Hold me closer, tiny sleeper.

Me: No. NO way. I am not doing that.

Husband: But it would make life so much easier if we did. Think of how much we have struggled today.

Me: Listen, I have to hold to what little I have left. I won't do it.

Husband sighs, hangs head and continues packing the car.

Husband: Fine, but what you're asking for is.....

Me: I've said it once and I'll say it again: A mini-van is the death of cool.

We (and when I say "we" I actually mean my husband while I watched and he complained about how much "shit" we had) were packing the car for our ski trip north. And by ski trip I actually mean dining out, watching late night movies and sipping wine by the fire. Oh how I looooove skiing. As usual, our car was cramped and I actually had to choose between bringing my pillow or that extra bag of Doritos. Clearly, the potato chips won. My husband was in full dad mode, grumbling that baby has too many things, that I packed too many clothes, that it's ridiculous for one family to fill a car for just 4 days of travel. Why yes, we had officially turned into my parents. My husband had thrown out the idea that perhaps we should think about getting a mini-van. Hello, what happened to the man who used to make fun of bad mini-van drivers? The one who complained that they were ugly, that they were too big, that the soccer moms who drove them couldn't parallel park? That's right: we were parents now and suddenly priorities such as maintaining some semblance of cool were thrown out the window; Along with watching a full movie without interruption, waking up late on the weekends, and eating without sharing with a nine month old. So now, my once hip husband was suggesting we bite the bullet and get a mini-van. "Besides", he said, "our traveling is going to consist of mostly camping and parks now anyway." Groan....ya, we were those guys now. Goodbye dreams of Fiji. Not that I didn't love the idea of traveling around Canada with my boys. In fact, I look forward to it. I would just rather not do it in a Caravan.
About a week before the packing debacle, my friend's cousin contacted me about the sleep coach. She had, in fact, not used one. Since the sleep coach was going to cost her $4000 and sleep overnight in her house, she thought she could try whatever the sleep coach was going to do instead. Her baby was very similar to the sleepless wonder: up all night and hated taking naps. (She once counted her little one waking up 14 times in one night). She took the suggestion of the coach and slept beside baby on the floor next to the crib. After three exhausting nights, and no progress, she gave up. She had reached her last resort and finally took the suggestion of all the former sleepless moms around her: Ferber.
As she is telling me this, I am silently screaming. No, no, no. Don't tell me Ferber worked. The name itself told me she "cried it out" and I was more than a little apprehensive (and skeptical). "Does she sleep now?" I quietly asked, cringing knowing what her response would be, "Carolyn, it took one night." That's all I needed to hear. I was off to Chapters to read about this Ferber fellow.