About an hour ago, November 2007.

I'm back -- here, that is, and posting about Bridget. Last month I deleted my personal blog because I hated writing in it, and I think that apathy for some reason followed me over here. And that ain't right. Anyway, here is a video of Bridget pretending to wash her hair.

Mike informed me that the last couple of posts made me sound like a know-it-all. A wanna-be-know-it-all, in fact. I informed Mike that he doesn't update the blog anymore (Ba-Zing?)

That said, I felt a little dose of self-deprecation might help to balance the scales. Here it goes:

1. Sometimes I make Bridget get her coat and boots on just so I can go and buy coffee (we have an espresso machine)
2. Bridget's crib is in our room because we can't afford an apartment with two rooms and I can't lay down on our bed without waking her up because our mattress has a plastic cover on it to prevent a bed-bug RE-infestion and the cover makes a horrible crunching sound.
3. In case that last point appeared as a call for sympathy (better yet, charitable donations) I should just say that we are not really poor. Truth is, I have rich parents who give me money which I waste on coffee.

How's that for self-deprecation?

Becoming a mother is not a process or a period. It is not a learning curve, it is not treading water. It is more immediate than you (YOU! Yet to be mothers!) can imagine. And while instantaneously (as I mentioned), upon becoming a mother I had my own ideas of what the future of parenting might hold - it would seem that the philosophy is not my own.

Five months after Bridget was born I came across Jan Hunt, Dr. Sears (among others) and their bellowing bellwether - Attachment Parenting.

Check it out.

It is no secret, Bridget's sleep-habits are less than great. While most evenings she will happily rub her eyes, tug at her belly-button, climb into my arms and fall asleep - staying asleep (not to mention alone in her crib) is quite a different story.

I need advice ( I hate advice!) Some say "let her cry", others say "at least she won't do this when she's two" or "when she's three". Days, rather nights, go by of thinking something has to change. But then, things do change. Only - ever - so - slowly.

And you know what, that is fine with me. I am patient, and my goodness so is Mike. And the truth is she might still ' do this' when she is three. She might still wake up and want to cuddle, want to read a book, want me to sing to her - and that is okay too.

In fact, it is wonderful.

And also, I know she won't 'do that' when she is fourteen. And by then it won't seem like a relief anymore, it will seem sad all over again.

I know, parenting hey? Geesh.