Murph can't sleep.
More accurately, Murph WON'T sleep.
He fights it with all he is worth (which in my book is quite a lot)
This is NOT something he inherited from my family.
It is 3:45 am and he is bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"Put them in their crib," they say.
"It won't hurt them to cry," they say.
I've decided that "They" are masochists.
Have "They" ever listened to the heart-breaking, increasingly desperate whimpers/hysterical cries of a 5 week old?
Me thinks not.
So I will continue to break every parenting rule there is--I hold him too much, I let him sleep on his tummy, I put him in my bed with me, on my chest even, and at 3:45 am I consider giving him just enough Baby Tylenol to take the edge off.