I think I’ve blocked out a lot of things over the years. Some intentionally, others no so intentionally, as a friend and mother of five so eloquently described, “I lost my mind once, then regained it again.” When my son was an infant, it was not fun trying to get him to fall asleep in his crib situated about three feet from our bed. Did I mention that we lived in a one-bedroom apartment at the time? He’d fall asleep in the infant carrier, so we’d lift him up ever so gently, and he would wake up and scream. We would position him perfectly on his side in the crib with those pediatrician-recommended pads. We’d rub his back, position the binky just so and he would drift off for about 30 seconds. Then he’d start to cry. Then cry some more. Then the wailing would begin. He was addicted to sleeping in his infant carrier. (And addicted to his binky, which is an entirely different story.) Had he kept up the carrier craze, it would have been not so pretty for many reasons. Namely, our pediatrician at the time said he needed to wear a helmet to prevent baby Calvin from having a flat head. Enough was enough. There was no reason for this nonsense. We were intelligent enough human beings. I gave birth after an ungodly amount of hours and my husband didn’t even pass out. Together, we could figure this out. We once tried putting him in bed with us, then carrying him to the crib, which kept him up for another hour or two. After several more nights of this, we tried something another couple had suggested, something I had read about but was afraid to try on my own. We let him cry it out for three nights in a row. Three more nights of agony worked.  I’ve tried blocking out the part where I teach you why it worked. But my brain is a little fried. Bottom line: Baby Cal got it. He slept in his crib and did not need a helmet. Mommy mission accomplished, at least for a couple months until teething began.