Forgiving Myself for Not Finding a Happy Medium
Routines are good for children. This seemed a logical fact when I had my first baby ten years ago. That first baby was not a textbook/easy/sleepy baby, so logic and all of my parenting books told me that what she required was a stricter, more serious routine. Surely that would sort her out. I remember holding her in my arms in her dark nursery, swaying back and forth while counting the number of times I lovingly stroked her back. When I reached 150, it was time to lay her down in her crib and leave the room whether she was ready or not. That was the routine. I was 25 years old, had no idea what I was doing, and I was certain she was judging me harshly through her tear-filled eyes. I clung to my routines for at least six months because I was sure that they were all that was holding us together. At some point I figured out that all of my routines were robbing me of the joys of motherhood, so I went in a differ...