the wiener mom goes soft

I used to be a hard-ass. I do mean that in more ways than one. My ass, literally used to be hard. I used to work out 5 days a week doing insane things like spinning and step aerobics. That was in the time of only one wiener. Life was so much simpler than. Throw him in the car and go to the gym, every day.

That's not what I'm thinking about today though; I'm thinking about the fact that I have gone soft. I used to be a hard-ass mother. Daddy wiener and I used to believe in "crying it out". I should say I guess that Daddy wiener still does believe in "crying it out" and it's only me that has gone soft. When we had gotten to a point with a wiener baby that we had done everything we could do to soothe them and it didn't work, we'd put him in his crib and walk away. I could do that. I could let babies learn to soothe themselves, find their thumbs, or just basically cry themselves to sleep. I could put in ear plugs and turn on the bathroom fan and just go to sleep.

With each subsequent wiener born unto me that ability has deteriorated until now, I just can't do it. I like to think that it's the fact that little wiener can cry like nobody's business, like he slammed his hand in the car door, but for an hour. He is heart-breaking to listen to. I like to think that any mother couldn't ignore that cry, even though it's just the cry of an over-tired baby and not the cry of someone in dire need of professional medical attention. I know though, that the old me could have done it. I could have weathered on through.

Daddy wiener and I were the poster parents for "cry it out". Friends with new babies came to us and asked, "what do we do?" in that first-time parent end of the world panic. I was the guru levitating on top of the mountain that people made pilgrimages to, except that it was just down the street and a lot of times over the phone. I was so zen, so calm and sure of myself, "babies just have to cry sometimes. Just let him/her cry it out. It will be okay. Ommmmmm."

That used to be me. Now, the sound of baby wiener sobbing and shrieking just grabs me tight around the heart and forces me to pay attention. Even the cries of middle wiener for me to pick up a dropped animal (again) or cover him (again) I can't ignore. Daddy wiener has told me that he will take over, he will be in charge, which means that he will ignore the crying and force me to do the same. I hold on as long as I can before I veto his decision and swoop in to save my babies, no matter how old they are.

Part of me wishes that I could go back to that time, when I just trusted that eventually they'd calm down and take care of themselves. I wanted to raise independent, self-reliant children after all. Mostly though, I can't go back and it's okay. I know things now that I didn't know the first time or even the second. I know now how short this baby time is. How fleeting and precious. I know that those times when I can hold little wiener and soothe his crying just by being me fade so fast. I know that soon enough there will be a time when little wiener doesn't want to be held, just like middle wiener and big wiener before him. I know that the quiet moments without the crying are to be treasured and I need to internalize that feeling of peace because as my house fills with growing wieners the feelings of peace are all to infrequent. I know that my little wiener will turn out just fine if I help him out once in a while. My opportunities to hug and kiss and hold and relish diminish as each of those wieners gets closer to being a man, so I'm gonna take all of them that I can get now.

So, if you see me out and about and I look really walking dead tired know that it's because I was rocking wieners to sleep, retrieving Mickey from the floor and kissing away bad dreams. Know that it was my choice and my fault, I could have just ignored it, but I couldn't. Know that it was my choice, but feel sorry for me anyway.