One thing I didn't know before becoming a parent is how widely differing the parenting advice is out there. Not only widely differing--some is actually directly contradictory! I have two books in my possession that have "plans" for getting children to sleep. They are completely opposite theories, and both take opportunities to throw a few punches at the other's method. Both books are written by doctors; both are published by real, reputable publishing houses; both have been recommended to me by various people.

What's a mother to do? Do I go against my gut and try method A, which boasts X number of happy subscribers? Or do I go slightly more with my gut and try method B, which (surprise!) also has a large number of devotees? Or do I really listen to my gut and have a book burning?

The above photo has nothing to do with this post...I just couldn't resist posting it. See, she's happy! That's what really matters, right?

There's nothing to compare to the terror in my heart when I hear Charlotte stirring over the baby monitor after only a half-hour of sleep.

Why doesn't this child like to sleep? I LOVE to sleep! If I was an infant and had permission to sleep 14 hours a day, I'd be all over that...and probably asking for more. In fact, I think there was a time that I slept about that much: last December, when I was deep into the "nausea and vomiting" portion of my pregnancy. This was accompanied by extreme fatigue, compounded by the medication I was taking for the pregnancy. There were days I only got out of bed to crawl to the bathroom.

Now, if we could train Charlotte to do that, I'd be impressed.

This was the time period, you might recall, when Jeff got me a little bell to put next to the bed. I'd ring it if I needed anything from downstairs, since I was too weak to go up and down the stairs that frequently.

I guess the baby monitor is our new version of the summons bell. And it's ringing now, so I'd better go.

I don't know about you, but I think that if I woke up lying in a pool of my own vomit, urine and oh, probably some mucus thrown in there for good measure, and had to suffer through a 1 a.m. bath and wardrobe and bedding change, I'd be a little less smiley and cheerful than Charlotte was this morning.

So, I'm in the running for the worst parent of the year, leading in the category of "Most Likely To Let Her Child 'Cry It Out' Until She Gets Physically Sick." I'd like to thank my agent.

Crying it out sucks.