Good Night Baby

Every night plays out the same.  I make dinner in the hopes it will be ready around 7:30 which is dinnertime for Ruckus.  We all eat at the table, like the TV families do, and chat about our day while I feed the baby his rice cereal or oatmeal and a bottle.  We finish eating and put away the leftovers, and then get Ruckus changed into his pajamas.

I blow raspberries on his belly as I get him dressed and he giggles and then I wrap him in a blanket, and sit in the rocker or on the couch and start rocking him to sleep.  Suddenly, even though he's been rubbing his eyes for almost an hour, he cries.  Fights to get free.  He isn't tired at all!  He wants to play!  The crying gets worse.  I am torturing him! 

I sing him a song.  Sometimes it is rock-a-bye-baby, sometimes it is Guns N Rose's Sweet Child of Mine.  Only the first parts of course because I can't remember the rest.  I sing, he cries.  Ten minutes later he is asleep and I breathe a sigh of relief that the crying is finally over, now I can relax and wind down and maybe sleep for a few hours.

Every night has been the same for a long time now, and I wonder every single night what I'm doing wrong, why the crying, the fighting sleep, why does it have to be a battle?  I have tried not singing, telling stories, not talking at all, rocking faster, rocking slow, nothing changes the crying part just before sleep.

And then there was last night.  Dad and I were a little wrung out from bagging up his mother's belongings for donation, and feeling a little down in the dumps.  I sure wasn't in the mood for the crying.  We did the routine.  Ate, got changed, raspberries, snuggles, couch, rocking.  I look down at Ruckus and he giggles.  I look away.  Look down again and he giggles.  Look away, look down, giggles, look away, look down, giggles.  By the time I get bored with this he has fallen asleep and I can't believe it.  The crying didn't happen. 

The. Crying. Didn't. Happen.  I hope that tonight is just as good.