Three weeks ago, we came home from Hawaii. Most of us came home with colds and of course, the baby got it the worst. We were all jet-lagged but as most parents know when you really mess with a baby's sleep schedule sick or not you will have hell to pay. So it was probably our third night home and our little Brixton was up all night again trying to breathe through his nose, we were in our bed (ours meaning mine, Adams, and Brixton's), I was sitting up rocking him when Adam looked over and so lovingly says "you have created a monster". My first and very logical response was until you have anything to do with raising this child, mind your own business. So the next day Adam sends me a text saying he wants a divorce because Brixton is taking away his "quality time". I now feel like like I am raising six children.So I think to myself, maybe Adam is right Brixton will be 11 months old maybe it is time. So I go buy a book so I can get him in his own bed the right way. Adam complains telling me we can't afford the $13 dollar book, but as I leave I look at his 3 snowmobiles, Harley Davidson motorcycle, Rhino, Supra boat and 24" rims on both vehicles I think screw you Adam. So I finish the book and I feel liberated. I know I can do this with a little help from Adam, after all he is the one that was ready to pack his bags if the baby didn't get his own apartment. So I tell Adam my plan and he responds, "I am not ready for him to be out of our bed what if he stops breathing"? The book says that if your still nursing, (I am), to have the father put the baby to bed because otherwise it is like waving two giant ( and I mean GIANT) bottles in front of the baby and saying nope you can't have these now go to sleep. So what does my wonderful husband decide to do? He goes to the gym. What? Maybe I need to pack his bags. So I go through all the books steps , put Brixton in his bed and let him cry. I want to cry. I stay busy, do the laundry, take the garbage out, (why do I have a husband?) and do some more laundry. 20 minutes go by and Brixton is no longer crying. He has fallen asleep sitting up, my heart is broken. All I want to do is pick him up and rock him, tell him I love him and take him back to his real bed. Maybe I need to put Adam in the crib. Adam gets home asks "who put the baby to bed"? I want to flip him off. I say I did. The book says tomorrow will be worse. I am sure Adam will have to go get a pedicure or something. And somehow I am still in love with him. I am for sure going to heaven.
