When the Mister and I were planning for the Little, we took “baby gear” pretty seriously. After reseraching everything we could on car seats, bassinets, strollers, etc., we picked the BEST of the best — our little bundle of joy would get the safest, best products on the market.
I was firm, however, in my belief that we would not, under any circumstances need a swing. No sir, I would not be one of those mothers. You know, the ones who drop their little one into a robotic device to serve as a babysitter — because they simply don’t want to spend the time to hold their child. My refusal of the swing was of course partnered with my adamant stance of NO PACIFIERS. Again, the term itself rubbed me the wrong way. I would not shove a plastic nipple into my child’s mouth to pacify him — simply because I didn’t feel like soothing him myself.
The Mister tried to rationalize with me and explan these devices would not make me a bad parent, but instead keep us sane. I wouldn’t hear of it.
I feed the little and realize it’s been hours since I’ve peed. So I set him in his carrier and put him in the bathroom with me. He’s not happy. He was content being bounced in my arms on the couch. So with my foot. I rock the carrier back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. BACK AND FORTH. All is right in his little world. If only there were a contraption that I could set him in that rocked back and forth!!!
Inserts foot into mouth…
Yea, the PACI is a story for anther day.
What did you say you’d NEVER do that you eventually changed your mind on?