In the country, I sit on our hammock and rock the baby to sleep. He does not know he is being rocked to sleep. He just looks at the leaves and listens to the chain creaking and drifts off.
Not in the city. In the city, we have no hammock. But we do have a step machine. So I lift up little BT, who is not so little anymore, and start stepping. Again, no laying him in my arms or anything, no sir. Just holding him upright, stepping, breaking a sweat if I am lucky, and watching for that head to droop a little, any sign of sleepiness.
For we have a baby that defies sleep cues. In fact, he resents them. We change techniques every couple days because once he catches on that walking around town and singing “Three Blind Mice” means he should sleep … well, he does not like that.
We used to have the vacuum as the catch all, the loud whine that made some of our improvisations work a day or two more. But we broke the vacuum habit out in the country, and we really do not want to get back on that drug.
Anyway, we tried the vacuum yesterday. The baby screamed.
So off to the step machine. Can’t match the hammock for soothing the soul, but better for my waistline.