This is why in my former life I would decline invitations to hold people's babies. I knew that it would be fine for a little bit, and then the tiny little face would start to contort and turn red and the baby siren would fire up. And no matter what I do, the siren would continue until the kid's parent came to the rescue. I'd hand the kid over with relief and a sense of, "What the hell am I going to do when I have one of my own?"
Problem solved! I married and procreated with The Baby Whisperer.
He's amazing.
Now, I do have to say that it's easier for me with my own kid than it was with other people's kids. The Little Man knows me, so if he's gonna calm down, he's gonna do it faster than other babies did.
But I can't touch what my husband does. He's tried to show me what he does, and I've tried to copy his movements, his tone of voice, everything. Nope, Daddy does it best. I can be up in the middle of the night for an hour trying to comfort the Little Man before my husband relieves me - and the Little Man is sound asleep within 10 minutes. No exaggeration.
If the baby is tired I put him to sleep in my arms and then try to lay him down for a nap. The Little Man will wake up immediately, reaching his arms back up to me. He just doesn't usually sleep very soundly when I'm the one doing the rocking. My husband, on the other hand, will put him to sleep and then he can practically spiral-throw the kid into the bassinet without waking him. OK, that's an exaggeration. But he doesn't need to be nearly so careful as I do when laying the baby down.
It's a blessing, I tell you. A blessing sent from heaven.
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