Throwing Away the Parenting Books

I'd be fine, if it weren't for those curls.

When I was pregnant with Bella, I collected parenting books. I read them like I was cramming for a final, with highlighters and post it notes. I even brought a few in to the labor and delivery room, to study right up until the very last minute.

After nine months of sleep deprivation with Jack, I reached for the comforting words of Dr. Ferber and Dr. Sears again. I read the chapters on sleep over and over again and found the strength I needed to sleep train my baby. And while I was at it, I even leveraged what I read to re-sleep train my toddler in her new big girl bed.

And then I had a third child. A beautiful little princess child with golden curls and a bewitching smile.

I was sure that I had this parenting thing down pat. Thoroughly confident that I knew all I needed to know, I threw out the parenting books. Well, not threw out exactly,just gave them away to parents who needed them more via paperbackswap.

And that's how I'm suddenly breaking all the rules.

Every night this week, I've been putting the older two children to sleep. A relatively easy task as they were so well trained. And then I've been walking into my baby's room, stepping into her new big girl bed, getting under the covers with her, and snuggling into her soft curls until she falls asleep.

I know. I know. I know that I absolutely should not be doing this. I'm creating a monster. A habit that will be brutal to break. But I just can't help myself. Maybe it's because she's the baby. The last one. Maybe it's because I'm lonely. But it's probably just because I'm addicted to those curls.

But I can't stop. Someone, anyone, please shake some sense into me.