Hope Corleone

It took 4 days. Four days of, at times, awful crying, of lots of rocking, of singing, of tears (hers and mine). This morning Hope fell asleep after 10 minutes of crying, this afternoon after about 2 or 3 (and her favourite song of course). Tonight it was mere seconds. Yeah, it was worth it. Yeah, I probably fretted about it too much, particularly since this is my second child and I should know better. But you know what I've learned, or at least, remembered? Even if it is your second or third or fourth, it hurts just as much to have to make the tough decisions and you wring your hands about it just as much.

There is one lasting effect from all of this trauma. Hope is hoarse. Her voice? Gonzo. She seriously sounds like Marlon Brando. She has a raspy laugh and an even raspier cry. Poor kid. It's a lasting reminder of what we've been through together the last few days.

I solicited advice because we never did this with Emily. She was a barfer if left to cry on her own. Not worth it, let me tell you. Things are different this time in another way - I have Emily to think of. I can't take the time to gently coax Hope into sleep when Emily is playing downstairs. It would take at least an hour and by then Emily would have the kitchen on fire or at least be making vanilla pizza.

You laugh. She seriously did this one day when she was left in the kitchen for only a few minutes. Vanilla. Pizza. Vanilla all over everything. No actual pizza though. Damn. That could have been good.

Where was I? Right. Hope, sleep, Emily wreaking havoc. Hope is in the unenviable position of being second child. I just can't lay down with her or sleep with her or spend a lot of time coaxing her into sleep (as I did with Emily, admittedly). At this age, she is forced to figure it out. This is especially true now that Emily has decided that she is afraid of airplanes (a bit of a problem when you live right near an airport) and usually wakes up once a night to either tell me that or cry about that. If she doesn't wake up for that reason, she wakes up to go pee (yes, friends... pee! She is diaperless at night! Emily. My Emily. Can you believe it?). Only a month ago she had reverted to pooping in her underwear, something I never divulged on the blog because I was so SICK of talking about Emily's poop and bemoaning the fact that she wouldn't use the damn toilet. I reintroduced Smarties, other rewards, the small potty and voila! here we are. No Pull-Ups, no accidents (I know I'm tempting fate, but damn it, I'm proud!).

Let's move on now, shall we?

We're going to the cottage tomorrow. Third trip this summer which means one thing: this summer rocks!

See you back here in a few days with some photos and the usual, and given the weather in Ottawa, probably some monster vegetables in the back yard.

Oh, and I'm on Facebook now with the 1 trillion other Canadians who are joining in record numbers. Nothing like following the crowd. An upside? I'll never be going to a high school reunion.