Chirky

Since becoming a parent, I've found that I do a lot of absurd things in the name of Keeping the Peace. At the top of that list is putting Rayah (eight weeks old) to bed each night. She absolutely refuses to fall asleep in her crib before 11pm -- believe me: I've tried, and every time she wakes up within 15 minutes and starts wailing, and that wailing doesn't subside; it becomes a full-blown cry of rage with hiccups and guffaws and disbelief that I would try such a thing -- and so I've gotten into this routine of feeding her and letting her fall asleep on my chest.

If I move within the first 30 minutes, she's wide awake and perturbed, and we have to start the whole routine over again. So I lie absolutely still, propped up with six pillows. I generally entertain myself by reading (turning pages veerrryyyyy quietly) or playing games on my iPhone (volume turned off, of course) or watching TV shows on my laptop (wearing headphones).

At the one hour mark, the poorly choreographed dance begins. I slowly lean forward, my hands positioned behind her head and bottom, my eyes glued to her face for signs of disturbance. I stand up and hold her away from me, her arms spilling downward, my eyes still searching for signs that she's realized she's not on me any longer. Carrying her to her room is like playing that game with the egg in the spoon. You know the children's relay race, where you can't drop the egg, and so you walk very stiffly, carefully holding it, moving as little of your body as possible, all the while chanting: "Don't fall out, don't fall out, don't fall out." Except in my case, I'm thinking: "Don't wake up, don't wake up, don't wake up."

Gingerly, I lay her in the crib. I let her back get used to the mattress while I gently remove my hands from behind her head and her lower half. I back away two steps, still close enough to see whether her eyes pop open. Pause and watch. Take another step back. Pause and listen for movement. Take another step back. Turn off the dimmer switch, which was already set to the lowest setting. Pause and listen for tell-tale grunting. And then I tiptoe back to my room, where I lie in bed and listen for her cry, eventually falling asleep.

It's a little ridiculous, but it works. Most of the time.