in to a stupor. Both asleep before 8:30? Cry it out, my foot, I ain't moving.

Which might have worked had Daddy not come home (busted!) and got the boys stirred up. (Talk about undone.) And lectured Momma about crying it out. Maybe he doesn't feel well. He's burped ominously a couple of times, I swear. B.S., cried Daddy, but hold him if you want -- the not-so-sub-subtext being that it will turn him in to an imbecile or ax-murderer.

Fine.

We'll do it your way. Put him down, cry, cry, cry. Cry, cry, cry, cry. Go back in. You're okay. Cry, cry, cry -- cough, sputter. Momma grabs him just in time to be covered down the back in vomit. At least this time it only got me and the floor.

Maybe you were right about the upset stomach, says Dad. You think? Now what? Okay. Now you can hold him. Fine. Unfortunately Griffith is now so concerned about being abandoned that you CAN NOT get him put down. Two hours I tried. Every time I put him down he would wake and cry.

So not only can I now not get my son to sleep the way his father does, I can now no longer get him to sleep in the usual manner, either.

So I put Griff down to let him cry it out. Go out to find my husband on the couch, watching "SuperNanny' and Allan asleep. I kid you not, he says to me, I got MINE to sleep. Grrrrrr........

Fine.

In and out of the nursery every five minutes or so. Trying to comfort Griffith who is howling like a banshee, weeping and sobbing. (So help me, if he figures out to say "momma" it is OVER. )

Jay takes Allan in to put him to bed and hook him up to his feed and Allan (who never does this) wakes and begins to cry. Well, now Dad is between a rock and a hard place -- whatcha gonna do ? Let him cry it out. Perfect. Two banshees howling. One stirring up the other (although, in fairness, Griff was standing, looking over at Allan with concern.) Then Allan's monitor starts alarming. His oxygen levels go 98, 85 (alarm), 92, 72 (alarm), 88, 84(alarm). This goes on for few minutes. (Griffith, no joke, yelling uh-oh every time the alarm goes off. He's worried about his brother and ain't no way he's sleeping through this.) Jay comes in, changes the probe. It ain't the probe -- Allan is either losing his breath from crying or he is holding his breath because he is mad. Or a little from column A and a little from column B. This goes on for 10 minutes or so and Jay says he's going to have to go back on the oxygen -- what else can we do? Umm, pick him up and calm him down ??? (Tongue stuck out in my direction.)

So Allan is now draped over my left shoulder like a fur stole, sound asleep and breathing deeply. Hasn't alarmed since about 2 minutes after I picked him up. Very quiet except for the rattle of snot from the not-quite-crying-it-out. Allan is absolutely excellent at getting what he wants.

Griff is quiet more often than not at the moment, but manages to rally and howl every few minutes. He may finally have worn himself out.

Or maybe he's just trying to figure out how to get one of those monitors for himself.