Why I Rock

I rock.

Ok, I may or may not be talking about how I get my kids to sleep.  ;)

You know, I'm four kids deep into this game, the one we call "Parenting"... motherhood, if you will.  I have my kids on an awesome sleep schedule.  And by awesome, I mean, I wouldn't have if my MIL hadn't introduced it to me.

In bed by 7:30pm.  Up by, well, whenever they feel like it, which is usually before 7am.  This is ok.  I like having this schedule.  I like knowing there's a specific time I can count down the minutes to every day.  I like knowing I have control over that part of my life.

Since my kids were wee bairns, I've rocked them.  I nursed my first one while rocking.  I fed bottles to the rest while rocking.  They would fall asleep in my arms, too.  I wouldn't lay them down, awake.

*GASP*  What??

I know, right?

Are you feeling sorry for me, yet? "You poor thing - you are teaching your children something horrible, they're never going to be able to sleep for themselves."

I used to actually believe that.

Well, here's the thing - four kids deep, remember? And three out of my four kids - wait for it - PUT THEMSELVES TO SLEEP.

Weird, right? After I so horribly did them the disfavor of doing it for them once-upon-a-time.

So, I've tried the cry-it-out method.  I've tried white noise.  I've tried music.  Nothing beat rocking for me.  I use to judge mothers who did this.  Rocked.  Why? Because of the whole doing them a disfavor thing.

I have been feeling the need to post something about this for a few days, now.  Maybe it's because I feel the need for some self-affirmation.  Whatever the case, here it is:

I rock.

I do it on purpose.  I used to try to get out of it.  I used to hate it.  I even tried to get my husband to do it, instead.

Now? I embrace it.  I choose it.  I even look forward to it.  I love it, even.

I look back and see how many stories have been told, how many songs have been taught and sung together, how many hugs have been stolen and smooches exchanged.  I see how my second to youngest was able to feel my youngest poking at him before he was even born.  I remember conversations of learning and teaching and wouldn't have given those up for anything.

I rock.  I've spent quality time with each child when they were my littlest at the time.  I'm glad, now, with my very last baby, that I can see ever-so-clearly how special this is and has been for me and my kids.

They won't be little forever.  Someday they'll be 12 and slightly smelly and bigger than me and I most likely will not rock, anymore.

So, for now, anyway, I rock.  And I love it.  :)